Adamello Circuit

As the Italians would put it – this was a journey full of emotion. The Adamello range is stunning in wild in a way that I have never encountered before. Each day I met fewer people than you would in the midst of the Cairngorm Plateau, all whilst walking beneath glaciers, swimming in high alpine lakes, and crossing passes at near 3000m. This is a journey I implore you to undertake – it starts on the Alta Via Delle Adamello, then loops around towards Care Alto through surely the wildest part of the range, but I think it would be hard to have a disappointing journey here, regardless of the exact route you choose.

Some logistical stuff first. There are no re supplies and the terrain is not straightforward, with exposed sections of scrambling and passes that will remain snow covered well into the hiking season – potentially not the best route if your of uncertain footing and not happy on exposed ground (it’s never that bad – I think the hardest steps are probably UK grade 2/3).

You can either stay at the rifugios or (illegally) camp. No one seemed to mind me camping, but it was just me and it was quite obvious that I wasn’t really going to leave much of a trace or make lots of noise. I always camped near the Rifugios as a bear precaution, and one night in a particularly bear prone area I stored my food away from me, but I don’t think that was a necessary precaution – these bears are shy and have little interest in people.

The weather is the biggest issue with this route. I fell into a “two pass a day” rhythm, which meant I was crossing one high pass mid afternoon. I was lucky with the weather, but afternoon thunderstorms are frequent here and would make it unwise to walk late. If this is the weather you get, I’d advise early starts and early finishes….

Now, on to the journey.

Day 1 – Passo Tonale to Temu 

I’d been climbing for two weeks and scarcely had a rest day. I however am not one to sit still, and decided to walk rather than bus from Passo Tonale to Temu.

Honestly – the photos will speak for themselves. The views were good, but it was just walking on paths and trails near the road. I could always hear the road noise. I was also appalled at the condition of Passo Tonale. Skiing is an industry that heartlessly ravishes the countryside – I think it’s appalling and disgusting and frankly unjustifiable. It reeks of immense disrespect for the mountains, and for me there is nothing worse. Those who partake in this defiance of nature on a regular basis have no grounds to call themselves mountain folk or nature lovers – descents should be earned by swear and toil, and contributing to this industry should take a good long hard look at themselves…

Rant over.  After a somewhat disappointing lunch stop (the super market had run out of Focaccia!!!!!) I made it to Camping Presanella. A wonderful – if expensive – campsite where I spent a delightful afternoon resting and reading.

Day 2 – Temu to Garibaldi

The day, whilst only 15km or so in distance had an intimidating elevation profile with such a heavy bag (my baseweight was only 7kg or so, but the weight of six days of food was crushing). I began early and took an old man plod up the road towards Lago d’Avio – relishing the excellent views and steady but consistent gradient. The first thousand metres of climbing flew by and I found a lovely spot to have lunch and dry my tent.

Sadly, mid tea, I heard the ominous sound of thunder and thought it wise to get moving. As the thunder grew ever closer, I started to push myself to move up the hill faster and faster, eventually practically running up it as it started raining. Alas, I was too slow. 

I see the air ionise to plasma just fifteen metres in front of me, followed by a crushing and brutal thunder clap that made me shiver in fear. Some scorched fragment of the structure the lighting struck fell from the sky. Never in all my life had thunder struck so close. More bolts surrounded me, this was a bad place to be and the only thing to do was run. The rifugio was just five minutes away at this point, I sprinted up the hill as fast as my legs would carry me, ignoring the burning pain in my legs and lungs. I was scared: thunder and lightning are a serious hazard and should not be underestimated.

I reached the safety of the Rifugio, panting. That was an exciting end to the day! A quick Fanta and the rain began to die down after an hour or so. I went outside and found a secluded and beautiful spot to set up my tent.

One ominous note, I was camped on the remains of a World War One barracks, and as I went to collect water just before bed, I saw something rather spooky. Bones. Lots and lots and lots of bones. They were large bones, of beings about human or deer sized, but there was nothing identifiable about them. At the time, my mind jumped to this being some sort of burial ground or hospital in the war, but later I realised it was more likely that it was a kitchen, and the bones discarded belonged to dear and game – but I’ll never know for sure. Maybe the fact that I made it through the night without being attacked by an army of ghosts confirms the latter hypothesis.

Day 3 – Garibaldi to Gnutti

After a good nights rest, I awoke to jaw dropping views. A cup of tea and bowl of porridge later, I was on the move. A quick descent was followed by an arduous climb, which I made short work of by deploying my signature old man plod. The top of the pass had a short equipped section, but it is nowhere near difficult enough to require any kit for all but the most nervous hikers.

In this valley, I descended to a stunning lake, where I went for a freezing cold dip. As per usual, I spent several minutes talking myself into it, then the second I submerged myself I shrieked wildly (any bears listening – I do apologise) and ran back to the safety of my towel. An excellent swim!

I had some tea (mid day tea will be a staple of my backpacking hear on out) and my rather depressing and boring lunch (they don’t do wraps in Italy…makes life harder to have nice lightweight lunches). I even got a wee nap in before continuing the easy walk to Gnutti.

The lake here called for another swim (the same self hype shriek regime was repeated here), and then I set up my tent and prepared dinner. Just as I was reading my book, a large group of Italian youths decided to set up camp rather near to me – bloody young people 😉 ! Initally I was rather frustrated that the peace and quiet of my wild camp would get disturbed, but they were quiet enough and seemed to be having a lovely time! I slept excellently that night.

Day 4: Garibaldi to Adame

The first climb toward Rifugio Prudenzini felt like hard work – I was feeling a bit tired. I slowly plodded up for about half an hour when I came across something rather exciting. 

There was a large footprint in the park – as if it were from a very very large dog. Surely, this had to be the footprint of a Bear. I’ve been coming to these mountains for twenty years, and I’ve never before seen so much as a trace of the beats. How exciting!

I realised it was fairly recent, and it was possible the bear was still close by. To alert it of my presence, I began singing the old classic “Tie a Yellow Ribbon”. Those of you who know me are well aware that, at the best of times, my singing is more of a series of lyricised groans, and I can’t say the steep incline made it any better.

The poor goats walking heard something like:

“I’m coming ho” *wheeze *

“I’ve done” *stops for breath*

“My time” *takes a tactical view stop*

Even the goats were looking distastefully at this point. I suspect they were rather confused and frustrated that this strange man was coming and shrieking like some sort of deranged lunatic on their land, but their stares also carried some sympathy, perhaps they deemed that I was having some sort of breakdown and felt sorry for me. Alas, my hypothetical beard was not yet long enough to allow for good goat based communication methods – this feat requires a few more days of backcountry travel.

The descent to Prudenzini was absolutely knee breaking. I’d reverted to singing my version of “Because he lives” (he being Dave Macleod). The goats just started avoiding me at this point….

I had a short lunch break at the Rifugio, and faced the next brutal climb, nearly as large as the first and now in the desperate heat of the day. Luckily, the old man plod never fails, and carried me to just below the crest. 

As I was about to go over the crest, for the first time this season, I realised something was going to happen. Something…exciting. Beshitment! What is a trip to the Alps without a good beshitment! I found an excellent natural toilet and had an outstanding nature poo with stunning views all around me. Some folk try to avoid nature shits, but that is the sole reason I go out backpacking and climbing – searching for the ultimate Nivarna shit (a thousand metre drop straight through a granitic crack into a bergschrund below???!!). Alas, this shit only brought partial Nivarna, but nonetheless, a joyous and noteworthy crap (7/10).

A long and knee shattering descent brought me to Valle Adame, where I camped. Here I also realised some replanning was required. I’d found the day quite tough, and it was a relatively short day (only 1200m and 15km), but the terrain was brutal, more akin to the approaches to climbs then a long distance path. The next day was due to go over rougher terrain for much longer over much more ascent, and with the possibility of snow that I was not at all equipped for. I’d need to rethink. I opted to extend the trip by one day, and reroute via a much longer but lower altitude (just marginally) path and this provided to be an excellent choice. 

Day 5 – Adame to Val Di Fumo 

I slept well but I felt knackered when I woke up and decided to have a slightly slower morning. I went for a very speedy dip in the river had had TWO cups of tea (an excellent Earl Grey and a cup of mountain flower tea). An excellent start to the day. I put on an audiobook and began the beautiful plod out of the valley, passing through various hordes of animals as I went (horses, then pigs, then…other hikers 🤢). It was the weekend, and this was a pretty valley, what else did I expect… 

Luckily, I was soon returning to the esoteric, and turned off and ended up on a neglected and rather difficult equpped section. It seemed to be set up entirely illogically, with the cables stopping just as the difficulties began and the difficulties were not insignificant. After several passages of interest, I began the long plod up the hill, sadly in the scorching and brutal heat. The audiobook kept it fun, and I was having a really enjoyable morning.

Soon, I joined an excellent ridge, which provided invigorating exposure and spectacular walking. Along the ridge, old World War One battlements were everywhere – a crushing reminder that these mountains were once a battlefield. Passes were key strategic positions to hold, and were the scenes of much combat. War truly is dreadful and daft, and I can’t even imagine the conditions those poor men had to endure.

I descend in silence, in shock and awe of the conditions those men endured…

My tummy however decides that now is not the moment for silent appreciation. It’s hungry! I spot a lake – what an excellent spot that looks to be! I happily jog down the hill, the prospect of a swim on my mind. What I did not realise is that the path did not meet the lake, and soon, it was about two hundred metres above me (don’t judge me – I was engrossed in audiobooks). Did I walk back up for a swim? Fuck no. I Made do with a stream, where this irritating black bea/wasp thing kept trying to sting me and I shouted wild threats.

“Try that once more and I’ll squash you you little fucker”

The creature was undeterred. It had called my bluff and sensed my pacifism. My lunch was cut short, the thing had won. A great failure.

What was also disappointing was Val di Fumo. Don’t get me wrong – it’s absolutely beautiful – PAINFULLY so, but, tragically, it’s terribly busy, and at this point, I had become more adept at communicating with goats than people (goats gossip terribly!). I was taken aback by the crowds, and the lack of friendliness from the day trippers. They’d rarely acknowledge you or say hello, poor form. There was litter (not enough to be obvious, but when you look closely, it was everywhere), and just general disrespect for the environment. I was frankly appalled and rather frustrated. If my beard was not mearly hypothetical, I’d have given some old mountain man rants to the tourists damaging the wild places, but as a very smelly and dirty twenty year old I don’t quite have the authority needed to bollock an old Italian man for leaving a cigarette but. Give it a few more days…then I’ll start being able to speak bear.

The camp was, however, beautiful. The views up to Care Alto were stunning and the views down the valley were also brilliant. This was the only night I opted to take a bear precaution and store my food away from the tent – there were a few signs warning of bears in the area and it seemed like exactly the place they’d like.

Day 6 – Val di Fumo to Care Alto

This was a big day. From my camp, I had to climb one thousand metres straight up – a brutal affair early in the morning. I certainly struggled, I was running a little low on food at this point (well, not low as such, but the lower-than-ideal calorie diet that this trip necessitated for weight-saving reasons was seriously catching up to me), and despite my hypoglycemia, I had to push through the hunger until I was well established on the climb.

Despite the pain, the climb was beautiful, and upon having my mornings allocation of MnMs, I was a new man, and found the second half much easier. The pass was beautiful – it nearly moved me to tears. Two of the most stunning and wild valleys conceivable on either side. Above Val di Fumo is the ‘Riserva Integrale’ – which essentially means it’s the most protected area of the national park, and god it shows. There was no one else, and few signs of people (except for the ruins of buildings from the war). As I sat, utterly mind blown by the views, I saw a wee marmot just below me. What a sight, and what a treat.

Ahead of me there was a long and rather faffy descent. The ground on this trip was rough, and care is often required. In my sights below, a stunning lake. Small, but strikingly blue, I knew this would make an ideal lunch spot.

I reached the lake, and jumped straight in. Despite the bracing cold, I’d become more adpet at ‘getting on with it’ and enjoyed my brief tip immensely. I treated myself to my final rice packet for lunch (rice packets and tuna were now the highlight of my day). That night, I was to stay at a Rifugio and for the first time in many days, eat a proper meal. How exciting.

After lunch, another 800m climb awaited me (joyus!). The slog was hot and sweaty, past the Cassina Dosson – a sort of Italian both. There was a man here with a very barky dog, so I did not hang around, and instead opted to move on to a secluded spot up the valley, with a little river where I went for another swim. I looked at the South Face of Care Alto in awe.

By a very long way, these two valleys were the most beautiful I’ve ever had the pleasure of walking through. To all intents and purposes, truly wild, deserted, glacial bowls which are full of beautiful alpine flora and fauna – no mountain lover could fail to be moved. I sat and stared for a good while around me – I felt so lucky to be able to go to places like this, and just pondered my life in an absolutely amazing setting.

The final bimble to Care Alto had a bit more uphill (300m or so), then a long soggy walk across. At this point, my socks (cheap alpkit ones) were struggling. They’d become very abrasive and uncomfortable for my feet, and as I trotted along a waterlogged path it became really grim. I was glad to reach the rifugio, despite the concerned looks from the all too clean Germans that were enjoying the mountains in a more luxury fashion.

For dinner you ask? Ribs, Gnochi with Ragu, and Strudel. Quite good

Day 7: Care Alto to Carisolo

Last year, some Swiss gave Lara and I a bollocking about making noise in a rifugio in the morning. Although it annoyed me at the time, they were actually really polite about it and gave some useful advice about how to be quiet. I wish the Germans in the rifugio with me met these swiss. The racket they made when they woke up was very poor hut etiquette indeed, and once again, had my real beard been as long as my hypothetical one, I’d have gone full angry old mountain man on them.

In my head, it went something like this:

“Scoundrels! Fools! How dare you make so much noise in the hut? I’ve never had such disturbed sleep since those bivies with Jefferson. I’ll write to London about you if I ever here such a racket again, and the gentlemen, well they’ll take good care of you. Edmund is not a man that likes disturbed sleep before interesting moves, and Franz’s birds will be right on you too!”

(Those of you who climb with me regularly will be familiar with all these characters, and their associated accents. Those of you who don’t…consider yourselves lucky. And coil your ropes carefully. Franz is always watching).

The day really started with the usual slightly underwhelming breakfast in huts (a sort of shitty buffet that is better suited to a day exploring Milan than proper mountain walking). As per, I was to descend eight hundred meters down one side of a valley, then immediately climb up it. The climb was not fun, but the stunning views and some good music made it pass trouble-free. I was essentially out of food at this point and was bonking hard. After I reached Passo Altar, I had a brief swim then put the head down to get to a supermarket, just 15km away from where I stood. I raced down the hill, softly singing to alert the bears (I was back in prime bear land) until I reached Val di Genova, and hordes of old people walking terribly slowly. I felt very out of place, and quickly found a quieter path to bomb it all the way down to Carisolo where I had some crisps and a fanta.

What a journey. Surely one of the most beautiful treks in Europe, if not the world? A beautiful journey, and an excellent week.