Dolomite Introduction — The Punta Clark

by D. M. Henderson

We arrived in the small village of Plan in the Val Gardena by the evening bus from Bolzano. Darkness had fallen as the bus climbed slowly up the steep wooded valley and as we reached our destination a light rain began to fall. This was depressing because we had no knowledge of the facilities in the way of bothies which the area had to offer. However we had brought our tents with us, a wise decision in view of the worsening weather conditions and the sooner they were erected the better.

We left the road in favour of a path which climbed through the trees above a fast flowing mountain stream but we could see no sign of a possible camp site; the hillside above was thickly wooded and on the other side the ground fell away steeply towards the river. We continued in silence, becoming more or less resigned to a thorough soaking when, on rounding a corner, we saw the barn. It was a typical Tyrolean barn, with ample overhanging eaves sheltering a spacious verandah for stacking a supply of wood for the winter. We knew we need look no further. As we approached a woman came out of the cow-stalls on the lower floor, and looked at us with a slightly curious but friendly expression. We said “Good evening”, and pointed up to the verandah. Our intentions were quite obvious and she smiled, led us round to the other side of the barn and up a ramp to the first floor where to our amazement she switched on an electric light and showed us into a clean and spacious room. This was to be our base, our ‘four star’ bothy. We were soon installed and after the usual brew and some supper we were not sorry to crawl into our sleeping bags, a pleasure which was emphasised by the sound of the rain drumming on the roof.

When we awoke it was still raining steadily so we took the opportunity of going down to the village for provisions and also to have a look at Val Gardena which is noted for its wood carving. The output of carved figures from the workshops in the valley is augmented by the families of the surrounding farms who work deftly and at great speed with a wide selection of shaped chisels to produce the pinewood figures which are then sold to the workshops for colouring. We saw very little of the local peaks and went back to the barn for a meal and bed with hopes of better things from the weather next day.

The following morning brought an improvement, with blue sky and sunshine streaming through the tall pines around us. After breakfast we packed enough gear for two or three days and were soon climbing steadily on the path through the woods towards Passo Gardena. The sun was warm and brought steam drifting from the sodden undergrowth. As we emerged above the trees we were delighted by magnificent views of the neighbouring peaks; the massive wall of the Sassolunga, the snow-capped Gruppo di Sella with its subsidiary spires, and the Pizza da Cir.

At Passo Gardena, the summit of the road between Gardena and Corvara, there is a rifugio of the ‘Club Alpino Italiano’, where we booked accommodation for our return and had some refreshment before pushing on towards the Grand Piz da Cir and our first objective, the Adang Camin.

The approach lay over grassy slopes carpeted with buttercups and gentian and it was here that we came across a character. He was a major in the Alpini, the Italian mountain troops, but he greeted us in French because one of our party was wearing a Club Alpin Francais badge. Having established that we were English he proved to be just as much at home with the language and showed great interest in our plans. He had a binocular telescope mounted on a tripod and with the aid of this he was able to describe in detail the routes on the Piz da Cir and its southerly neighbour the Punta Clark, pointing out the interesting or difficult sections. As an introduction to Dolomite rock he recommended a route on the Punta Clark, so we decided to take his advice and leave the Adang Camin until the following day. Having spent some time training with the Royal Marines in Iceland, our friend was anxious to demonstrate his mastery of army jargon as he described the route. One pitch, a chimney best climbed right shoulder in, was translated to us as “face to Gardena, arse to Corvara!”

It was on this note that we took our leave and started up towards the first pitch, where we divided into two ropes, one of two and one of three. The rock was firm and we progressed steadily on good holds up to the lower buttresses. At this stage the climbing was almost direct and periodically the movement of the rope started a minor avalanche of scree which lay on all the ledges, sometimes at the most improbable angle. This was rather disconcerting to the second party, they experimented with a number of variations to avoid the firing line. As we proceeded we became aware of much activity on the slopes below us; army lorries arrived from Corvara bringing detachments of Alpini who advanced towards the mountain on a wide front. Some disappeared up the gullies on either side of us while others strung themselves out on the neighbouring peaks. Our friend the major was directing operations through a loud speaker. By this time we were about half way up the climb, and feeling satisfied with our progress, we stopped for a few minutes to enjoy the sunshine and admire our surroundings. Although this was early June there was still quite a lot of snow lying in the gullies along the north face of the Gruppo di Sella, some of which had looked promising from below. Above them the Sella Plateau rose steadily towards the highest peak in the group, Piz Boe.

Ahead of us our route seemed somewhat indeterminate, a problem we found not uncommon in that part of the Tyrol. There appeared to be a possible way to the right along a rising traverse but this looked a bit ‘thin’ where it rounded a bulge before disappearing. Above was a shallow ‘diedre’ about 80 feet high in which we could see two pitons and these signs of previous traffic led us to try the direct alternative. At first our progress was encouraging but some distance below the first piton the holds became rather infrequent and the way ahead seemed less inviting. The rock here was a yellowish colour, softer and more friable, in marked contrast to the firm grey rock we had enjoyed so far. We realised later that this was a point where a considerable area of the hard crust had fallen away from the face to expose the softer rock beneath.

We discussed the prospects of further progress without much enthusiasm, feeling that the pitons must have been inserted by a party descending by abseil. At this point the major addressed us over the loud speaker.  “Attention, British climbers, you are on the wrong route. If you hear me, raise your right hand.” We raised our right hands, and he continued “Descend 10 metres and traverse to the right.” We duly descended and followed the traverse we had passed previously which proved to be easier than it had looked from a distance and on stepping round the bulge, with a delightfully airy situation, we arrived at the foot of the chimney. We learnt later that the leader of the other rope had been undecided at the time of the loud speaker message. He too had raised his right hand, descended 10 metres, and found the going much easier to the right.

We negotiated the chimney successfully and continued upwards on good rock. Suddenly we were startled by a series of Verey lights and the place was again the scene of great activity as the troops appeared from their various positions and abseiled down to the valley again. We were left alone to enjoy the beauty of our surroundings as we followed the easier rocks to the summit in the evening sunshine. As the shadows lengthened in the valley below we sat down for a moment to take in the panorama and so complete our introduction to a delightful climbing area.