"Ehy Nick! What are you up to in the next few days? I’ve got four days off... you know what that means, right? We have to plan something exciting, one of those epic trips we love…"
And that’s how it all started.
After considering several destinations, including Furkapass and the Satellites of Mont Blanc, the unpredictable weather made us reconsider an option that always proves to be a winner.
The Valley.
The one and only Val Masino, our favorite valley, the place where Nick, some of our dear friends, and I dreamt up and completed our first “serious” climbs in the wild, all on our own, exploring and learning step by step how to find the best route in this vast sea of granite.
It was 2020 when, wide-eyed and inexperienced, Nick, Gughi, and I set off to tackle the magnificent Spigolo Vinci. It was a grand adventure for the three of us, so small in that vastness. Needless to say, it was love at first sight.
Four years later, after wandering around the valley, we’re back. This time, we opt for something less mainstream, perhaps even forgotten, I dare say. It’s Andrea, a dear friend and passionate connoisseur of these places, who gives us a few interesting ideas. He tells me about his repeat of the SSW (South/South-West) Negri-Bonacossa ridge on Pizzo Torrone Occidentale, shows me some photos, and it's love at first sight all over again. My first thought was: “How can such a grand line, in such a wild environment, have been forgotten?” At certain points, the sharp ridge reminds me of the famous Spigolo Vinci… it’s simply stunning.
Already fired up, we gather some information over a beer with Andrea. His stories make our eyes sparkle even more. We snap a few pictures of the black-and-white pages from an old guidebook, trying to collect as much information as possible.
The night is still young, and a party at Kundaluna keeps us entertained until late. We only manage to crawl into bed around 3:30 a.m., but no worries. The next day is “just” the hike up to Bivacco Manzi, so the alarm is kind. Well-rested (despite a few too many beers the night before), we head to our first stop: Bar Monica, where I worked a few summers ago, for a hearty breakfast to fuel us up.
Ready.
We dive into a pleasant walk through Val di Mello. It’s around 11:30 a.m., the sun is blazing, and the sight of the crystal-clear waters of the “Bidet della Contessa” lures us into a refreshing dip—just what we needed. Feeling fresh, we head towards the end of the valley, and finally, there it is: the long-awaited sign "VAL TORRONE" on a boulder beside the trail. Now the real climb begins: heads down, let’s get moving!
Our backpacks, far from light, and the midday heat start to take their toll. Maybe it was also those 2300 meters of elevation gain we tackled a few days ago! But we stay determined and focused on the goal. In a wild move, Nick decides to carry some firewood up to the bivouac—crazy! We’d thank him for it later.
Once we emerge from the forest, the breathtaking view in front of us makes every bit of effort worthwhile. An amphitheater of incredible walls welcomes us into Val Torrone. It’s like the first time, and I’m moved by such overwhelming beauty. Wild horses and a few donkeys accompany us along part of the trail, making us feel at one with the surrounding nature.
There it is—the bivouac! My eyes catch a glimpse of a tiny red speck among the rocks... it seems close, but the path is still long. I grit my teeth and encourage my legs to keep pushing, step by step, until the distance melts away.
We arrive, exhausted, at the stream just below the bivouac. We decide to refill our water, relax, and cool off. Without a second thought, we strip down and plunge into the icy waters of the creek. Our weary feet are reborn, and the fatigue eases.
What a rush of life!
My mind relaxes, the warm sun and light breeze dry my skin, and my heart fills with a deep sense of peace and gratitude. Every doubt, every worry melts away. Val Torrone cradles us on its warm boulders, with the gentle sound of the flowing water in the background.
This precious tranquility becomes, in an instant, the answer to all my questions.
As the sun begins to set and the temperature drops, we push through the last meters of elevation to reach Bivacco Manzi, perched at 2538 meters, in an enviable position. As soon as we arrive, we drop our packs and start leafing through the notebook filled with stories and dedications from those who came before us. We leave our own note and then decide to prepare all our gear for the next day, “so we won’t have to think about it anymore,” says Nick. I agree.
The ridge we’ll be tackling is 1000 meters long, with 5th-grade climbing, all to be protected. The descent will be down the opposite ridge, and if all goes well, we’ll need to rappel three times, 20-30 meters each, to reach the ground again. So, we pack a 60-meter rope, a set of cams, a set of nuts, a nut tool, a hammer and some pitons, 5 quickdraws, and a few slings and cords. We each carry 1.5 liters of water, some salami, a chunk of cheese, and a bit of dried fruit… no energy bars for us this time—we’re not athletes, just explorers! The pack is ready!
Time to cook. We dine on couscous with tuna, lentils, and peas, then wrap it up with a hot herbal tea and some delicious bisciola. Pure joy!
The sky is clear, the stars are bright, and the air is crisp, freezing my nose, but “I feel amazing.” Nick lights the fire, and we relax, listening to the crackling wood and soaking up the warmth of the flames. I savor the magical moment for a while longer before heading to bed, ready for a good night’s sleep to recharge.
6:15 a.m.
The alarm rings. Breakfast. By 6:45, we leave the bivouac. The beginning of one of the most incredible days of my life, though I didn’t know it yet.
We descend towards Picco Luigi Amedeo, circle around it, and climb up to Passo del Torrone (2518 m). From there, crossing moraines, we aim for the small, shaded snowfield at the base of the rocky amphitheater.
The crossing of the snowfield turns out to be more challenging than expected. The snow is still very hard; we manage the first, more gradual part fairly easily, but then the steepening slope forces us to carve out footholds with some rocks we find scattered on the snow. Our progress slows drastically, and our wet hands start to freeze until we can barely feel them. But here we are, with patience, finally reaching the start of the route.
The original line follows the “Lurani” couloir, where the slab wall meets the SSW ridge, but the thirst for adventure is too strong. So, Nick and I decide to tackle the face head-on, following its weakest points. We build anchors on rock outcrops and open three fairly challenging pitches (6a?) of about 40 meters each, finally reaching the ridge, where the sun peeks through, ready to warm our cold bones and hands.
The view that greets us is priceless. A perfectly aesthetic, razor-sharp edge, with incredibly sharp and solid rock. From here, we proceed in long pitches, using quick protections and anchoring on rocky outcrops here and there, and even on a wonderful natural thread (a rare occurrence on granite).
The difficulty never becomes excessive, but the exposure is total; we find ourselves on the knife-edge ridge, dividing the Val di Zocca on the left and Val Torrone on the right. We move quickly, alternating between rope pitches and climbing together in less vertical but still demanding sections.
We stop for a brief break at 1:00 PM, and from there we can finally see the summit of the Western Torrone. From here, in about an hour, we’re at the top!
A small pile of stones confirms we’ve made it to the summit. We are truly happy; the view is insane, but our focus and adrenaline remain high because “the worst” is yet to come.
Looking hesitantly to the east, we try to find the right path to take us towards Punta Alessandra, our reference point for finding the start of the rappels. The traverse turns out to be anything but easy.
We encounter sections along the ridge, exposed traverses over slabs, short and tricky downclimbs, and a rappel of about 20 meters. We then reach more unstable and fragile terrain, with many loose rocks. We scan the area, searching for the best, fastest, and, most importantly, safest line of descent.
We know that Andrea and his partner had left some slings for rappelling a few years before, so we sharpen our eyes to spot them. And finally: “Here’s one, Nick!” I shout. We are relieved; we’re heading in the right direction! It might seem exaggerated, but finding a trace of human passage up there, in such a harsh environment, brings real comfort.
I go down first. The rope is almost at its end, but then, a few meters to the right, facing uphill, I spot another sling. Fortunately, the terrain is easier here, and by traversing a small ledge, I reach the next rappel. Now it’s Nick’s turn. He rappels down, but there’s no sign of any more anchors, so we carefully choose another outcrop and leave one of our slings for the final rappel.
Feet on the ground. Or rather, on the snowfield below.
We pack up the ropes and continue the descent, first sliding down the snowfield, then walking across steep, smooth slabs, cut by many trickling streams. We eventually rejoin the outbound path. Safe, familiar ground. We take a break, drink, and eat what’s left after the climb, mentally preparing ourselves for the endless return through Val Torrone.
Returning to civilization is always filled with conflicting emotions.
On the one hand, I wish I could be teleported back to the village, take off these damn shoes, and have a beer. On the other hand, the cursed nostalgia. Nostalgia for solitude, for beauty, for silence. Nostalgia for adventures. Nostalgia for wild peaks. Nostalgia for real life.
As we get closer to the village, reality sets in. The small talk. The social interactions. The responsibilities. The thoughts that didn’t exist just moments ago. Gradually, they reclaim me and my mind. The needs return, needs I hadn’t felt for days... and then I ask myself: do I really need them?
Who knows.
I look at the world down here with different eyes and spirit, knowing that, up there, there’s a beautiful, useless world that, without giving me anything, manages to give me everything I need.
9:00 PM. I take off my shoes and drink a beer. I am the happiest girl in the world. Thank you, mountain.
Thank you, Andre, for the inspiration. Thank you to Bonacossa and Negri. Thank you, Nick, my loyal companion in these wild adventures.
Until next time,
Elena
IG: @ele.rigamonti
