3 peaks of Lavaredo - Hasse Brandler

Me: "Fuck, what weather!!!!!!!! Saturday Hasse?" - Carlo: "Yes!"

And so begins another day of mountains, of iron and of joy.

This summer I've been climbing quite a bit, I manage to do about a couple of trips a week at the crag and at least one route a week in the mountains, it's not a bad pace to try to score some good moves.

Last week Carlo and I were busy on the Leviti in Tofana and, despite the report, it didn't seem that hard, so much so that on the way down we started fantasizing about how great it would be to onsight the Hasse-Brandler in 3 peaks.

I have never climbed on the vertiginous north face of the Cima Grande di Lavaredo, I spend the week looking at photo after photo and thinking about what it must be like to hang there. Luckily I know for sure that every now and then there are some bolts on the route and especially the belays all have at least one, this reassures me and I seriously start to think about being able to attempt it on sight without risking unbuttoning all the protection.

Carlo and I have a perfect plan, that is, to divide the route into 3 parts: the approach to the roofs, the actual roofs and the exit at the summit. We decide that he will do the first part, I will do the second and the unaware Checco will do the third. In fact, we have not yet contacted Checco but we have already decided that he will come and that he will lead the roped party to the top when our forearms have finally exploded!

We keep an eye on the weather until the day of stable weather and especially scorching heat arrives. Ideal for going climbing in the north on 3 peaks! As expected Checco accepts, Carlo keeps himself free from work and I take some painkillers for the usual ankle.

In the morning we start before dawn and it is impressive how there are already many roped parties much higher than us! They must have started in the dark! Carlo sets off, me, Checco and the bag follow close behind. The initial pitches are not easy but Carlo is in good shape and, by linking them, he overtakes a few roped parties.

The rock is certainly very rotten but it is so clean and full of magnesium that we are all quite calm.

After a few hours we reach the roofs, from here on it's my turn. While I rest on the ledge I look at the roped parties above me, and I'm amazed. There are those who climb with one stirrup, those with two, and those who even have a jumar.

I wonder what all this means, I can't understand what drives a man to climb a wall in complete artificial climbing exactly as the first ascentionists did several decades before, with the difference that they were heroes who with absolutely inadequate means faced the unknown. Observing them I immediately understand that those roped parties, in addition to being very slow, are also not very skilled with their expensive equipment.

The fact is that time passes and I, standing on the ledge, begin to feel a bit of performance anxiety. In fact, like Carlo, I climbed the entire first part on sight and I absolutely don't want to make any mistakes in the second part.

Finally my turn has arrived, I have at least five very physical lengths ahead of me on constant difficulties between the VII and VIII upper, in short a good test for my arms.

I start focused but also relaxed, the pitons are there and every now and then even some bolts. It's just a matter of climbing as best I can, trying never to waste more than necessary.

Carlo continues to follow me, climbing on sight and at each pitch he encourages me, also suggesting which rope to clip when the climbing absorbs all my concentration. In the meantime Checco takes photos. We are a perfect team!

The penultimate pitch of VIII arrives, I climb it giving it my all, my arms are increasingly tired and the void beneath my feet is starting to make me feel less sure of myself. I reach a good hold, look beyond and see the wall that, while still overhanging, leans slightly, allowing me to glimpse something more above the belay.

I try to stay as calm as possible, even though it's not easy in this situation. I control my breathing and climb towards the belay, skidding as best I can. I know I'm at my limit, if I make a mistake I definitely don't have the strength to correct the mistake.

Stop! This pitch was also climbed on sight! I retrieve the bag, Checco and Carlo. I can't wait to see Carlo's hand emerge from the overhang, he will surely make one of his moans and the usual vein that runs across his forehead will be quite large.

This time reality surpasses fantasy and while I recover it he delights me with a symphony of moans and groans that I would never have imagined, not to mention the vein, much bigger than usual! What a show, even for him the shot is on-sight!

Last hard shot and then I'll hand over the lead to Checco, I can't wait, I'm dead tired.

I start climbing with my arms already tired from the first move, I continue slowly but inexorably until I reach an overhand hold made up of a nice yellow block all cracked.

I grab the block and my mind starts to wander, it's the last yellow hold of the route, from there on the wall flattens out (only VI grade) and becomes grey. Ideally for me that block is the exit door from that overhanging, harsh and severe world, but that I love so much.

I am on the edge of the wall and I am about to come out, but we know that the most interesting things always happen on the edges, where different worlds touch, observe and study each other. I have never understood if the borders are made to contain something or to be crossed in search of something but in this specific case the border dictated by the yellow socket must certainly be crossed.

My one-way ticket to the vertical world is that yellow block, I just have to pull it. I cautiously start to set up the sequence but a cramp in my right arm makes the exit from the overhangs anything but simple. I am forced to swivel in contorted positions while Carlo and Checco cheer me on.

Sghiso, I take the cracked yellow block again and get out of that overhanging hell! Finally my weight is totally distributed on my feet. I still have several meters to the belay but I'm really done, so I improvise a belay and catch up with the rest of the team.

Carlo arrives at the rest stop, he too is dead tired but still finds the time to criticize my rest stop and, to my question "what should I have done?" he answers with a lame "there were a thousand better ways to do it". Checco looks at us and bursts out laughing, I continue until the real rest stop, I sit down and finally give the lead to Checco.

Checco is obviously very tired and so reaching the summit will be anything but a walk in the park but at least here your feet will rest on something!

Pitch after pitch the summit gets closer and closer, Checco sometimes curses us for having brought him here as the first route of the season, but we don't pay much attention to him, after all it's still the same Checco who a few years earlier skied with us from the top of Civetta with both ankles broken, mind you, he had broken them a few weeks earlier, but he didn't want to hear of giving up Civetta!

Between one moan and another we are at the top! On-sight for me and Carlo, heroic mountaineering for Checco, great day for all three!

We arrive at the car for dinner, very tired but with in our pockets not only the Hasse-Blander on sight but above all an incredible day in the mountains experienced on the border between sport climbing and classic mountaineering.

La Hasse is an incredible route, it tackles the repulsive north face in a more than logical way. The first ascentionists had a lot of courage and very limited equipment, I think that nowadays to really appreciate an ascent of this kind you should at least try to climb it without the use of artificial means. Pitons and bolts are present along all the hard pitches and a fall should not lead to too serious consequences. Definitely a great climb that I absolutely recommend.