It was late at night when I plotted the route. I’d just gotten back from the Cairngorms (my default weekend destination) and had uni the next day. I wanted to escape, escape from studying, from the city, from the stressed-out, urban version of myself. Find peace in the mountains and live day after day walking between beautiful places!
My idea was to walk between my three favourite mountain ranges in the Alps, Monte Bianco, Val Di Mello, and of course, my beloved Adamello-Brenta. Quickly clicking between these places revealed that it would link together some spectacular mountain scenery: the Matterhorn, Monte Rosa, Val Grande, the Orobie Alps. These were all places I’d dreamed of seeing, but never made time for – what better way to see them all then on one long walk! I was reading the excellent “Earth Beneath my Feet” at the time and Andrew’s fantastic writing gave me the inspiration to commit to this plan. I’d been umming and arring about a walk in the summer for some time, but progressively it was shrinking in length as I made other plans. I decided now, this was something I really wanted to do and blocked out the time for it.
And I’m really bloody glad I did. It’s probably been the best thing I’ve ever done. Of course, there were difficult and low moments, times when I really wanted a warm bed and dry clothes, and worst of all, a nasty bug just one week in! I felt worse than I had in years, it was boiling hot, and I was overwhelmed at the scale of the challenge – a cocktail of misfortune! This brought me to the low point of the whole trip, but it was a KEY part of the experience: the process of being miserable and then moving through and not giving up gave me confidence for the rest of the trip!
By the end, I came to realise that these uncomfortable moments highlighted the best moments of the trip: the warmth of the bivuacco or rifugio would never feel as good if you weren’t soaked to the skin from walking in the rain, that first water source after you’d run out would never be as appreciated if you weren’t hot and thirsty.
This mindset was a liberating change from climbing trips, where bad weather means you’re probably just sitting in a soggy campsite. As climbers, we tend to “fight” the weather, trying to force our own plans and principles upon the mountains. Of course, the mountain doesn’t care, and thus, often it ends in disappointment. The mindset of a long-distance hiker is different: you need to move through the heat, rain, hail, and snow. I learned to accept what the mountain gave me, appreciate it, and adapt my plans to the environment. More than ever, I developed a “oneness” with the mountains (hippie-dippie shit maybe?), and it was a wonderful feeling!
I really want to write detailed reports for each section, more for myself so the memory remains strong than for the few folk who read this blog! Nevertheless, I suspect many people won’t be that interested – so this post is a bit of a TLDR! I’ve attached some photos and told the story without too many of my mountain ramblings.
A Photo Journal
The walk started in Courmayeur. I was a mixture of absolutely terrified and overjoyed at the prospect of the journey to come!
The first day, I wandered along the Tour du Mont Blanc. It was busy, but remarkably well graded – you could ride a road bike along much of it!
The first night, I pitched looking at the Gran Jorasse. I was tired after the first day, and still feeling a bit overwhelmed!
In the next couple of days, I passed over countless beautiful passes, eventually reaching CAI Piana, a nice campsite with some really friendly young folk running it. However, psychologically, I was struggling: physically, the days were wearing me out more than I had anticipated, and I still had hundreds and hundreds of miles to go. I’d become too focused on getting the days done and existing on a tight budget: not eating enough food and spending far too much time looking at the watch!
That evening, an unexpeected phone call with Charlie cheered me up a lot. Then, I came across this wonderful post by Chris Townsend. I remembered that I was doing the walk to be in the mountains day after day, not to GET to the Brenta. Emphasis had to be on enjoying each individual day. I learned for me the KEY to long-distance walking: if each day, as much as possible, is a pleasure, the miles will take care of themselves.
The next day, I set off in good spirits and immediately got coffee and a croissant in a bar, followed by buying more food in the supermarket! As I plodded up the valley, I was amazed by the beauty, I was enjoying it again and reached a state of near bliss! Concerningly, the river was entirely dry, so I ended up having to climb 2000m straight out of the valley and over again to find water! Nevertheless I was in a blissful mood. The first psychological barrier of the walk ahd been overcome.
That night, I camped and almost cried for joy! The mountains offer rewards that nothing else can.
The next few days were social, walking with some lovely Italians who lived locally! The miles went easily and eventually I reached Val Tourneche.
Here, I was struck down by a nasty bug. It was desperately hot, I was feeling terrible, and once again felt overwhelmed by the scale of the challenge. This was the low point of the entire trip, and after yielding to an expensive hotel and having two complete rest days, I was concerned about the lost time and feeling the self-doubt once again.
As soon as I started walking again, this heavy doubt was replaced with confidence. The mountains were reminding me to focus on the present.
Reaching Alagna Valessia took 3 days, all along the Tour du Monte Rosa. The views were beautiful, but the crowds and cable-cars diminished the experience a little for me! Nevertheless, I began to find the rhythm, and each day the walking was becoming easier.
In Alagna, I decided to make the first major route change to go to a bivouac that I saw a photo of that looked nice, meaning I’d walk through an entirely different valley and set of mountains! It was rather fantastic!
Then I had to walk through the valley for a few days near roads, but rarely on them. I enjoyed the change from harsh mountain walking. Soon, I reached Val Grande, the last wilderness of the Alps.
I walked up to Alpe-Colma bivouac and planned to wait out a big storm there. The storm never really came, and a forecast told me it was going to hit tomorrow instead! At two o’clock on my rest day, I decided to try and walk the 1.5 hours to the next bivouac so I could get over the pass and down to town the following day.
Of course, the rain hit hard about 40 minutes from the bivouac. This is where I had the first taste of the “long-distance walker insane euphoria”. In the rain, perhaps the heaviest rain I’ve ever experienced, loud thunder, through a dark forest, I was in fits of laughter, singing away. The hikers who I later realised were just a few hundred metres ahead of me would have heard “Tie a Yellow Ribbon” about ten times, “Because he Lives” a fair few, and my own attempt at Lord of the Rings style walking songs too! I’d truly gone insane.
The bothy that night was cosy and warm. I lit a candle and relished the gentle candlelight, listened to an audiobook, and felt utterly at peace. I was beyond happy!
Leaving Val Grande marked the start of the “Inbetween” stretch, a week to ten days along the Great Lakes. I wasn’t looking forward to it, but I was wrong!
The first day involved spectacular ridge walking to reach a summit, Pizzo Ruscada. Here, I stood atop the summit and experienced true mountain euphoria. The whole world stretched beneath my feet: I could see Val Grande, Monte Rosa, Lake Maggiore, and many distant peaks in Switzerland. I screamed and laughed like a delighted madman: a king in my own transient world. In bliss, I sang all the way to camp.
That night in camp, too, was fine, although there was an excess of ticks! A storm raged overnight, and intense thunder woke me; however, the morning brought great rewards and a fantastic view.
Lorcarno was a strange section of the walk. It felt unusual backpacking through such an urban environment. Largely, the walking was on pleasant paths, and I had a fantastic time! There was only 1 short section of road walking which I didn’t enjoy!
Aiming for Lake Como next, I crossed a short range of mountains. A “haunted” wild camp (strange voices, footsteps, and yet nothing outside the tent…) led to the hardest day of walking! On paper, being a mere 10km, I thought it would take 3-4 hours and be pretty restful! Alas, it took 10! The ground was brutally rough, scrambly, and overgrown. There were lots of ascents, and it exhausted me! I reached a small bivouac and conked out!
I was gifted a beautiful inversion the next morning, and I relished the beauty!
I spent two days waiting by Lake Como for the rain! I was bought a pizza by Marcus, a fantastically kind German! I’d tried to get into the mountains on the second day, but the access to the valley was entirely blocked by landslides!
After some serious re-routing, I walked towards a small bivouac! It was busy: one of the things I learned about Italian outdoor culture is that generally, people go to the mountains in BIG groups! You rarely see a group of 10-15 folk in the UK who aren’t on some sort of organised event, but it’s commonplace in Italy!
Here, I enjoyed a spectacular sunset, relishing the final views of Monte Rosa!
Next, I went over towards Rifugio Omio and Val di Mello. The pass I went over was enjoyably technical, but already a bit of snow was hanging about on the shady Northern side. With lots more rain due in the next couple of days, I yielded to a low route to reach Sondrio.
By now, I’d learned that low routes don’t mean bad routes. I ended up on a “wine trail” that took me through beautiful villages, offering wonderful walking experiences. It felt like a fantastic “holiday” for a few days: good food, easy miles, and a couple of nights in beds.
From Sondrio I entered the Orobie. As I walked towards Lago Venina, I had a conversation with a kind man, Achillie. Later, he drove up and brought me some pears. He was one of the nicest people I met on the entire walk!
The camp was wonderful, but cold. I felt very relaxed.
The next couple of days in the Orobie were sociable (once I joined one of the main hiking trails on the southern side of the range), but the ground was tough, and the weather was awful. Now, rifugios costing only €15, I opted to spend nights inside rather than in my tent in the storms.
The Orobie was some of the roughest and most difficult walking. The path was constantly exposed, so any slip would be serious, and the amount of climbing was frankly ridiculous. Nevertheless, upon reaching Rifugio Curo, I was completely enamoured with the challenge of the walking: it felt like a proper adventure, especially in the poor autumn weather.
I headed back North over the main ridge of the Orobie to reach Aprica, where a semi-rest day followed, walking 15km or so down the valley to Edolo.
From Edolo, I reached Rifugio Gnutti. A wonderful sociable night here followed, talking to two German lads, a mountain guide, and getting some free cake from one of the nicest Rifugio managers I’ve ever met! Somehow, he remembered me from last year even though I’d just looked around without buying anything!
Following the route of my Adamello Circuit, I reached Val di Fumo over a couple of days, with a bit more free cake along the way! The weather was truly awful, and my lightweight waterproofs were struggling to fend off the driving, driving rain.
Reaching Rifugio Care Alto was remarkably pleasant! Beautiful autumn colours and the sun made the walking feel easy!
I stayed in Rifugio Care Alto, making a trip up to the glacier and the old WW1 cannon too! The sunrise was beautiful.
I followed the Sentiero Pace to Pinzolo and then Camping FAE. A final excursion into the Dolomiti di Brenta would end my trip. I walked up through Val Brenta to Rifugio Brentei and camped beneath the mighty Crozzion di Brenta. It rained, but I didn’t mind. It felt fitting that such an epic adventure should end with some discomfort.
I woke to rain again the next day, feeling sad to be leaving the mountains. As I walked from Brentei, the Mountain gifted me one last reward for my struggle.
I reached Campiglio, got a pizza, and that was the end of it! It felt surreal to finally put down the backpack and realise that I wouldn’t be walking through the Brenta and onto the next mountain range. I was not glad to be finishing: I’d fallen completely in love with the simplicity of this lifestyle. For 41 days, my world had been reduced to the contents of a backpack; I’d spent nearly every minute outside. I’d seen so many views, seen so much wildlife, and felt so connected to the seasons and fallen hard for long-distance backpacking.
Oscar Outdoors 