Some dreams take root in the mind and become progressively more vivid within us. For several months, I had known that, together with the CAI Eagle Team, I would be leaving for Patagonia. Excitement, fear, and the desire to test myself were strong, but the departure seemed far away, and daily chores made the trip seem like something remote.
And yet, in no time at all, I found myself on a plane bound for Patagonia, at the edge of the world. The rush of emotions was intense, both because we were in a setting that truly makes you feel small, and because our dreams were truly big.
A few months earlier, together with Matteo Della Bordella, Luca Schiera, and Camilla Reggio, we had shared the project of attempting the northwest face of Cerro Piergiorgio. The idea was to complete the Gringos Locos route, a visionary work by Maurizio Giordani and Luca Maspes in 1995, which had remained unfinished for thirty years.
When I arrived in Patagonia, I knew that the odds of completing the project were very low. This is my first non-European mountaineering expedition and, although aware of my inexperience, I was motivated to aim high. I knew that even just a good attempt would be, for me, an incredible success.
All this was true, but only partly. Because inside me, I had always hoped that climbing that face was possible. I set out with the determination to make it and with the awareness that I would give my all to succeed.
FIRST STEPS IN THE LAND OF WIND
We settled in the town of El Chaltén. The village has a tourist dimension and life moves slowly. Patagonia is an unpredictable land. You have to learn to interpret the weather, which often hinders the climb. It often rains, the wind makes its strength felt, and outdoor activities are severely limited. Other days, despite the weather being decent in town, the situation in the mountains is far from favorable for tackling big climbs. Bad weather often remains confined to the mountainous areas, and these days can be used to climb in town or stay in shape.
The days spent there allowed me to get to know my travel companions more deeply. Expeditions have this incredible effect: they allow you to discover people's most authentic character, which often remains hidden in more "social" settings.
After a few days, a small sliver of sun ignites the desire to explore these lands. Camilla Reggio, Luca Schiera, and I head towards les Aiguilles Guillaumet. Luca, unfortunately, will have to leave us shortly after departure due to a physical problem. This first outing immediately makes us understand the majesty of these mountains, despite being one of the fastest climbs from the village. In two days, we tackle the east face of the mountain: covered in snow, we laboriously make our way up to fifty meters from the summit. At that point, intimidated by some clouds that threatened bad weather, we decide to descend and return to the valley.
FIRST WINDOW OF GOOD WEATHER
In mid-February, a first window of good weather opens. Due to a series of coincidences and injuries, the rope team that will attempt the climb of Cerro Piergiorgio will be composed of me, Matteo Della Bordella, and Mirco Grasso.
The base camp is located about 20–25 km from the road, so the first day is dedicated to the approach. Unlike Matteo and Mirco, I had never seen the face in person, only in photographs. The Piergiorgio is the last mountain that can be glimpsed, and the surrounding faces already instill fear. After passing a ridge, the mountain presents itself in its entirety before our eyes. It is enormous. You feel crushed by the size, the compactness, and the majesty of the face. No matter how much I had tried to imagine it, the visual impact in person is incredible. In my whole life, I had never seen anything like it.
At that moment, thoughts begin to wander. I feel a "rational" fear, almost overshadowed by the desire to test myself, to give my all, and, if necessary, to give up, but only after having confronted myself fully with the face and my abilities.
For three days we climb, gaining meter after meter. We fix fixed ropes every day and return to the base of the face every evening. We are in radio contact with the base camp: from there photographers follow us and we coordinate the drone during the climb.
At first glance, the face seems impossible: a smooth slab of granite. Yet, climbing it meter after meter, the holds emerge that allow us to advance – sometimes free, other times with the help of cliff equipment.
At the end of the first window of good weather, we come out hopeful. We have fixed 480 meters of fixed ropes, all those at our disposal. We knew that, with our abilities, we could have reached the top, but a good dose of luck would also be needed for the weather to be on our side.
SECOND WINDOW OF GOOD WEATHER
About ten days pass before the weather offers us new hope. On paper, this second window seems significantly more favorable. So we return to the Piergiorgio valley, a little less heavy than the previous time.
Uncertainties increase when we realize that the faces are completely covered in ice. As the day passes, they begin to clear up slightly. Furthermore, the next day we would have had to climb back up the fixed ropes for several hours before resuming the climb: useful time for the face to clear up further.
On this second occasion, the approach to the climb changes: we have to sleep on the face and optimize the times. The next day we climb back up the ropes and start climbing. I open the first challenging pitch, which I overcome in a short time. Then I prepare for the second, but we realize that the only possible route has turned into a waterfall due to an iced-over dihedral above us that is melting.
Although we were full of enthusiasm and still had many hours of climbing ahead, we are stuck on the face. We look for alternatives, but we find none. We resign ourselves, set up the portaledge, and wait for the next day. At dinner, discouragement is felt. We talk little, but it is clear that the possibility of having to give up is high. The weather forecasts announce a worsening in the next two days.
We go to sleep. Despite the low expectations, we understand the privilege of being in such a place. We are aware that we had to give our all, regardless of the outcome.
The next morning we wake up at 6, dismantle the camp, and resume climbing. I open a particularly technical pitch: a mix of challenging free climbing and long sequences of random artificial climbing. It takes me a while, but I reach the belay. Matteo starts after me and, giving his all, quickly overcomes the next pitches. Then it is Mirco's turn, who leads us to the ledge of the 22nd pitch.
We look at each other. The weather forecast for the next day is an unknown, probably prohibitive. It is 8:00 PM, and we understand that the only possibility of reaching the top is to keep climbing. We leave the bivouac gear and continue in the dark.
I start again on the last pitches. They are not technically challenging, but they are full of ice. I make my way through the iced cracks, with an ice axe on my harness. I reach the top at 3 in the morning. Shortly after Matteo and Mirco reach me. It is the middle of the night, on a day of new moon. Around us only darkness, wind, and cold: we take a photo and hurry to descend.
The feeling is completely different from what I had imagined at home, as if I had realized after the fact the intensity of the journey that brought us up there. At 5 in the morning, after 23 hours on the face, we are finally back in our sleeping bags. We sleep for a couple of hours, then start the descent, recovering all the equipment left behind.
We did it. We completed an incredible, difficult, unique project. The most intense and challenging climb of my life. Rationally I knew that giving up was much more likely, but every day unfolded in such harmony that it always made me feel in the right place. As if climbing the Piergiorgio was, at that moment, the most natural action I could perform. Not without difficulties, of course, but with a determination I have rarely felt in my life. Inside me I have always cherished the hope of reaching this goal.
Thank you to Matteo and Mirco for sharing unforgettable moments. That week, between late February and early March, will hardly be replicable. Three days after the Piergiorgio climb, I find myself in Milan for the proclamation of my Degree in Environmental Engineering. Everything fit together perfectly, as if an unexpected harmony had aligned all my goals. Now, several weeks later, I am still processing this incredible adventure. Meanwhile, my mind is already projected towards new dreams and new destinations.
© photo: Frank Quaglino, Enrico Luoni, Italian Alpine Club