“Trial and error is a fundamental method of problem solving.” Quite so. It’s an easy way to get yourself into trouble, too… especially while trad climbing. – “Route finding skills are essential.” Granted, but going wrong occasionally pays off. I guess our latest vertical excursion can be read as testament to semmingly antithetical propositions.
It’s a queer feeling to arrive at the top of a climb whithout knowing which route you’ve just ascended. Evidently, something went awry at some point. But where?
On today’s menu: “Via dello Spigolo“, a classic trad route up the south face of Timpa della Falconara. 6 pitches of moderate difficulty (mostly IV and V, with the crux touching V+, i.e. max. 5.8 YDS), but rather complex and equipped with only a smattering of iffy pitons. In other words, the kind of romping ground where route finding skills come handy. So much for theory! And here’s how it actually went…
After the usual amount of teething troubles I got into my stride. The first pitch turned out to be a benign one and well protectable. I managed to break a handhold, though.
At the belay point we swapped lead. Here my recollections become a bit sketchy, but I assume our climbing partner – we were a party of three – must have prolonged a traverse. As a matter of fact, leading with two 60 meter half-ropes on a relatively short pitch, he was about to run out of rope! – “That’s impossible! Haven’t found anything?!” – When his answer came it was muffled and negative.
After several abortive attempts at finding the two pitons of the route’s second belay point he had decided to build his own. At that point the course must have been set already. We debated our options and, having scrapped various inconclusive theories, finally agreed to continue. The fact that we soon found a belay point consisting of two rusty pitons only contributed to the general confusion. For instance, we should have come across a dihedral. The dark and somewhat intimidating looking cleft we were facing now didn’t really match the route description.
“To me it looks more like a chimney.” ………….. Yes, exactly!
I can’t tell what lured us in, or why on earth we persisted. …………..
Was it the ‘suspension of disbelief’? ………….. “Maybe there is some lateral exit that we cannot see from this angle.” …………..
Or a mild kind of group hallucination?
“Why don’t we have a look?” ………….. We might never know.
Anyways, it was my turn again, and if there had been still an unknown in the equation, it did’t take me long to realize that this was definitely NOT the intended route and, oh dear!, probably MORE than we had bargained for. This was a very steep and cramped chimney indeed, and NOT a dihedral! Climbing it required a complex sequence of very different moves.
I came across a very badly placed piton (pointing downwards!) and, a moment later, a good one! A few blows of the hammer confirmed the first impression. I clipped the ropes and took a deep breath. “Guys! I’m have no idea what grade this is, but I shall be damned if it’s a IV! This can’t be our route.”
There was no turning back, and the difficulties only seemed to increase. I managed to place another piton, clipped a couple of cams, a wire and, to my great surprise, a rusty steel bolt! After roughly 40 meters of fairly sustained climbing I needed to rest! Almost there! I could see that I was about to exit the chimney. One final effort, of all things, a mantle! Aargh! Finally I could roll over and repose.
“By Jove! What is this place?!” I found myself stretched on a huge roofed ledge. It was rather comfortable. And, what’s more, there were also two shiny steel bolts! Yes! – We spent quite some time in this natural alcove, discussing the chimney and how to proceed from here. The ledge had been in the shadow. Now the sun was coming around the corner. We had to find a way past this massive roof in order to get to the summit ridge. I still felt slightly exhausted. Thankfully, Matteo volunteered for leading the next pitch.
He tried a few meters to the left… “No way!” … and to the right. After an initial traverse he managed to locate a weak spot in the overhanging roof. A few more meters and he disappeared from our view. The rope kept moving slow and steady, meaning that he was making good progress. And then, suddenly, nothing. Silence.
Minutes later we heard him shout: “The ridge! I’m on the summit ridge!” – What?! We could hardly believe our ears. – “Is this you trying to be funny?” But no, he wasn’t kidding us. We had actually hit the summit ridge and, hence, completed the route. Which route? Well, some route.
How does one feel in such a moment? Certainly relieved. Satisfied, in a fashion. But mostly dumbfounded, pranked and completely at a loss. What a weird place that ledge! And then the last two pitches! Wow! The whole thing seemed unreal. No doubt, it had been a challenging climb, although never too hard and always within the realm of our capabilities. Lucky us!
Sure enough, we tried to resolve the enigma, but to no real avail. Scrutinizing each and every boulder on the ridge, we finally came upon a single rusty metal bolt, placed only a couple of meters from the very spot where we had first touched the ridge. Alas!, the whole affair remained arcane. Since there was no way of helping it we decided to wash it all down with (tepid) canned beer and to enjoy the moment.
But time goes fast. Already the resplendent ligth of the autumn sunset reddened the south face of the mountain, announcing the end of a truly beautiful day. We had to get up, coil the ropes and head back to where we had parked the car. “New day, new route… and – who knows? – next time it might even be the right one!” Aargh! Trial and error…
Back in the car, studying the guide book, all the pieces started falling into place, every feature, every single detail of the face of the mountain, and the route itself. By accident, we had climbed a route with the name Trono degli Dei (engl.: “Throne of the Gods”). Really? How many times had we flipped through the route description, remarking something like: “Strange name for a trad route, isn’t it?”
Indeed. But, after all, recalling once more the broad and comfortable ledge with its huge overhanging roof, and the marvelous view we had enjoyed from the lofty height of such an unlikely place…! It felt as if the mountain had wanted to show us something.
“Throne of the Gods”? By Jove! Now, with hindsight, it seemed only fitting. At any rate, I guess we can rightly claim to have figured out why this rarely climbed route has been named that way.
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“TRONO DEGLI DEI” – TIMPA DELLA FALCONARA (13.10.2019)
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Mountainarious 