Ascu Stagnu - Auberge U Vallone

How do I even begin to describe this insane day? I’d had a fitful sleep and felt fatigued right from the get-go. The power I usually feel pulsating in my legs simply wasn’t there. I started out from Ascu at dawn, my body feeling sluggish and uncoordinated. Looking up at the Monte Cinto crest, I felt my stomach dropping down to my feet. It was SO far, SO high. I couldn’t even see the top of it, only mean-looking crags poking at the sky. I’d be stuck with this mountain for hours. I passed hikers and was passed in return. Fervently chewed sour gummy worms and drank gross electrolyte water to not die. Had to pull myself up vertical walls using chains so thick and heavy I could barely lift them. Next: giant boulders, more rockface and slippery scree where I had to throw myself upwards to fight the downward pull of the loose rocks.

To my surprise, I found Michael and Lizzie perched on a small plateau in the sunshine. We exchanged our customary morning report and complained of the gradient. The plateau, however, was merely an outpost as the climb continued. Up, up, up. Two hours. Three. Gummies, water, groan. Why do I do this again? I though back to other hideous ascents and descents I’d encountered during my trail days. Glen Pass and Travers Saddle seemed like cutesy hills compared to Monte Cinto Monster. Every ounce of my determination was working to full capacity. Please, I begged in my mind. Let it end!

And there, at last, after 3,5 hrs of climbing up to 2700 m. The divide. Jesus wept. I sank down to remove my shoes and socks and indulged in a proper tortilla/ham/hummous lunch. Lizzie and Michael popped over the edge after only a few minutes, to their triumph not far behind me. Mountains beckoned us on from the south. To the north lay the coastline, where people were lounging on beaches, eating ice cream and not dreaming of our hardships. Coming down the south side was gentler, but I longed to stretch my legs. This trail is so mentally challenging because every moment is one of complete concentration. You can’t let your feet or your mind soar because every step needs to be carefully calculated – or you will tumble down the mountain and die.

Down the scree, over Bocca Crucetta, descending into an alpine valley so beautiful that I switched to saunter mode and picked my way down gingerly. No more rushing today, I’d earned some lax. I could see Refuge de Tighjettu below and heard a cascading river on my left. The sun shone pleasantly warm on my skin, casting off the white rock and illuminating everything in a white haze. Pools began to appear in the river. Thru-hiker speed instinct aside, I want to do this trail right. I picked a pool, soaked my dead-beat feet and leaned against my backpack to read a good 40 pages of The Glass Castle. Refuge de Tighjettu just didn’t give me good vibes when I arrived, so I guiltily settled for emptying my menstrual cup in the squat toilets and hiked on. A large “Closed” sign pointed to Cirque de la Solitude, an old section of trail where a massive landslide killed seven hikers in 2015. Beyond the sign was nothing but eerie quiet, looming mountains with no intent of giving up their secrets.

On my way to the next refuge, Auberge U Vallone, I found what I’d been looking for all along: a wild camp spot. Double Yatzy! And just below lay a deep green crystal pool which I had all to myself. The GR20 delivered today. I swam naked in the pool, showered in the waterfall and lay exposed on the rocks while butterflies fluttered around my legs. Embracing solitude with gusto, I marvelled at this roller-coaster ride of a trek. I was falling for the GR20 in all its untamed, magnificent ruggedness. A walked by my tent in the afternoon, stopping for a lengthy talk and asked if he could come back later. I tried discouraging him gently, to little avail.