Earlier this summer I have injured my knee, which meant that I had to cancel my big mountain climbing trip.
Luckily, with time I regained full function and was ready for some big climbs.So, I contacted Albi and planned to come a few days early, before the big group arrival.
The plan was to climb in Austria , the Grossglockner , however… Mother Nature had its own plans. Lots of snow …
So I went to Cortina, and climbed in the Dolomites.
First day was Becco di Mezzodi , 2,600m .The mountain could be seen from the hotel in Cortina , which is at 1,200m .It seemed far and unreachable. It was a sort of Triathalon -7 miles up the mountain on an e-bike ascending 3000ft, followed by a hike at high altitude and finally rock climbing.And repeat in reverse order .It was a long day. 8-9 hours , non stop.I devoured the pizza at night.
Next day was an “easy “ day . It was cloudy , so we went to Cinque Torri. We did a few climbs, and it felt good to do a lead climb on the same crag that I climb first time in 2015.
The last day was an ass kicker .We climbed in the Friulian Dolomites, about 1 hour and 45 min from Cortina. We did the “Campanile di Val Montanaia”, a landmark and a “must do “ for all respectable climbers.
We had a long approach, on steep uneven terrain and scree gaining 2,500 ft, -followed a 9 pitch climbing and a vey exposed traverse to the top at 2,171 m. Another 8-9 hour day.I had a huge steak at dinner . I almost swallowed it whole.
Had a very short sleep, and at 2 am I drove with the guides to the Venice airport, in order to fly to Nice.
Once there , we get swept up in three vans like rock stars with climbing ropes, and head straight to La Turbie, a charming village perched just above Monaco. We lunched like royalty at Brasserie Pampérigouste, gazing down at Monaco and pretending we could afford a yacht (spoiler: we can’t).
From there, we zipped across the border into Italy, picking up the Schwartzs in Imperia*—because no adventure is complete without backup. *Finalborgo, our medieval stronghold (ok, it’s a town, but it felt like a fortress), greeted us with stone streets, ancient charm, and La Contessa, a 14th-century farmhouse that whispered of days when Wi-Fi was a distant dream. For night one, a few of us were shipped off to *Ca’del Buio*—which translates to “House of Darkness.” No ghosts, thankfully, but the name kept things spicy.
The next morning, we found ourselves on the Queen’s Road, a path literally fit for a queen. In the 1600s, the Spanish Infanta Margaret Theresa took this route on her way to marry the emperor. No pressure.
Then came the Italian Riviera—aka Riviera di Ponente (“coast of the setting sun”—pretty poetic, right?). Our first test of courage: a horizontal traverse of the Capo Noli*cliffs right above the sea. Some of us glanced down; most of us immediately regretted it. As a bonus, we explored the *Grotta del Edere (Ivy Cave), where we rappelled into the dark, hoping our headlamps wouldn’t fail us mid-descent. Fun fact: if you hear strange noises down there, it’s probably just your heart pounding in your ears.
When the rain came, it was time to go full tourist mode in the Toirano Caves, a prehistoric wonderland filled with 24,000-year-old bear bones and the ancient footprints of humans who, presumably, didn’t bring waterproof jackets. The caves, by the way, are the biggest bear cemetery in Europe. Not creepy at all.
On a sunny day, we scaled the mighty Rocca di Perti, followed by dinners so good, they erased any fear from the climbs. Speaking of which, a shoutout to Osteria del Cantoniere in Melogno—half an hour up into the mountains, it felt like we stumbled into someone’s kitchen, where they graciously fed us until we rolled out like stuffed ravioli.
Then it was off to France and into the belly of the beast—*Gorge of Verdon*, Europe’s largest canyon. 200 meters of rappelling, followed by a scramble down loose scree—because why walk when you can slide? The evening spa at Hotel & Spa des Gorge du Verdon in La Palud was well-earned (and much needed).
Rainy days = museum days. We made a pit stop at the Musée International de la Parfumerie in Grasse, where our noses were treated like royalty. Let’s just say we all left smelling a little better.
We closed the trip with two days of climbing in the Calanques of Marseilles, a paradise of jagged limestone cliffs and turquoise waters. Day one, we tackled Calanque du Sugiton and La Candelle*—the latter being the mascot of climbing in the region. Dinner in *Cassis followed, a stunning seaside town flanked by Cap Canaille, one of the tallest cliffs in Europe.
And then, the pièce de résistance: the photogenic, postcard-perfect Calanque d’En-Vau. White cliffs plunging into purple and turquoise waters, rugged trails, and a beach so pristine we considered never leaving. Our final climb, La Vire du Grand Rappel, was the grand finale—every step reminding us that the most beautiful places require the hardest work.
And with that, we returned to Nice, tired, thrilled, and already planning Sardinia 2025.
Big thanks to the crew—*Albi, Lucca, Alessandro, Checco, Beppe, Carlo, and Andrea*—for guiding us, keeping us alive, and always knowing where the best food was.
And big thanks to the participants –Schwartzs,Karschs, Zarges. Zitrons, Kameans, Ed and Stacey .
