Italy - Day 5: Rifugio Cinque Torri to Rifugio Citta di Fuime

Organisation

There are many benefits of being organised when you hike. We, however, do not suffer from any of them.

This is why we never set off early. A habit that one day we are going to regret.

Hmmmmm

The weather looked promising so we had breakfast and set off at a leisurely pace. In truth we only have two paces. Both slow.

We were on the edge of something, having moved from one cluster of 'mites' to another. I am sure they all must have names, but don't ask me. But the thing were further away and a bit different.

Today the famed Passo di Giau. Well famed if you like cycling. When we got there, the road was full of cyclists, motorbikes and vintage cars: all quite entertaining. We chatted to some Czech and Slovak cyclists who were resting at the top after the long ascent. They bragged and boasted of the about the ascent.  But we knew the truth and were still impressed.

Study of contrasts

The weather was looking more dramatic.

The mountains were looking more phallic.

After the pass, the path traversed us across a , hopefully, death defying mountain side. We have noticed, after years of careful study, that if there is a rock making the path difficult to navigate, or a particularly narrow section, or even a bit washed away; these stumbling blocks are always directly above a drop that would definitely kill you. Happens to often to be a coincidence. Not blaming anyone - just saying: god

Into the jaws of the lion...

You can see one such place in front of us in this photo. Luckily we survived but someone definitely haters hikers.

The clouds were coming and going. But mainly coming. Or more optimistically, the thunder, and probably lightning, were still a long way off. Fighting.

The sun was shining but with an air of someone who knows something that you don't and is waiting for the penny to drop.

We suspected it might rain - but in the mountains you never know where or when: so we didn't hurry. The fight, however, was getting closer.

Like the dog (only visible in photo taken on an old camera) in a Steven King book (The Sun Dog) that got closer every time a photo was taken. The theory was the dog was unstoppable and would eventually get out and kill the photographer.

But we weren't worried. Just taking photos, and, in everyone that dog was getting closer. Its teeth bigger. Its snarl louder.

Yea though I walk through the valley of death...

At least we were on the ground. We past cliffs and could hear the climbers high above. The eagle eyed (read young) among us eventually spotting the groups of climbers, (somewhere over the rainbow) way up high. If the thunder worried us: they must have been wishing they had brought clean underwear.

Look closely

Somewhere high on this cliff, in the picture to the right, there are two climbers. With a bit of luck, extreme magnification and a knowledge of roughly where they were you can find them. But they were high, very high and going up.

The thunder and now, visible, lightning were getting closer. I am not sure what people stuck on the side of a cliff do in a thunder storm. Other than pray that is.

We were happy to be at ground level, even though ground level was still quite high. You don't have to be able to run faster than the lion - they were higher.

The grass was filled with little white flowers. Everywhere. Eventually, we looked and much to our surprise and delight they were edelweisses / it was edelweiss. From The Sound of Music fame.

Edelweiss

The meadow was full of edelweiss. We have only seen it growing wild in a couple of places. And people have died trying to take pictures of it.

But here it was hard not to walk, sit or to be honest pee on it. It was everywhere. Its not the prettiest of flowers and I had thought it was really rare. But only the former appears to be true. A stubby little grey and white hairy flower with no real shape or form.

But we saw it. Photo'd it and mentioned to a few passers-by who had been as ignorant of it as we had been minutes earlier.

We passed a group of four at a non-descript col and headed down. Our climbing mainly done for the day. At the bottom of the steep bit we stopped for lunch at a convenient rock. Some of the party argued against this stop, as the dog was getting angrier and closer.



Then three things happened all at once:

1) we took our first bites, t
2) he group of 4 past us, and
3) the heavens opened.

In seconds we were all wet through. Waterproofs once on - were too little and too late. The herd of cows just below us ran for their shelter. We thought about joining them, but weren't sure if they would be happy with that.

So we swam on.

Into the storm

The path was now an angle deep stream. The group of 4 had taken shelter under a big rock outcrop. My three ran to join them. I was struggling with waterproof trousers - an old man. A waste of time anyway.

But this delay allowed me to see the bolt of lightning shoot across the valley and luckily stop short of the rock outcrop.

When I got there I pointed out that:

a) they were wet and the rock wasn't doing mush good and
b) it, the rock, was the highest thing around and would attract the lightning that would kill them soon.

We moved, or swam, or waded, take your pick. We were as they say: wet.

We swam for 30 minutes through rain and mud, then another 15 minutes in just mud. We got to the rifugio, four drown rats. We stripped off and hung everything where-ever we could find hanging space.

No bikes today

There were bikes - but they had been abandoned to the rain, we guess as the owners ran for the rifugio.

But we had dinner with two nice English ladies. Everyone swapping tales of the soaking we had all just had or for the lucky few, just missed. Doesn't something bad bring out the best in people.

Apparently today was the day when being disorganised caught up on us.

Note to self: more organisation needed.