A day out on the Sella Group

We rose early on Saturday 5th of July, stiff from the drive but eager to get our first day's mountaineering underway. Wanting to get a feel for via ferrata-ing without sticking our necks out too far, we had chosen to start with the Vallon via ferrata on the side of the Sella Group. We packed our bags (more on this later) parked up near the cable car in Corvara (again, more on this later) and took the double lift up to a huge cwm. From here a walk, scramble up scree and plod across snow brought us up to the base of the route.

Approaching the Vallon VF which meets the skyline by the waterfall

The via ferrata itself was fun but rather short lived, although some interest was provided by the sections where we had to dig the cable out from the heaps of snow, and higher up where a rickety bridge suspended right in front of a waterfall had to be crossed, subjecting the adventurer to a facefall of fresh spray!

Will getting a faceful!

Our first taste of via ferrata

Before long we topped out and despite sunglasses, found ourselves blinking in the bright sunlight reflecting off gleaming snowfields that still covered much of the upper plateau of the Sella Group.

From up here we realised that the summit of Piz Boe was neither that far away nor that far above us, and that a fairly easy snow plod would see us to the summit. I had in fact visited this summit before on my previous trip so not wanting to cut short the day and undeterred by the unexpected quantities of snow, we decided to 'give it a go'.

Adam and Will plodding towards the Piz Boe summit, which can be identified by the huge square lightning conductor

An easy snow ridge crossing to gain higher ground

Some careful scrambling and a snow ridge crossing soon brought us to the summit where I happily tucked into some strudel at the summit hut (not a phenomenon restricted to Wales!) However our eagerness to get to the summit meant we had neglected to give any thought to our condition or the way back down. By now we were getting badly sunburnt and dehydrated, and the effects of altitude at over 3000m were beginning to tell. We decided it was time to plow on and began our descent down the other side of the summit pyramid.

The going was initially easy but soon easy scrambling gave way to more snowfields, at a steep enough angle to make crossing them precarious. It's here that I began to regret my decision to save weight by wearing hiking instead of mountain boots. Eventually these flattened out and we began to look for the way off the plateau, conscious that the last scheduled time for a return lift was fast approaching.

Our maps pointed to a couple of scree gullies with paths down and we headed for the nearest one. The gullies were still full of old snow left over from the heavy winter. However there was no other obvious way down without a massive detour so we resigned ourselves and went down, ice axes out. Adam went first kicking steps down for a couple of hundred meters until he reached safer ground.

It was only here that I understood the scale of my folly in not taking crampons and mountain boots. Desperately clinging to my axe, I tried kicking it only to find my less rigid boot ricocheting off the snow. I appealed to Will who graciously agreed to rope me down. Even with the protection I was terrified, facing into the slope and kicking my boot in 5 or 6 times with each step.

Time passed at an agonisingly slow pace. Each time I stopped to look, the safety of the scree seemed no closer than before. Each kick into the snow had me teetering nearly off balance. Each step left me in exactly the same danger as the previous one. The rope came tight and now Will had to follow, matching me for pace to try and keep the tension in the rope even. A slip now could drag us both down. I gripped the head of my axe in a claw-like vice. The heat in the gully was overwhelming and while my mouth went dry, the sweat poured down the inside of my glasses and into my eyes, leaving me half blind.

At long last I stepped off snow and onto rock and was able to unrope and Will swiftly followed. We quickly packed gear up and re-hydrated before breaking into an 'Alpine jog' around the base of the cliffs back to the cable car. With 10 minutes left the station was in sight and 5 minutes later we were lining up to catch a lift, out of breath but very much relieved.

Enjoying the ride back down

On the lift I took a few snaps and internally debriefed. The lessons to take away are almost too obvious to bother typing out. Stick to the plan. Don't stick your neck out straight away. If you're going mountaineering, wear mountain boots. If there may be snow, take crampons. Duh.

We stepped off the lift only to find one final obstacle between us and a much needed shower, pizza and beer. We had earlier parked up outside a bar. Now our exit was blocked by a Hummer and as we arrived at the car, the very animated (I wonder how often that word has been used to describe Italians) bar-owner came out and started threatening to call the Carabinieri. Unsure about the veracity of his threats, we apologised and promised to bugger the hell off. This seemed to steal the wind from his sails and he moved the vehicle to let us out.

By comparison, we took the rest of the week pretty easy...