Getting to Grips with Vertigo (part 10, Monviso)

For someone who spends most of my life in the mountains for both work and fun, vertigo is a seriously tricky affliction, affecting both walking and driving in annoying and often completely illogical  attacks. For example – a 3000ft drop posing no problem as long as there are trees, whereas a 30ft drop down a steep grassy bank or scree slope cut into a hill can be paralysing and walk-ending.  I’ve struggled with this for years and while I’m making inroads into overcoming it, it’s excruciatingly slow and I’d love to hear any ideas or success stories anyone has to share before my endlessly patient husband finally loses the plot with me altogether.

For our wedding anniversary this year we decided to continue with the age-old tradition (started last year) of popping up to the higher hills to see off some of August’s more intense heat and gain a bit of altitude. I’d got it into my head for some reason  that I’d like to hike up to 3000m and Viso Mozzo in the Monviso Natural Parc seemed like a reasonable bet.

Scaredy cat that I am, I actually googled the road up to the Rifugio Pian Re where I’d booked us in for a couple of nights and finding it on the  DangerousRoads.org site did absolutely nothing to reassure me – “The road is difficult and it’s a nightmare in the wet or dark (or both). The road still remains an adrenaline-pumping journey and is definitely not for the faint of lungs, heart, or legs”.  Lucky for me the road was pretty fogbound, and I wasn’t driving, so didn’t have to worry much on the way up.

Our destination was so utterly spectacular that our little legs carried us straight off on a mini-hike to see what was round the corner.  What you get in the alps more than Liguria is a lot more water, reminiscent of the Scottish highlands and you immediately notice the difference that a river makes as a companion on a hike – the ever present rush and burble.  What you also get, in this part of the Cottian Alps is the Salamandra Linzai – a very funky looking shiny black salamander that constantly gets under your feet when you’re not looking – one even walked along under my camera bag when I stopped to grab a shot.

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We turned in early after delicious food, some vino and a round of cards,  ready for a bright start the next day – we’d calculated something like a seven hour walk. At the crack of 8.15 we were off, striking out from the car park and soon encountering the source of the River Po, sparking some musings on it’s length and destination (the Adriatic, apparently).  The path climbed steeply upwards, magnificent crags on both sides and we’re on the shores of Loch (ok Lago) Fiorenzaan impressive lake, it’s blue hue reflecting the mighty Monviso. A bit more climbing follows, all on very friendly, non challenging terrain – apart from one tiny section but I push through it without too much worry.  Around the next corner and the delicate Lago Chiaretto reveals itself, named after its startling turquoise waters.

It’s here that I get my first taste of the collywobbles – I can see a traversing path along what looks like a steep scree slope and I start to get myself worked up – I’m feeling pretty strong and determined though so we agree to get on up to it and see how it feels.  Which turns out to be OK, huge relief that I’m not calling the walk off after less than an hour.  It’s a short-lived reprieve though, as in no time at all we reach a rockfall with alarming – “very dangerous, fallen rocks” painted on the boulders which sets me a-jittering again, just in time to get onto the narrow and steep traverse around the edge of the hill.  I’m not liking this much, even though the exposure is only genuinely lethal in about one place – question here for other vertigo sufferers, is anyone else really bad when there’s a blind corner combined with a drop? Because I’m still feeling determined I manage to round the corner and can see the path gets a bit less tricky up ahead, with solid ground on both sides again.  It’s all very rocky, there was a big glacial collapse here in 1989 and it’s not long before we encounter another couple of scary bits, with a fallaway path which Ted coaxes me over – I don’t enjoy it but the drop isn’t the worst I’ve seen and soon we’re onto the boulder field proper which makes me very happy – although it’s not ideal for the dog with lots of big gaps to potentially lose a leg in.  This goes on for a while and with another one or two tricky* sections we finally pop out onto the Colle di Viso and it only takes one look at Viso Mozzo for Ted to firmly declare there’s absolutely NO WAY he’s taking me up there (we reflected later that we should have just started up there and seen what is was like, as a lot of the paths look worse from a distance).  Given that I’m wobbling on a fairly flat wide path that slopes steeply down to the lake, he’s probably right and so we carry on the few hundred metres to the dramatically located (and reachable only on foot or in a helicopter) Rifugio Quintina Sella for a brief refreshment.  The clouds are coming and going on the face of the mountain and I set up a little time lapse while Ted is photographing stills – there’s background sounds from almost constant rockfalls and I think of the climbers up there and hope they’re all safe.

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As we’re not going up the ‘big hill’ we decide to carry on for another hour or so in the direction of a different pass and we stay on splendidly friendly terrain for the duration, giving us time to admire the waterways and the magnificent mountain flowers, omnipresent in both this area of the Alps and Liguria where we are based – every mountain seems to have it’s own unique variety – I swear I see a new flower on every walk.  Today’s special is a rich purple delphinium.  Given that the clouds are swirling and we haven’t seen a weather forecast since yesterday – deliciously wi-fi and cellular signal free up here – we decide that we should turn around, it’s no place to be in a thunderstorm.

The return walk is almost strife free – despite the fact that I’d spent the last two hours dreading the scary bits on the way back with my mind conjuring up all sorts of hideous unwanted scenarios (one of which was disembowelment on a sharp rock!!).  I was only properly scared on one bit but by keeping an eye on the path and putting one foot in front of the other, thanking the universe for the wonderful cloak of fog it had again provided, I make it over the gnarly bit and can breathe easy again for another day.

It was genuinely satisfying to know that I’d stuck with it and managed to do a bit of fear conquering and we decide to celebrate by adding another night on to our trip and do some more walking the following day.  Unfortunately for me, exposure to The Fear has a sensitising rather than alleviating affect and on day three (with hardly any sleep the night before) the chimp part of my brain has got up early and is banging on in my ear from the first sight of steeply traversing path which I’m praying isn’t our route.  I’ve got a whole different level of wobble going on today, I feel dizzy, shaky and almost physically sick on the first few metres of said path and have to beat a very hasty retreat (anyone else do the dangerous drunken run/stagger thing when faced with exposure?) leading to an instant change in destination for the day.  Luckily we’re in another very beautiful valley and it’s no hardship to divert up the other side of the hill.  Until about 100 meters from the top that is, when I find myself completely incapacitated again. Dang and blast.  Ted goes on ahead and comes back saying I’ll hate it (!) and won’t gain anything by carrying on up – but in spite of the fear I’m also seriously pissed off about being beaten, so we decide to stop and have lunch and give it some thought.  There’s another path higher up which I think looks much friendlier and so after a very pleasant hour spent lunching and lazing we go off piste and upwards (following the ibex we’d been watching ascend the hill earlier), clambering up a bit of scree/grass and onto a path that’s pretty much identical to the one we were on, just a bit higher.  For some bizarre reason it’s less frightening than the other one, yet I still grind to a halt (another bend) and Ted has to spend another 10 minutes coaxing me round and up and over with admonishments to ‘really dig my poles in’ and ‘stay upright’.  Embarrassingly there’s actually people up there having lunch who must wonder what this weirdo woman is scared of, but knowing I’ve got to clamber back down again the same way I can only allow myself about 45 seconds of admiring the view on the other side of the Col before I have to go immediately back down before I freak myself right out again.  Ted makes me take the scarier of the two paths on the way back – maintaining that it’s actually the least dangerous of the two and I reluctantly but firmly join him and arrive back where we’d left our packs – because life is always less scary without a pack, right?

Anyway, to cut a very long story short, we had a few really lovely walks in the Monviso park, finished off with a delightful hour sat on a large rock watching the light roll across to us down the valley on Saturday morning.  I’d be fascinated to hear anyone else’s vertigo/fear of heights stories, especially coping strategies or ways to overcome it entirely, please feel free to message me privately or share your experiences in the comments section.

 

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*only for me, it seems

 

 

 

Monte Monega (with a quick jaunt to Cascata D’Arroscia for dessert)

After far too long away from the mountains cabin fever was starting to set in so, having dropped the menfolk off to help out on a friends new roof, Zed and I set our sights on Monte Monega, a hilltop we’d skirted on a couple of occasions but never summited.

Our starting point was Case Fascei, high above Montegrosso Pian Latte, by way of a road we hadn’t travelled before.  The weather was looking a bit patchy with possible cloud covered tops but we were really desperate for some altitude so pushed on anyway.

The path starts of as a track at the end of the tarmac road from the village of Casa Fascei – which looks to have been completely renovated and using the original materials making it very cute.

We pass a very impressive potato field, being tended manually by a local guy who no doubt keeps very fit hoeing his vegetables.  From here we turn right and wend our way up steeply through the trees on a fairly well signposted path which we only lose on one occasion due to daydreaming and soon pick up again.  We make heavy work of this but eventually pop out into the open, a very well kept rustico with an impressive solar array and cow herd on our left and grassy banks to our front and right, covered in wildflowers giving off a heavenly scent.

Afraid the cloud was about to engulf us we quickly scampered up to have a peep over the edge and were rewarded with beautiful clouds and Monte Guardia peeing out intermittently.

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Glimpses of Monte Guardia 1
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Glimpses of Monte Guardia 2
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Glimpses of Monte Guardia 3

We’d reached another track by now – the Via Marenca – and we followed this for a short time until we got to the signpost which pointed us in the direction of Monte Monega.  It was an easy hike up a grassy slope from here and aside from a strange dizzy spell (maybe from having a big dslr with a 100-400mm lens slung around my neck) we were quickly up at the top.  There were remains of what were probably old fortifications and a metal cross, typical of many peaks in the region, and what has to be one of the best views we’ve come across so far, and let’s face it, the bar was already set pretty high.  (It was so good in fact that we went up again two days later to show Ted and Joe and were rewarded with very clear views of the mountains, giving us some great ideas of where to go next).

 

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Looking across to Mezzaluna and Triora
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Back the way we had come, clouds rapidly encroaching the Passo Pian Latte.
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Beautiful clouds 1
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Beautiful clouds 2
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Beautiful clouds 3
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Monte Fronte making an appearance
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Gorgeous wildflowers
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A bit of macro action
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More wildflowers
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More clouds and a great view of Via Marenca

Although we would have loved to linger longer the clouds were building fast and we didn’t want to get risked getting caught in a storm (which we did manage to do two days later, thankfully just after we’d dropped off the summit ridge).  We headed back along to the Passo Pian Latte where the mist came up and surrounded us briefly, nothing to concern us given the size and quality of the track.  The occasional fleeting flash of light lit up the landscape in verdant green.

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From here we took the track down as opposed to retracing our steps through the trees, it made for a longer circular walk and took us through some very beautiful flower meadows before arriving back at the car.  A thoroughly rewarding and uplifting hike, and one I would recommend to anyone who’s good for an hour and a half slog up.

We hadn’t completely run out of energy though and on the road down we passed a sign saying the Cascata d’Arroscia was only half an hour away, and although we were a little pushed for time it was far too tempting to ignore, having heard about these legendary waterfalls.  We fast walked/ran the route and managed to get there and back in about 35 minutes give or take the odd stop for a quick iphone snap – there were some fantastic trees besides the path.  The waterfall had it’s charms, and reminded me of being in the jungle in Sri Lanka, but compared to the waterfalls we’ve got used to in Scotland, Iceland and the Faroes it was a bit of a whippersnapper in truth.

It was definitely time to call it a day after this so we headed home, just pausing for a refreshing dip much lower down this same river, in Borghetto D’Arroscia.

You can see both the routes by clicking on the links below:

https://www.relive.cc/view/1682294471

https://www.relive.cc/view/1682374135 (excuse the typo)

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Awesome tree 1
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Awesome tree 2
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Cute wee bridge.
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The Cascade, it’s taller in reality than this photograph suggests.