Night Terrors

We go to bed at 7pm as usual, hoping for a restorative sleep under the sun. Unfortunately, the storm we’d been fleeing for three days finally decided to show up tonight. A mountain storm isn’t just a few flashes lighting up the sky from time to time. It’s a multitude of bursts, a myriad of explosions embracing the night. A little worried, we count the seconds between each flash and its thunderclap. At 2am, the storm is upon us. At 4am, a tent peg gives way; I have to get up in the tempest to secure the tent again. At 5am, torrential rain soaks the bottom of our shelter, wetting sleeping bags and mats.

We’re outside in minutes, ready to brave this capricious weather. A detour to the Manganu refuge allows us to have breakfast in the dry and refill water, before the big ascent of the day.

Fog

The first hour is bathed in a warm yellow dawn light as we quietly climb alongside the cascade. But we quickly plunge into thick fog, which will follow us all day. From then on, the stage is nothing but suffering as we grope our way along windy, damp ridgelines.

When the rain starts, our morale is already low. In minutes we are soaked, to the point of shamelessly running in the stream that now serves as our trail. Reaching the refuge is a salvation; everyone rushes into the small sheltered room to warm up over a hot chocolate. We change clothes, play cards with some Belgians and friendly French folk, and soon it’s time to pitch the tent, have dinner in front of the beautiful view, and go to bed.

Tomorrow evening should be fine, and we plan to reach Vizzavona, the official central point of the GR20.