Blog 15 (Dolomites Trip) Friday 24th – Sunday 26th October

Sorry I’m so far behind, I’ve been quite busy, anyway, this blog post is about the trip that I went on to the dolomites, which the school goes on every year. It is for people who do climbing as their physical activity, and is run by Anne, the chemistry teacher. The people who went on were: Me (primo, UK), Francesco (primo, Italy), Petra (prima, Croatia), Pablo (secondo, Mexico), Patrick (secondo, Canada), Lorenzo (primo, Italy), Nancy (prima, Singapore), Prodpran (prima, Thailand), Anna (prima, Canada), Marcela (seconda, Brazil), Alex (secondo, Belgium), Marton (primo, Hungary), Seva (prima, Lithuania), Signes (prima, Denmark) and Job (primo, Netherlands). Aila (prima, Finland) was supposed to come but she was ill. I really felt so sorry for her, we all did.

On Friday I woke at 6, although in reality I hadn’t been asleep for the past hour due to some ridiculous snoring. I managed to stumble into the shower, and then get a piece of bread for breakfast, the only thing possible as there was no milk.

On the van I slept for an almost glorious three hours, before waking gradually to find simply stunning mountains overshadowing us in the (relatively) tiny minibus. As I drifted between sleeping and not sleeping, new mountains would appear out of the mist, while other peaks disappeared round corners or into fog.

After a brief stop off to the toilet just outside the main city in the area, Cortina, we reached the starting point for the day’s adventure. A car park that would normally cater for skiers in the winter, close to both a cable car station up the road and across the road a ski run with those little ski lift things that you sit on and you get pulled up by.

After a little walk up the slope, we reached the proper starting point, just past a now crumbling world war one hospital in the foot of the mountain, which is the INSERT. The dolomites area is literally steeped in history, with large amounts of fighting between Italy and Austria-Hungary over the border, being fought here. We found the start of the via Ferata, essentially where the mountain went really steep, which was marked by steel cables.

Basically via Ferata means ‘iron way’, and what has been done is steel (originally iron, hence the name ‘iron way’) cables have been put on many of the mountains in the area which allow you to scale a mountain in a way otherwise impossible, due to the steepness and precariousness of the ascent. About every metre or so is a peg anchored into the rock, to which the main steel cable feeds through. This means that if you were to fall you would only fall about a metre as your harness (oh yeah I forgot to mention that, everyone has a standard climbing harness, with two clips attached to short ropes, which are in turn attached to the harness) would catch you. It also means that you wouldn’t knock everyone over like dominoes. This course seemed pretty much brand new, and as it turned out it was. Anne (the Chemistry teacher who runs the climbing activity, and who has organised this trip for pretty much the last 20 years. She really has dedicated her life to the UWC movement, to Atlantic college in the seventies and then UWCAd from its opening in 1983) told me later that the course was actually constructed by the Italian mountain army, the alpini, as a training course, so it wasn’t on any official trails or maps, meaning it was relatively unknown. Although as Anne explained, climbers tend to tell each other stuff so really a lot of people knew about it.

The climb up was quite fun, actually, and was made all the better when you looked behind or down and saw the incredible view. We ate lunch (very nice sandwiches prepared by tuttidi, the supermarket next to the school) just before the peak, as we decided to wait until everyone had arrived before getting to the actual peak. At the top instead of the cairn I’m used to in Britain, there was a cross, which had also been coated in barbed wire (either to stop the cross disintegrating or blowing away or as a warning. Or both) which was most probably from WW1. There was also a little wooden dug out, which was apparently also from the war. From the top you could also see the cable car station on top of the mountain across, which was where we ended up on Sunday (see below).

We descended the mountain by foot, which was (as often seems to be the case) more difficult than the climb up. It’s more just that it hurts your knees quite a bit. As we paused for a photo on top of a huge rock, I succeeded in bringing a lot of attention to myself by doing a little trick taught to me on our ski trip to Montgenevre, in the Alps, in year 7, by our instructor Eric. Basically, once you have finished with a juice carton, find a small twig thick enough to jam the hole where you put the straw, blow up the carton, shove the twig in, put the carton on a hard flat surface (eg a rock) and stamp. BANG. Hahahaaa… Very satisfying, although it genuinely did sound a like a gunshot with the huge echo. I recommend you try it.

At the old hospital, there was a rock, which Alex had climbed and I followed. I then proceeded to sit on it and for some reason everybody else, who were sitting about 10 metres away on a wall, started saying that I was the king. It’s kind of hard to explain a joke thing like this, but anyway I took to it like a baby turtle to the sea, singing Rule Britannia whilst lording over the ‘commoners’. We were most amused.

It then took about another hour to reach our lodgings, next to Lago Landro if you know the area (I certainly didn’t). Basically the building was a large cottage thing, with a large kitchen and dining room (with a glorious log burning stove) on the ground floor, and then up some creaky steps was a room with three beds (for the teachers), a bathroom, and then two large bedrooms, one for the boys, one for the girls, each for 10 people. Five beds were on the floor and then cleverly there were five above on a sort of structure put into the ceiling. It’s hard to explain. I would’ve taken a photo, if my camera hadn’t decided to die on the journey in the morning, just after I woke up.

There was also a further attic bedroom but we didn’t use that, as any room we used had to be tidied…

As we arrived we met the parents of a former student (interestingly enough she is doing her maters at Durham), who comes from Sudtirol/Alto Adige, the region which the dolomites is in. For the pat five years or so, apart from when the house was being redone, they had got us this accommodation for a really good price.

Most of us went into the forest literally just outside the house to play games, such as Ninja, human twister, and then more running around games in the forest, like one where you have one person in a set spot and then everyone else goes to hide nearby, and if the person can see anyone shouts their name, so they’re out. They can then shout bread and water and hold out their hand (shutting their eyes of course) and everyone has to run, hit the hand and get back to hiding within 10-15 seconds. The winner is whoever is closest to the static person. Another game, which was most frustrating (but fun at the same time) was where everyone hid in the woods, and then if I saw them they had to follow right behind me, but if someone saw them, waved to them and they waved back they could run to a different hiding place. Annoyingly half the people hadn’t understood the rules properly so kept running away with no prompting… It was fun anyway, and provided a perfect excuse for Patrick to try and mock (and consequently fail epically at copying) my accent. ‘I say Robin, can’t you find me?’… etc etc.

Another amusing thing was finding that the cows in the nearby field all had bells round their neck, which jangled constantly, meaning there was a surreal chiming all night long…

Dinner was a delicious pasta, cooked by Paola (one of the Italian teachers from the school who helps Anne to run the climbing), Lorenzo, Francesco and Anne.

After saying goodbye to the parents of the student, we played a few card games, and I attempted to remove a splinter I had picked up from the ancient floor, even through my thick woollen socks (I think I succeeded, but I couldn’t tell due to the deepness of which I had dug into my toe and all the blood. At least the sharp end of the safety pin I had used to dig it out had been sterilised by Anne in the fire of the stove).

Really most of us were just exhausted, so we gradually drifted to bed around 11. As I was drifting off to sleep Patrick, who was on the bed next to me, began to snore. So I moved downstairs and got a very comfy night’s sleep, for the beds were actually far better than the ones at the school. The ones at the school would probably be on the level of, say Scottish (for I have to say, from experience, Scottish youth hostels have always been worse than any of the ones in England I have visited, although naturally I am happy to be proved wrong) Youth Hostel beds… How’s that for a (now that the amount has increased by €5000) €25000 a year scholarship?

Saturday 25^th September

On Saturday we were woken at 7, with some people seemingly having already been up since 6, but then subsequently told as it was raining we could have an extra hour in bed (bad weather meant we wouldn’t be able to do the original course we planned, as it would be too dangerous, so that meant we would probably do something that wouldn’t need as long time). Luckily I hadn’t bothered to get up, meaning I enjoyed my extra hour very much.

We were woken properly at about quarter past eight, to be told that it was snow snowing. Patrick came in to apologise, in an awful British accent, for snoring, and then I went down for breakfast.

After making myself lunch for the day, and then getting dressed (for at that time most of us didn’t realise there was hot water in the shower, and even if there was, it wasn’t the kind of trip where washing was fully necessary…) we put all our kit on, and went outside into the falling snow. The ground was a strange mix of snow and (clean, not brown!) slush, so I immediately set about making one of those snowballs where you roll it in the snow and it gets quite huge. Prodpran had never seen snow before, so it was really remarkable to see her reaction. Suffice to say she seemed happy.

I didn’t actually know what the plan for the day was, I just knew that we were going on a hike instead of a via Ferata. I also knew that Carlo, the climbing instructor, wasn’t coming with us as he thought we would all just end up soaking wet (which we did, but for good reason, as you will see).

Our walk took us on a gradual ascent up a long river valley, and whilst the snow had stopped falling, everything was covered in about an inch of snow, apart from on the path where it was melting and water flowing downwards, a depth of snow which increased as our altitude did likewise.

The sky was beginning to clear by about 11, and as you looked back, we saw an amazing view (see photos) of the mountains backed by blue sky. At the end of the relatively gentle river valley, we then began a ridiculously steep ascent, up a long and winding path. Exhausted we were, but we were at least rewarded by lots more snow, as the altitude was higher, every metre we climbed. And the view was amazing still, and added to by the fact that fog was now seeping into the valley we had just walked through, while the sky above remained blue. I walked with Pablo, Signe, Nancy and Seva, and after a good hour we stumbled to a flat plateau, coated with about a foot and a half of snow, where about half the group was waiting, eating lunch (the other half were behind us). In front lay the famous, Tre Cime, or Three Peaks, and where we had stopped was a flat bit on an altitude of about 2150 metres. Job informed me that Francesco and Anne had carried on to try and get to the rifugio, the refuge, at about 2400 metres, where most people walk to, and that if I wanted I could carry on, but they were just going to wait here.

I decided to carry on, as although exhausted would’ve have been disappointed if I just stopped there. How glad I was that I did. Before the next proper incline, I had about half an hour of walking by myself through almost untouched snow (following Anne and Francesco’s footsteps), in awe of the truly serene beauty of the snow, the mountains, and the sheer vastness of it all. I know it sounds cheesy but I just loved it.

I bumped into Lorenzo just before the steep bit, he was turning back after trying to follow Anne and Lorenzo, which put me off a bit but I thought the least I could do was carry on for a bit. I was mightily cheered, when, about 50 metres above me, and at least a good half an hour’s walk, Francesco spotted me and said (not shouted – for sound travelled incredibly well) ‘Robin!’ Anne then told me just to follow their tracks and we would meet at the top. After a really quite gruelling 45 minutes, I saw the top of a building. As I carried on round the bend, three whole buildings loomed into view. I can’t really describe how happy I was to have reached the top (or not quite, but as far as most people can go, as the photos below show).

The only problem was that when I finally found Francesco and Anne, in the outside bit of the restaurant of the hotel, eating their lunches, was that I had dropped my lunch somewhere between leaving the rest of the group and the rifugio, it must have been one of the many times I stopped to take off layers. I’m not normally a fan of red apples, but never have they tasted so good, when Anne gave me two of her extra supply.

The walk down was fun and fast, with us running a lot of it, and Francesco and I ending up in shorts and a t-shirt.

However as we descended we could still feel the heat of the sun, but we moved into the fog, which had spread up the river valley and on to the mountain proper. Gradually we heard voices and calls. Suddenly the others came into view, about 30 metres away. And what they held in their arms was not a good sign. As we walked towards them, and they rushed towards us, I handed Anne the sandwiches I’d found on the path, knowing that she would be in best position to take care of them, and braced myself. Patrick and Alex were the worst, but really I didn’t mind too much. At least I’d accepted it, whereas Francesco had ran up the hill to the side and as he came down to attack they bundled him down another slope. In all fairness, it was all pat of the fun, and whilst I was slightly peeved, I appreciated that they had been waiting for a good hour and a half (and during this time they had constructed a HUGE snowman, as well as spent an hour having a snowball fight) and everybody received the same treatment as Francesco and I did.

After a group photo, the way back down was nice, in that it wasn’t strenuous, just, as usual, annoying on the knees. If anything, for me, it was a little sad as I knew we were leaving this little secret world up in the clouds to come back down to probably melted snow. And I was right, at our level, the snow had completely gone, save the ball of snow I had made that morning. A group of us had made sure we were at the front of the group (we tended to spread out quite a lot – for example the last people got back half an hour after we did) so after an interesting discussion with Marton, Job and Alex about what we thought about the occupation of Palestine (well you can probably tell what I think of it just from that sentence), joined later by Francesco and Lorenzo, we got back to get the hot water in the shower. Oh how nice it was.

After putting on new, dry, warm clothes I put my other stuff on to dry, and putting on the kettle for the others, I settled down by the fire (or log burning stove).

At around 6 I went with Job to the nearby hotel/bar/restaurant/souvenir shop on the nearby main road. I was looking for postcards and Job the church, which as it turned out was closed. I ended up buying not just post cards but playing cards, both normal ones with pictures of the region, as well as the region playing cards, the ones which I played with with Moritz and I wrote about in my blog a while back. And also a sticker of the area we were in, and a very reasonably priced (€2) guidebook of the region, mainly because it has stuff about the history of Sudtirol.

When I got back, Marcela and Pablo lambasted me (rightly so, in hindsight) for all my pointless consumerisms. Well at least I got some post cards. I stayed talking with them for a while, getting second year knowledge and learning about teachers, the EE, and stuff that you can’t really find out from anyone else, for a while, and attempted to play a card game or two, but really I was just tired so went to bed. Actually something I just remembered was that Anne, when the Italians were making tea (dinner), was reading the guardian weekly, and she recommended it highly. Although they haven’t been quite on time in terms of delivery recently…

After a brief moment where Pablo followed me to every toilet I tried to go to, blocking the door, and the subsequent fight (please, when I say fight, I mean it in the old fashioned sense of jovial scuffle, as in a play fight) between Francesco and I on the one side, and Pablito and Lorenzo on the other, I really did go to bed.

Sunday 26^th September

We had an early start on Sunday, being woken at 6.30. And I was exhausted. And there was very little breakfast, as all we were eating what hadn’t been eaten yesterday. Fortunately most of my clothes had dried, and there was enough bread (just) to make sandwiches for the day’s lunches.

After I packed I went downstairs to the dining room where about half the group was discussing what to do that day. Carlo, the instructor, wanted to take us to a climbing wall, as the weather conditions were still bad at the higher altitudes we were going to. On the other hand most of us thought that it would be silly to not make use of the opportunity we have in the location (as in you can go to a climbing wall a lot more often than the dolomites). So we settled on a via Ferata.

After the hour’s journey to the starting point, we did sort of feel a bit different (as in we wanted sleep, not a mountain), but in the end I’m glad we didn’t not go. And we sang Christmas songs in the van, due to the fact that everything around us was like what Christmas should be  (mountains, snow on the ground and falling, pine trees, log cabins) We were only up the road from our starting point on the Friday, the first climb, at a different car park. Since it was like a blizzard down on our level, we decided to spend a bit of extra money and not do the walk up, instead going up by the cable car. At the station we arrived at I think the mountain was the Falzarego), we got kitted up, sheltering from the storm. Fortunately, it soon ended, and so we before the day’s proper action started, we had a ten minute outside walk along the mountain. In places it was more than precarious, especially the crumbling paths which didn’t have a cable to clip our safety harnesses onto. Although on the plus side at least the temperature was slightly above freezing, meaning that the snow covering the paths was still soft, rather than ice…

We reached the proper start of the via Ferata on the edge of a trail, which gave a stunning view of the mountains in front, as well as the distance between us and the ground. Basically this day’s via Ferata goes right through a huge world war one tunnel that was carved into the mountainside by (I think) Austrian soldiers, while the Italians were attacking from below. This happened quite a lot (border disputes) in the war and there are a number of mountains that had their summits completely obliterated when the Italian army blew them up. Anyway, it was basically a downward tunnel, much of it in the dark, along steep, ramshackle steps, for about two hours. The via ferata cable was also sometimes not exactly well maintained… However, what was amazing was how much of the First World War is still there. Literally there are so many little viewpoints/gunning points carved into the edge of the mountain, and then there are things like the commander’s office, the medical office (both external, as opposed to being carved from the inside of the rock), and there are loads of sandbagged gunning points left, too. At one point (although it was for obvious reasons kept behind a fence) there was even one of the mounted guns still left at one of the positions (Moritz, who wasn’t on the trip, but comes from Sudtirol, told me later that in many of the gunner positions that are dotted in the mountains all over the region – one mountain is called ‘Castello’ – the castle as there are so many indentations from gunner positions – you can still find guns and other untouched items from the war. I also know that there are other via Ferate which use the tunnels, as well as abandoned ones. It’s incredible, really). There were also helpful signs explaining some of the places every now and again (I later found out that the tunnel is a Unesco world heritage site).

At the end of the tunnel bit (approximately half way down the mountain) we came to where would be our lunch stop, a small external area, but which was still sheltered (it must have also been made in the war) by the overhanging mountain. I certainly appreciated having the light, as in the whole journey I was basically borrowing light from Francesco or Lorenzo in front, or Alex behind, as we didn’t have enough head torches.

About half of us then decided to go on an extra walk along the outside of the mountain to the see the canteen (and I know it’s just the normal Italian word for canteen, but it’s still remarkable how both this little hut and our school canteen are both called ‘mensa’) and then further along (along yet more insecure path) an unexplained hut, which had clearly been reconstructed some time since last winter, as the wood was new and some building materials still there. The thing is, though, that I was thinking, how did they get everything up here? So if I’m thinking that for today, how in god’s name did they get everything up in the war? (I later learned that some supplies were brought up by pulleys in the dead of night to avoid them being shot down, but that still doesn’t explain where all the concrete came from…)

The other truly incredible thing was simply imagining what it must’ve been like to live anywhere on this mountain. I highly doubt that they would’ve had the periods of leave and systems such as we have in the army today, in the midst of world war one, so what would it have been like in the middle of winter, at -30 odd degrees? (Centigrade). Also the distance of everything was so great, for example the mensa is a good two and a half hours’ walk from the top, down steep, slippery, dark and cold stairs for two hours, and then along the side of a mountain for a good half an hour. And it was all such a lot for so little gained in territory, in terms of the actual fighting (most of the border changes came in the aftermath of the war).

After eating lunch back where the others were waiting and doing a final rendition of Patrick and Anna’s Canadian song ‘I saw a bear’, we carried on down the mountain, this time reaching the path that we would’ve used to come up and start the via Ferata from below, had the weather not been so bad earlier. Unfortunately, since I was at the front, along with Job, and also the fact the path literally zigzagged down the mountain, it meant that we were prime targets for everyone else (most notably Alex and Patrick) for throwing snowballs at.

I managed to get back at Patrick at least three times, by hiding, Japanese kamikaze-style, behind rocks and/or trees with a huge clump of snow, waiting for Patrick to come by and then launching it in his face. Actually the running away immediately after bit by me wasn’t so kamikaze style… And the last time I took a wrong turning, meaning as I rejoined the path he was able to catch up with me (also my lack of energy helped him) and take further revenge. The height difference doesn’t help, either. Armistice was signed.

Still near the front of the procession, I managed to get to Van numero sei, which was the one going straight back to Duino. Van number one was going via the house where we had stayed, as Pablo had not come on the walk as he was feeling ill, so had stayed and tidied the house. Now I know you might say it’s selfish, but I didn’t particularly want to be travelling home for an extra hour and a half, if it could be helped.

After Paola (the teacher) came down and opened the van, I put my stuff on the seats and then finally managed to go to the toilet. At the shop I also bought a couple of postcards and a souvenir one showing the day’s route.

As I was attempting to sleep in the first part of the journey (very difficult as the van is probably the least comfortable of all of the college’s, due to it being one of the oldest), I compiled a list of what I need if I am to do anything like that (that being the trip) in the future:

-New, sturdy waterproof coat (my cheap one tends to stop being waterproof after a while)

-Gloves (I have some where the lining always comes out when you take your hands out, unless you precisely hold each finger and remove them one by one…

-Head torch, ‘nuff said.

-Hiking backpack. I was using my school bag, which got the bag smelly and also there was not ventilation system for removing moisture from the back, and apparently sweat is the worst thing when it’s cold as it evaporates, losing you body heat.

-Waterproofing stuff to re-waterproof my trusty boots.

Unless I see any of the above cheap I will wait until I’m back into the UK, as things hear are soooo expensive.

I did eventually manage to get to sleep, but when I woke up, after thinking it would surely nearly be the end of our journey, I was annoyed to learn that I had only been asleep for an hour and we still had two hours left…

We stopped off at an almost deserted (but it infinitely nicer than Moto or Welcome Break, on our roads) service station. Since we were all awake by now, after going to the toilet we continued our journey by playing various not particular satisfying games of ‘who is the first person to spot…’ From pink houses to industrials chimneys we moved to road kill and then to giraffes, and then to German soldiers… On the plus side Job had plenty of Dutch liquorice, which is absolutely delicious. Alex also talke to me about how he is either going to go to university in Belgium or the UK. This added to the feeling that I really don’t want to go to any of the US universities… At the moment certainly I am thinking about the UK, specifically Scotland as it is cheaper… but that’s all in the future.

After a longer than expected journey, we got back to Duino and then to Pala climbing store. After sorting out the recycling I went back to Fore, to briefly say hello to everyone, but more importantly to have a long hot shower. I was very pleased when I saw, a note saying ‘you have been missed’ (turned out to be from Sana) and another, although perhaps not so pleasing, note saying, ‘Robin sucks’ next to it. Pesky Italians. After the glorious shower I added to what I had already put in the washing machine (very very smelly) and set it on to wash at number 11.

I then went to check my emails and Francesco came to put his photos on my laptop (helpful for both of us, as I don’t have a camera, and he doesn’t have a laptop). About an hour later, Job walked in and told me how he and Alex had come up with the idea of all the boys (since we all live in fore, it’s easy to organise) wearing suits to the meal we were going to have as a round-off to the climbing trip. So, 10 minutes before I suited up, in my quality ASDA £19 suit jacket, and school trousers (in my defence, I am anticipating to grow, so it would be a waste of money and shame to have to buy and then not be able to wear a more expensive suit. Although I seriously do want a Northumbrian tartan kilt. Interestingly enough, Northumbria tartan is said to be older than Scottish tartan, as remains have been found from an earlier date – 4BC – and we are the only region of England to have our own tartan).

We seriously did look like the mafia.

We met everyone else at the restaurant, and had a lovely meal (it was at da Ciro, the pizzeria, it literally is the only restaurant in the area – Duino is basically just houses, most of them old people or holiday homes), despite the lack of service from the charming waitress. I was placed at the head of the table, in my role as ‘Emperor of Britain’, and we all had a good laugh when Seva tried to order Pizza with sausage and it sounded like she ordered Pizza con paracetomolo (pizza with paracetamol). I also got another chance to talk to Pablo, who I was sitting next to, and then on the way back, about the Mexican stereotype and how much the US is overplaying the border wars. Especially when the USA is instigating most of the border-fire…

When I got back, I emptied the rest of my bag, put the washing out to dry, and spoke to Christian for a bit, and then we had our first room meeting of the year. It actually is very important to communicate and get across our problems and sort out any issues. During the meetings we have decided not to let anyone else in the room until it’s over, and whilst we are taking minutes these are only for us as we want the room meeting to be private.

After a good hour of communication, we ended the meeting and Gabriele went downstairs to work. Moritz then came in for a chat, at which point Zaid saw a scorpion fall onto Gabriele’s vacated position on the end of the bed. I froze for a minute, sort of intrigued, but Moritz grabbed the pad of paper from my hands and dispatched with it efficiently. We seem to be having some what of a scorpion epidemic, recently, signs informing us to tell Siavash (secondo, Iran), Gilbert (secondo, Uganda) or Stefano (primo, Italy) in the event of a scorpion finding, are everywhere. There’s even a dead one (a dead scorpion, not a dead sign…) sellotaped to the door of the day room reminding us that ‘SCOPRIONS ARE NOT CUTE’. I’ll try and get a photo for the next blog.

After a phone call avec mes parents, I went to bed, tired and exhausted after what was now an almost twenty hour day, but happy to have had such a fun weekend.

Photos:

I am sorry to say that none of these photos are mine, due to the fact that my camera died on the journey on the friday morning, shortly after I woke up. So most of these photos are Francesco's, but some are also Anna's or Nancy's, which I have lifted from Facebook.

Friday

Me at the start of the walk

The starting point

Anne, the climbing instructor, strutting her stuff

A view of the abandoned hospital

Lorenzo

Me

Left to right: Lorenzo, Marcela, Francesco, Anne

The five towers

Lunch (almost) at the summit

It does get cold when you stop moving

Our photo at the top

(on the paper it says 'Aila', as she was with us in spirit)

The cross

The mountain named 'The castle' due to its small caves from the war that give it the effect of having windows

The cable car station where we would ascend to on sunday

(although obviously it was different when we actually up there, in the snow)

I'm the one standing up in the grey, with Marcela next to me, Signes in the red, Alex is the tall one and I can't make out any of the others...

(Incidentally this was also very near where I made the BANG)

Me, the king (complete with crown)

With accompanying plebs, bowing down to us from below

Saturday

Breakfast in the morning

Pablo, Signes, Me, Nancy

Actually a really good action shot 

(in the background is the valley we walked along, with the fog slowly encroaching)

A view of the mountains, this snow in the front is where most people stopped for lunch and had the snowball fight (although obviously if you went in the opposite direction to where the camera is facing you would find the large plateau thing)

Me, Francesco and Anne at the rifugio

As I explained to Francesco, it's not Juventus, it's Newcastle...

Moi

Francesco

The famous Tre Cime. It would've been pretty difficult to climb. So that's why we stopped at the rifugio

Me, with shorts, and Anne

I asked Fancesco to take this as these were the footprints that guided me

At the place where we were attacked, photo taken in the aftermath of the war.

To the left is Patrick and in the centre Petra

Sunday

Francesco and Lorenzo, at the start of our pre-tunnel walk

Me, resplendent in my climbing harness and via Ferata equipment

Still on the path, most of this was apparently constructed in the war

Basically to the right of this path was a sleep slope that led to a cliff, which in turn led to the ground

Lorenzo and Francesco at the door of the tunnel

A view out of one of the WWI gunner positions.

(In the front, you can just see the tip of the plank, which is left over from the war)

A view of the tunnel. Lorenzo is at the front, hiding me, with the others and their lights behind us.

Paola (the teacher) on the extra bit, after the tunnel, where we went to see the canteen and the reconstructed building

This is said reconstructed building, with Patrick and Lorenzo

Before the attack...

...and After

Now these two photos below are of roughly the same view. The bottom one is a bit further zoomed out, though. My main point is that it shows the difference between:

On Friday...

...and Sunday

for some reason I couldn't add any more photos... maybe that's a good thing. Anyway, ciao!