Punta Sella in the Biellese Alps
Letter #68: Pumped to be back in the mountains, but a bit freaked out about losing the trail. 🙃
10/13/23
That Wednesday, August 16th, we planned to stay at Rifugo Coda. The lodge clocks in at 2,280 meters above sea level in the Biellese Alps of northern Italy. Emilie and I decided to pack one heavy bag and one light bag that we would switch on and off carrying up the mountain. We shared what we could to make our pack lighter—deodorant, toothpaste, soap. Emilie packed lunches of cheese and jam sandwiches, apples, and peaches for us to share along the way.
We set off, both of us elated to get a break from working at La Trappa. Our initial few hours were pretty easy-going. The sun was out and the trail was well-marked. We passed over lush, grassy land, trekking along the river, the ground cover of heather surrounding us. After some time, the sky began to turn cloudy and we knew we had only a short window before the rain would start to fall.
Fabio had warned us that the trail was poorly marked as we got closer to Punta Sella. Emilie led the way and together we trouble-shot as best we could. At some point, though, we took a wrong turn, no longer able to determine where the trail was.
I pulled out our paper map and my phone to try to decipher our position. I knew that our Google Maps location may not be totally accurate without having data that high up, but at least we could see if we were headed towards the rifugo. From what I could tell we had to cross over a peak to reach our destination, and yet there was no longer a clearly marked path—we had lost it. The mist was setting in, the mountain now fully submerged in the clouds, our visibility became limited. There was no one else around. But we decided to push on rather than backtrack.
Our choices were to crawl up the loose rocks that we hoped would lead over a pass, or to skirt around the side of the mountain, opting to stay in the bushy areas that sometimes gave way, threatening a twisted ankle. Neither option seemed great, but we were antsy to get over the peak, so we opted for the rock scramble. Emilie advised me to stay a ways behind her just in case she set a rock loose and it tumbled my way. 🫣
We precariously picked our way over the rocks, careful to test which ones were solid and avoid the ones that weren’t. We were both a bit freaked out but grateful to be making the decisions together. We laughed nervously as we agreed that our moms would kill us if they knew what we were doing at that moment.
Eventually, we emerged over the pass and could hear goat bells in the distance. We sensed we were close to finding the trail again, and that the scariest part was over.
At this point, the visibility was next to nothing. I could see maybe 15 feet in front of me as we continued hiking upwards. Emilie let out a big cheer ahead of me when she realized we had made it back to the trail—I could barely see her. I’d never been so happy to see those little red and white paint markers in my life. We both rejoiced and admitted we were quite scared. We were probably lost for only 25 minutes but that time felt so much longer when we weren’t sure if or when we’d get out of it.
We passed two shepherds running down the mountain after their goats, about 6 mountain dogs, and a puppy that was barking and chasing behind them. They called out to us that we had about another 35 minutes before we’d reach Rifugo Coda. The mist had turned to a light drizzle and I was ready to get inside and put on warm clothes.
We hadn’t even realized we reached Coda until it was about 10 feet in front of us. The fog was that bad. We started to crack up, so relieved we found it, but also amazed at how we couldn’t see any of the panoramic view that the rifugo boasted.
Emilie and I ducked into the building just as the drizzle became a full on rainfall—we were SO happy to have made it. We took off our boots at the door and slipped on a pair of Crocs the owners supplied, happy to give our feet a break. We’d only hiked about 6 hours, but emotionally were a bit drained from being lost. We dropped our bags off in the room we were to share with an older woman who was trekking alone. We changed into fresh, warm clothes and headed to the dining hall to split a bar of chocolate and a half litre of red wine before dinner.
The wi-fi was miraculously so fast up there, so we connected with friends and family back home, sent pics to each other from the trek, and indulged in the use of our phones rather than reading and journaling as we had intended to.
The clouds broke around 6pm, so we ran outside to take in the sweeping views over the Aosta Valley. The views I had seen in the Himalayas were larger than life, but this panorama was stunning in such a different way. As far as the eye could see, layers upon layers of mountains stretched endlessly into the horizon. The combination of the setting sun and the rain coming down in the distance cast shades of indigo throughout the peaks. It was like looking at a painting, except I was experiencing the subject in real life. The sky was pink and purple, somehow both cloudy and light. It was the type of view I have dreamed of seeing all my life.
Luckily, Emilie and I both have no problem sharing our true emotions with one another, so we ran around in our Crocs, taking a mini-photoshoot, so happy to be up in the mountains. She pointed out Mont Blanc in the distance—we had clear visibility of both France and Switzerland in the distance.
Once the cold wind began to pick up again, we headed back inside to enjoy our wine and wait for dinner. It had been a while since I had that excited feeling of having a drink after work. 😅 Even though I was in a work exchange, I was still living under someone else’s roof, submitting to their rules, so it felt good to escape into the mountains and be on my own schedule again.
Dinner was served around 7:30pm. It was nothing special, as the owners have to fly in all their food or have someone carry it up with a donkey, but still—the 75 Euro price point for a mediocre dinner and a shared room felt steep. Showers were out of the question—they couldn’t afford to waste all that water. Emilie and I split a huge bottle of water since we knew we’d have to replenish before the trek the following day.
We went to bed around 9pm that night, agreeing to get up by 7am to begin our trek the following morning. We had about 8 hours more of trekking ahead of us and the weather would be threatening more rain.
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