Passo San Nicolo to Rifugio Passo Le Selle
...and the Via Ferrata Bepi Zac - Tuesday, July 11
After the late start, challenging hike, and super-late arrival, it was only fair to let the group sleep in. In any case, our journey for the day was predicted to be quite a bit shorter than yesterday's, and even with a bit of a sleep-in, it seemed hard to imagine how we wouldn't be able to set off much, much earlier than yesterday's 2pm departure time.
After a light continental breakfast, we headed outside to a glorious sunny morning, warm and calm. There were amazing views in all directions - north to the Sella Group, east to the high peaks around the Marmolada, and south to the rocky ridgecrest of the Costabella. It was that latter ridge that was of interest to us, since our day's planned journey involved heading over to that ridgeline and following it east until we reached the pass of Selle (Passo di Selle), and the rifugio nestled within it.
We had several options to get over to the Costabella ridgeline: we could head down into the deep valley before us (the Valley of San Nicolo), or, alternatively we could climb a grade 2 ferrata up to a high peak towering right above the rifugio, and then down the other side and over to the ridgeline. The Hatkos had not yet experienced their first ferrata, and we were planning to make that intro very easy (i.e. by doing a grade 1 ferrata first). Not only that, but it actually appeared as if the down-into-the-valley variant would actually be less overall effort. For some strange reason, our group was strongly in favor of easier over harder. The valley variant it would be, therefore.
Surveying the day's challenges
After lazing around, watching the rifugio staff go about their morning chores (including receiving supplies from the valley below via a mini cablecar system), we hoisted our packs onto our backs and made ready to head out (at a very lazy time of 10:30 am). We continued following the trail (trail 608) we had arrived on the night before, walking east along the edge of the high pass we were on. It was a beautiful stretch of walking, easy and flat and with an airy drop to the left down into the valley of San Nicolo. Soon the trail angled down into that same valley via a nicely inset cut that ran diagonally downward.
It was a straightforward and easy walk down into the valley of San Nicolo via the switchbacking path of trail 608. Soon (just over an hour later) we were walking across the grassy bottom of the valley. We soon came upon a low and wide wooden building, bustling with hikers and cyclists. Behind the building was a scenic series of cascades coming down a forested slope. This building was the Baita alle Cascate, or the Hut of the Cascades. In my experience, 'Baita' in Italian typically means a mountain hut with a restaurant but without accommodation (and therefore not a true rifugio).
Beautiful Valley-bottom Meadow
We were definitely in the mood to treat ourselves, and the thought of a nice sit-down lunch soon turned into a reality. We found a nice big six-person wooden table near the bar and set about ordering drinks and looking at the very extensive menu - which turned into an extensive and satisfying and quite long (nearly two-hour) lunch.
I was feeling nicely satiated but also a little regretful that we had burned nearly two perfectly fine daylight hiking hours eating lunch. It was now not far from 2pm and we had not yet tackled our big climb of the day - that of the ascent up to the crest of the Costabella Ridgeline. A 2,300 foot (700-metre) ascent, to be precise. No alarm bells ringing yet. Hopefully, though, the climb up would be quick. I wanted the focus, time, and enjoyment to be on our first via ferrata experience.
We headed out from the baita following trail 609 briefly, then turning onto trail 637. It then does what most ascent trails tend to do, which is to say it starts out wide and well-graded, and then gradually gets narrower and rougher as it ascends. We crossed through pleasant forests and meadows before getting into some cliffy bands where the trail wound back and forth, exploting weaknesses. We then emerged out into the open, at treeline, at the base of a long, long slope of scree. We could see the trail start to switchback up this long, long,....long slope. It was gonna be a slog from here!
Passo San Nicolo and Piz Boe
A slog it was, indeed. Lower down the scree was better integrated and therefore each step was fairly solid. As we gained altitude, however, the scree became more loose and more energy was lost in the small backslide that inevitably came with nearly every step. Finding just the right shape of stone - one that was flat-topped and well supported by neighouring stones - became the key to the most efficient step.
As somewhat of a reward for our tiring upward slogging, at each rest break we would turn around and enjoy increasingly expansive and amazing views to the north, across the valley, and to the higher crags and groups of the Dolomites beyond.
Time dragged on as our descent slowed in the tiring scree. The slope became steeper and the footing a little more precarious with each metre climbed. The trail's markings had become infrequent and often unobvious, and as we neared the high end of the scree slope, which was ringed from above by even steeper (and technical) slopes of bare bedrock, it was not at all obvious where trail 637 went. It didn't help that there were several different footpath tracks in the scree, no doubt from other unsure hikers and possibly also from off-trail scramblers and climbers.
The most prominent scree path seemed to level off and traverse eastward to a ramp that was naturally formed into some low cliff. It looked kind of sketch from a distance but it seemed like a possible option. I told the others to take a break while I went to check it out.
The ramp was much wider and less exposed up close, and it definitely looked viable. Clinching matters was a faint, very faded trail marker paint splotch on the solid rock wall above the ramp. I called back for the others to come along. This was definitely the way.
courtesy BConnell
courtesy BConnell
The ramp led up fairly easily to a higher area of sloping scree. Gillian found the ramp area a bit unnerving but I think we can chalk that up to unfamiliarity with this sort of terrain. Generally speaking it was quite easy. A fairly distinct foot-track led upwards diagonally across the higher scree, and we could tell that the ridgecrest was now quite close. Various holes and weird structures were also visible in the rock above us: remnants of World-War-I emplacements, no doubt.
courtesy BConnell
Our entire group finally managed to crest at about 6pm. That was... ...much later than I had expected. The long scree slog had taken us over four hours to complete - not a particularly fast pace.
The warm and clear sunny weather, unfortunately, had given way to a bank of cloud that rolled in over us - immediately making it much cooler and gloomier. I was once again getting a bit concerned about the time, but I was happy about the fact that we were know finished with any large-scale climbing. What remained was some ridgeline, then ferrata, then rifugio. We had less than four kilometres to go, and it *seemed* like we should be able to do that within the three hours we had left before sunset. Maybe. Hopefully.
The trail along the Costabella ridgeline from where we had crested started out super easy: rolling slightly up and downhill, broad and smooth, and with no real difficulties. It therefore only took us about 20 minutes to reach the first bit of the grade 1 ferrata that one finds along this ridgeline. We could see the tell-tale orange marker plaque and some stanchions and ferrata wire cable not far beyond. Time to drop our packs and suit up into ferrata climbing gear.
I'll be the first to tell you that doing anything associated with gear can be a big time-sink - and it was no different hear. Helmets, harnesses, carabiners, headlamps, checking, double-checking - it all takes time, especially if you are new to it. Thirty minutes of time in this particular case, to be specific.
The ferrata we were about to embark on is called the Ferrata Bepi Zac - named after a reknowned alpine guide and rescuer. The ferrata follows through, around, and on top of various relics and emplacements of World War I fortifications, so it is a history lesson as well as a fun climbing route.
Starting off
The first part of the Ferrata Bepi Zac (westbound) entered a brief (maybe ten metres) tunnel section, and then exited out onto the side of the ridgeline, where the wires started. The ridgeline was no longer a wide gravel top here - but instead a narrow crest of bare bedrock. A roughly-cut path had been hewn into the side of this crest, and it led diagonally upwards. The ferrata wire had been added later, and it offered protection for what was a fairly exposed traverse. Evie - the youngest of the two Hatko daughters, was expressing a bit of fear at this first, let's say... exposure... to this exposure. With some coaxing, however, she managed to inch upwards.
courtesy BConnell
The mists of a cloud bank pressed against the side of our ridgeline, lending everything a muted, gloomy air. The mist also meant that we could not see the bottom of the drop below us. The rising traverse was indeed ferrata grade 1, owing to the rough ramp hewn out of the bedrock (which made it more of a walking shuffle than a climb). The wire was more of a handrail and guard, rather than any kind of actual climbing aid.
Easy climbing
We soon finished the rising ramp, and the route went back inside, into a more extensive tunnel network. Various little side tunnels led off to portals and openings in the steep cliff face that formed the northern side of the ridgline here (all of this clearly the work of tunnelers from either the Italian or Austrian militaries of the 1910s). Red-white trail waymarkers led us along the main tunnel, heading west.
