The King: the first time up the Monviso Coolidge Couloir, by Ivo Ferrari

I’m alone, laden with only what is necessary: I’ve never been a fan of heavy rucksacks. The snow beneath my feet is warmed by the sun, soaked like my baselayer. The red box bivy is today's destination, the desired objective. Two French alpinists are lying comfortably in the only comfortable camp beds ... the French don’t speak my language.

How nice it is to go to bed with the chickens: plenty of dark hours to think and dream. How nice it is to depart in the middle of the night, when the heat gives way to cooler temperatures and nothing moves, except for the bright stars up in the sky. A "classic" gully that some even ski down, a long and linear slope, a work of art in the middle of a mountain that makes my delighted heart skip a beat.

The crampons bite aggressively into the hard snow: only my breath and the psychedelic effect of the artificial LED light of my new head torch point the way upwards. The French ascend and I play the game of overtaking them and of being overtaken… they have pegs and rope and I… my new head torch!

At certain points I stop to fill my lungs and my mind wanders, imagining the "extreme skiers" jumping down ... I cringe, but maybe simply because I admire those (the skiers) who can, while I don’t know how to.

The years go by pass as does the time needed to climb this couloir, but its beauty remains the same, changes quietly with the seasons.

The sun reaches me when I’m up high, out of danger (maybe) and, with bursting lungs I find myself completely "spent" clinging to the wonderful summit cross. All that remains is to have to look around, all I can do is remember that beautiful night. But the descent from Monte Viso is long, almost “never-ending", the heat, the soft snow, the ruck sack filled with hard work... I reach the car and drops of sweat turn into steam!

"I’d like to give it a go" .. but now I need to rest until the next weekend!

by Ivo Ferrari

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