I awoke to the sound of Michael and Carlos chattering…I heard them say “It’s 5am”. Dang, another 5 hours of sleep, or less. Apparently, there was some sort of farmer’s truck that came by the park. The occupants eyed us curiously while the truck idled and puttered. Seems like we drifters t’weren’t welcomed in these parts anymore. So, we drove back to Bormio to stash the car at a parking garage and catch the bus out to the village of San Antonio (there was actually a lot of effort involved in developing this plan), where we’d begin a hike we’d read about in Michael’s “Walking the Alps” book. The first day would be a long one, at least 1600 meters of elevation. We weren’t sure about the mileage, at least 12 miles though. We caught the 8am (or 8:30) bus for one Euro out to San Antonio. From here, we hiked across the street along a creek into the farmland up the valley.

(above) 1) The streets of San Antonio, a little village in the Tyrol region of Italy. 2) I believe this is San Antonio’s likeness overlooking the fountain. These fountains are always running and provide clean drinking water. Very convenient.

(above) St. Goddard’s Church, I think, in San Antonio. He helped drive The Gout away from San Antonio many years ago.

We hiked a long way along road passing farms and pastures. We were occasionally reminded by hiking signs adorned with an eagle symbol. Eventually, the valley turned in the right direction and we could see the pass far in the distance. Our plan was to hike over Zebru Pass to a hut on the other side where we’d most likely stay the night and calculate our plans for the next day. We were still on road which detracted from the wilderness feel. In fact, a small truck came by with three Italians in the front. We thrust our thumbs into the air for a ride (why not?). They waved and kept going.

Around late morning, we were about halfway up the valley and we came across a comfortable homestead where we stopped for expensive maps and tasty cappuccino and apple tart. The owner proudly showed us his Ibex horns. They only spoke Italian and it was sometimes possible to communicate in Spanish, except I was still thinking in Chinese. My Spanish grammar is all messed up now and I’d have to speak for a couple of days until I’m in a “Spanish” mode. Anyway…

(above) Good food a few hours into our hike. We’re really roughing it.

Slowly, we rose above the trees. I eventually got a second wind, no doubt due to the prospect of big views at the pass, so I motored ahead and didn’t stop until Zebru Pass. I planned to take a break there and wait for Michael and Carlos, but it was a little windy and cold. I continued down. The hike getting to the pass was long and monotonous. The trail traverses past lots of talus hills, and scree-filled ribs. Towards the top, I had to cross several wet snowfields. On the other side, I did get the views that I was waiting for:

(above) A view of the Ortler range. If you look in the left hand quarter of the image, you may be able to see the hut (look below the curving glacier).

I headed down to a comfortable grassy area and relaxed and waited for Michael and Carlos. Michael showed up thirty minutes later. We could see Carlos still exploring high on the ridge. He’d found some World War I ruins that he enjoyed investigating. Michael and I went down to the Hut and checked on prices. It was very expensive: 42 Euros for the night (dinner and breakfast was included) if you had an Alpine Club membership (I didn’t have my card on me) or 58 Euros if you didn’t. OK, dealbreaker. We decided to continue hiking out the other side of the pass. There were two other huts lower in the valley. We could reach them easily in a couple of hours and we still had at least four to five hours of daylight. When Carlos returned, we told him the plans and we continued on.

The hike out the valley featured big views and a comfortable trail that wended through high alpine meadows pockmarked with large boulders that we frequently stopped on for pictures and general goofing around. Michael and Carlos enjoyed setting up various bouldering routes.

(above) Bouldering around, lovely views looking back up the valley

Some of the areas featured more World War I ruins. The Italians and Austrians fought it out here resulting eventually in Italy claiming this area and much of the southern Alps from Austria (I actually need to brush up on my WWI history). We continued down past more idyllic farms until we arrived at the Forni Pension. At a price tag of 39 Euros per person, it was much more reasonable and also more comfortable.

(above) World War I ruins

(above) Carlos and Michael at chow time. Italy is ruining our ability to go back to freeze-dried meals with this superb salmon and roasted potato dinner. Oh yeah, I forgot that they brought back extra soup and lasagna to us.  Funny to think back to the time that Michael, Aidan, and I traversed the Picket Range and loved those freeze-dried meals so much.

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The previous night featured lots and lots of rain hammering the range. By morning, the rain had stopped but the thick swirling clouds remained. It wasn’t a good day to climb, so we opted to hike. We used the map and hunted down a loop hike that featured a via ferrata. Being in the hotel, we slept great and enjoyed a large breakfast (where we also prepared fresh sandwiches for the hike). We navigated the hairpin turns down the pass and went to another small village, caught the lift to the top of the ridge where we started our traverse.

(above) Along the ridge, View of the mountain with the via ferrata (we climbed up and over the righthand buttress)

(above) Heading to mountain

The ridge hike was an easy stroll along paths bordered by deep green foliage. I’ve gotten to the point where I enjoy every type of outdoor hiking activity and it didn’t matter that this hike was a piece of cake; the views were impressive. To the west, we could see the huge north face of the Marmolada rising up towards the clouds.

(above) Panorama looking west. The massive north face of the Marmolada is on the left side of the photo.

The beginning of the via ferrata was easy to spot. This side was quite easy; we may not have even clipped in, I don’t recall. Very soon, we were on the top enjoying our fresh sandwiches and goofing around.

(above) Michael plays air guitar on the summit while Carlos looks on.

We started the via ferrata descent down the front of the mountain, which was visible from the gondola as we were ascending. Immediately, it was steep. There’s special gear for via ferratas nowadays - two clips attached to lines that, if you fall, are designed to pay out more line such that nothing snaps. We didn’t have this gear, nor did we want to spend the 85 Euro on it, so we used standard harnesses with our daisy chains. Our attitude was basically, “We’re climbers and, as is the case during simul-climbing, we’re not allowed to fall.” On a vertical via ferrata, the shock from a direct fall of about 10 feet catching on an iron pole is quite immense. Not a problem though; we’ve downclimbed lots and lots of hard ground.

(above) Beginning the downclimb of the via ferrata. Immediately, the terrain is steep and doesn’t relent for a long time.

We were enjoying ourselves quite a bit. Then so suddenly, it seemed, the rain began. We started moving more quickly. Then the small hail started. We were on a vertical ladder, which overhung in sections, during the most fierce part. Well, no one enjoyed this, but it was never desperate - in fact, I went back up the ladder part way for Michael to snap another picture. He made me hang there for a long time - my wimpy, no-recent-climbing arms got tired!

(above) I snapped this shot of Michael looking down the ladder during the hailstorm.

Thankfully, the weather moved on almost as quickly as it had come, but the route was soaked and a good bit more slippery. We were cautious the rest of the way down, relying on via ferrata “rappel” technique to aid our way down. At the bottom, we concocted another plan: The weather was due to be lousy for another day or two in the Dolomites, so let’s leave, go west to drier ground, and do a multi-day hike. OK, though it’s aggravating to change plans so suddenly, this capricious weather didn’t leave us much option. We decided to head to the Piz Badile area near Switzerland. I was totally into that, wanting to get a good look at that fabulous north ridge. But on the way, Michael had another revelation and we opted for the closer Ortler range. While Carlos napped, I piloted Michael and I up the ridiculously steep and high Stelvio Pass (40 switchbacks) to the tunes of Richard Wagner (the spectacular overture to the third act of Sigfried comes to mind). In the distance, set against bluish eerie moonlight, we could see the massive hulk of the Ortler looming over us with tremendous relief. The town of Trafoi provided a wonderful backdrop and I doubt I’ll ever forget that view with the town’s church steeple in the foreground. Though the setting was amazing, it was getting very late. We were due for another late arrival and struggle to find a place to crash. At the top of the pass, we changed the music to weird experimental synth music that Michael was fond of. The mood changed and we talked of zombies and dead things that most likely occupied the abandoned huts that we passed on our way steeply down to the town of Bormio. In Bormio, we drove here and there looking for a place to sleep. Eventually, after rationalizing that we should leave town, we steeply climbed one of the valley walls and took an improbable turn at a bar and soon found ourselves at a small and quiet park. The ground was soaked and we bedded down as best we could. Though it appeared it would be not too well-traveled, I remember multiple motorcycles and one car with stereo blaring driving right past us as I fell asleep.

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We had an excellent spaghetti dinner after climbing the Fuenffingerspitzen and, more importantly, were able to “wash up” in the bathroom in preparation for sleeping by the car again. We knew the weather wasn’t going to cooperate the next day so climbing wasn’t an option, but we could always hike. What’s a little rain (and thunder and lightning)? We picked out a lake to go visit and set off around 9 or 9:30 pm for our destination. As was to be the pattern for the trip, we searched and searched, trying to balance the need for sleep against the speed of the car going around the hairpin turns. By 11pm, we were at the lake, crossed over a dam, and Michael pulled in to a horrible parking lot that was doubling as a construction site. Both Carlos and I were set on looking a little harder despite our exhaustion, but Michael had had enough and collapsed into a state despair. Carlos took over piloting the car and doggedly took us down another street to a fantastic little parking lot with a small green area overlooking the lake. Here, we crashed and slept hard until past 8am the next day. I don’t even remember turning over.

We pondered over several plans for the day and beyond. The weather wasn’t cooperating on this trip, so we were changing plans constantly which made for arguments, expressions of pros and cons, and differences of opinions. Well, eventually we settled on making plans for the day. We had been sleeping on the northern side of the Marmolada. We could catch a cable car and go do a via ferrata there, or, I pointed out there was a lovely green ridge that we could hike along the southern end of the valley. It turned out that Michael had hiked part of that ridge before, which featured old World War I ruins, and vouched that it was a great hike. Eventually, we settled on hiking the green ridge. However, we went in the other direction and made towards a refugio. Along the way, we passed tons of people coming down. Eventually, we were one of the few parties high on the ridge.

We made it to the refugio in a little over an hour having also spent some time on the edge of a buttress with a lazy meadow on top. We saw approaching rain and made our way to the refugio as the rain caught us. But inside, we enjoyed some apple strudel and cappucino. These Europeans do know how to comfortably enjoy the mountains. Having come from the North Cascades, this didn’t feel like a hiking and climbing vacation. After the snack, Michael volunteered to go back and pick up the car and drive it to Pordoi Pass while Carlos and I would continue on by foot.

(above) Looking east at a cairn high on the ridge

(above) Looking west towards Pordoi Pass somewhere in the distance

The three of us walked together to a small col. Michael went right, back to the car. Carlos and I turned left for Pordoi Pass. But, before we were separated completely, we paused for lots of pictures among the dramatic clouds. The north side of the ridge was engulfed in roiling clouds while the south was unobscured. We hiked our own directions and were soon out of sight of each other. Carlos and I turned constantly to take pictures and video of the amazing cloudscapes. We were treating the day very leisurely; every time we’d arrive at a new vista, we’d take off packs and suck in the scenery. We were perhaps being a little too leisurely when the clouds finally conspired and pulled together a little storm that scared us down the ridge. Carlos and I were hiking quickly as the rain and wind intensified. The rain was driving hard against our faces and we sought refuge against a large boulder where we quickly adjusted our jackets to cover our packs. As we began down the trail towards the next refugio, the thunder and lightning started. We marched fast and made it to the hut, which had powered down in the face of the storm. That didn’t stop us from getting some more strudel though. As the storm raged outside and our wet gear slowly dried, we enjoyed the strudel and talked about the various bolts of lightning we’d seen. Some minutes later, the refugio was closing and we decided to make the quick run to the next refugio, only a hundred yards away or so. This one was “certainly open”, according to the owners of the refugio we were in. It wasn’t. The rain was coming down hard so we continued. We pondered stopping under the ski lift, but then realized it was entirely metal. So we hiked down in the rain. The good thing was that the brunt of the thunder and lightning was finished. Also, the pension (hotel that includes dinner and breakfast) that Michael had picked out was quite comfortable. After two car camps, this place felt like a palace and the food was excellent. We made plans for the next day. Though it called for more bad weather, we weighed our various hiking options.

(above) Carlos celebrates the good weather

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Michael, Carlos, and I drove out to the Dolomites in Italy on Friday evening arriving at Sella Pass around 10:30pm. We searched for about 10-15 minutes for a place to sleep (much tougher than in the US…and the worse was yet to come) and eventually settled on a small parking lot above a refugio with the dark silhouette of the Sassalungo above us.

(above) Fuenffingerspitzen (center) in morning light. It’s hard to tell the scale from here, isn’t it?

We awoke early the following morning and set out around 6:30 for the refugio at the base of the 18 pitch climb. It would have been nice to take a lift, but we wanted to be on the route before most other and opted to make the hour or so approach. We were the first to begin the climb. Two other parties were close behind but they turned right at the refugio instead of left; they were intent on climbing the Sassalungo, it seemed. The first pitches to gain the ridge were easy, then the real fun began. On the ridge proer, after a short pitch or two, the climbing became classic Dolomite - very steep but with plentiful and solid holds. I hadn’t climbed in nearly ten months and felt a little unsettled. The protection was too sparse for me, so I opted to bring up the rear. Carlos climbed about fifteen feet above me. We had a similar arrangement on Slesse, with me climbing about 15 feet above Aidan whenever I wasn’t leading. Being in the last position was certainly more challenging because the last climber has to set his pace to the climber above him. Eventually, I warmed up and felt comfortable on the climb.

(above) Steep Dolomite climbing on the arete

(above) Carlos is enjoying it.

The first section of the climb, the detached “thumb” towers was the most thrilling. Almost always very steep, but with good holds for hands and feet. There was one tricky move that, in reality, wasn’t hard at all. The key, as usual, was just small and deliberate foot movements. At the summit of the thumb, while trying to find the descent, we got a little off route and were passed by two parties. A jam was developing at the rappels, but we moved efficiently and dropped into the col.

(above) A very fast guided party is behind us.

The second part of the climb began ascending a vertical wall on the index finger for two pitches before traversing left across the face along an ascending ramp. At the same time, on the tower we just came from, two Italian climbers had started to pull their rappel rope when, after the critical end of the rope was out of reach, they realized they had left a knot in the rope! A terrible mistake made very serious since they still had one more rappel. To my shock, the man, who was at least in his 50’s began soloing up the rock to retrieve the rope. He was on tough terrain and had to use a cam to aid his way up the wall. After some tense moments and heavy, nervous panting, he made it…but what a risk! The best would have been to wait for another party to descend, but I suppose there were no more. Watching that ordeal helped to cement the lesson into our heads - always check the rappel rope for knots before pulling it!

(above) The Italians trying to retrieve the rope.  The free climber is in the upper left.  Look closely and you can see the knotted rope dangling on the right.

The rest of the climb has become a bit of a haze for me. After the traverse, we crossed the face on easy terrain (passing a couple of Italian parties along the way) and then upwards towards the niche between the middle and index finger towers. At the niche was a large chockstone wedged above the niche which we had to climb through and then turn left and up the middle finger for one or two pitches to the summit where we ate and took pictures…the usual summit stuff.

(above) Here’s what the first pitch on the index finger looks like, Carlos on the index finger’s ramp which will take you to a traverse across the face.

The descent was a pain. The rappels are very awkward. On at least three, we had to push ourselves in different directions in order to arrive at the proper descent platform. On one rappel, over a very exposed cliff, we had to push at least 15 feet against the direction of the rappel to land on the platform. I pushed at one point but my loose pack got caught or something and I ended up spinning and slipping a bit. I had to call out for my partners to grab the rope and pull me back. It was unnerving and I was now not having a good time on the climb.

(above) Carlos on one of the awkward rappels. He’s traversing the cliff on rappel to get to the right platform on a “fireman’s belay” (where someone below is holding the ends of the rope. Note the chockstone out in no-man’s-land. It’s a long way down out at that point.

We still had a good bit of downclimbing remaining. We had to finish traversing the final fingers. The downclimbing was slow and tedious. Finally, we were above the final rappel leading into the snow gully which would eventually lead us back to the main trail. Again we ran into a common difficulty: we couldn’t tell how far the rappel was and it was apparent that the beta wasn’t accurate. So, we pulled out the 7mm line and took one long double rope rappel to land in the niche. Everyone was nervous on this rappel (it appeared to be awkward and overhanging), but in reality, it was straightforward. Back on “solid ground” again, we prepared to downclimb the snow. It was fairly steep and we were without ice axe or crampons, but they weren’t needed. There were already good steps kicked into the snow and we each picked out a long rock that sort of functioned as an ice axe. Eventually, the angle lessened for comfortable plunge stepping and walking. We then skidded down on scree back under the Fuenffingerspitzen to regain the hiking trail which we followed back to the car. It was about 8:30 pm and now the task before us was finding a place to eat and then sleep.

(above) I managed to take a hero shot of Michael.

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Carlos and I, on Michael’s advice, planned to take the train from Munich to a place called Garmish-P to climb the Alpspitze via a “via ferrata” (a climbing route whch has been converted to a safer route by safety cables and climbing aids like steel ladders). We planned to take the 7:30 AM train, but discovered that unless we waited until 9:30, the prices would be more than double. So we waited. We found a comfortable bagel store (expensive, of course…I was still thinking in terms of China prices). The trip took about an hour and a half, running along lovely green pastures to the base of the mountains. We departed the train and prepared for the ostensible twenty minute hike through town to the cable car. Twenty minutes…it ended up taking over an hour. Already we were set up for a late return. We even had to wait at the cable care station for fifteen minutes (we thought it was one hour and fifteen minutes because the operator had set the “next departure” incorrectly).

(above) The Alpspitze, up close n’ personal.

At the top was the ubiquitous European comfortable lodge, aka “hut” or “refugio”. We readied our harnesses and helmets and headed up the Alpspitze, which was immediately above us. It turned out that we didn’t even need harnesses. It’s quite easy; we didn’t even clip once. The route is simple and took us, oh, I don’t know, around an hour and half.

(l-r) Me approaching the first via ferrata, Carlos on a ladder, Birds looking for handouts

We decided to add a little spice by descending down the back side - a long ridge leading to a headwall. We then dropped down the right side. Flashback to when we were on the summit…a wisp of cloud began forming below us, growing larger quickly. Other clouds appeared around us too. By the time we dropped down the right side, the valley was engulfed in clouds. The left side was still clear. We descended into the pea soup and followed the well-marked route. We traversed cliffs, downclimbed cliffs and ledges covered in scree, sometimes aided by a via ferrata. We dropped much farther than the initial ascent of the peak and popped through the cloud ceiling. We followed a moraine to green meadows where we picked up the rail leading into the valley. Overhead, above the Zugspitze, the clouds were almost black and we expected the cloudburst at any moment. It didn’t come…until we approached the gorge.

(l-r) Gotta drop into the clouds, homes. Carlos on a via ferrata cliffside traverse.

The gorge was the highlight of the trip and the heavy rain enhanced the atmosphere. My jacket felt cold and clammy as we approached the first of many tunnels. The discomfort was negated by the terrain - a very narrow gorge, maybe only 30-40 feet in places with a raging creek below. The rain had created some extra waterfalls, which we had to pass under. Carlos was a fan of the caves and he opted to take the underground route, whereas I preferred to stay outside passing along the cliffside trail above the churning creek. The gorge soon narrowed to a point where there was only space for a tunnel in places. I bashed my head twice before I put on my helmet again.

(above) Shots from the gorge.  See the tunnels?

The gorge took us about thirty minutes to traverse. I remember it being longer than I expected. We arrived at a gate which required us to pay three Euro each to unlock the gate (it was tempting to just climb underneath the gate house). After that, we continued down in the rain and marched the remaining miles to the town of Hammersbach. The rain had then stopped and we were looking at another one-plus hours to hike back to the train station…we were set to arrive back in Munich around midnight now. A friendly couple in a car took pity on us and drove us back. A quick meal at the train station Burger King (no lie!) saw us human again and we boarded the 9:30 train for an arrival in Munich at 11pm.

(above) A view of the surroundings.  The Zugspitze is the large peak in the distance.  We descended the ridge trending from the foreground to the left and then dropped over the right side into the valley.

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I headed off to Germany just after midnight on July 1st on Emirates Airlines connecting through Dubai. Never had flown over that part of the world before or connected anywhere near Dubai. I was curious to check it out. From the air, Dubai is a sprawling yellow/orange desert world of yellow/orange houses and buildings. It was quite hazy and it was hard to see any of the famous skyscrapers from above. I was hoping to see the Burj, the soon-to-be tallest building in the world. I reckon I was on the wrong side of the plane. Bah!

I thought this was pretty funny when I logged on to hotmail in the airport:

(above) You’ve just won a green card!

We skirted the southern and western borders of Iraq before turning east again towards Europe. I got a couple shots from the window of some neat places:

(above) flying over Al Ladhiqiyah, Syria (figured it out from Live Earth), the second shot is Istanbul.

Michael’s directions to get to his house were easy - a couple of trains got we within short walking distance. I was conspicuous, with one large backpack on my back, another smaller one on my front, and hauling a large flat cardboard box (a gift), so it was easy for Kris to spot me walking along Bruderstrasse.

I’m impressed with Munich; it’s a very comfortable city. It feels so small compared to Shenzhen. It’s nicely organized and dense city. It feel like you can bike from one edge of the main part of the city to the other in 15 or 20 minutes. One of the first things we did was head to the English Garden park right near their apartment. There’s a biergarten (beer garden) there which is basically a large open area with tons of picnic tables, several small food vendors, and a playground. Tons of people were out and enjoying the nice weather. At the biergarten, you’re welcome to bring your own food, you just shouldn’t bring your own beer.

(above) Beirgarten environs. The tower is known as the “Chinese Tower”. Check out the big pretzel; they are everywhere!

(above) More fun in the park. The river channels through the park with a really fast current and folks enjoy jumping in and letting the current carry them to the other end (gotta do this). (second photo) Also, did you know that you can surf in Munich?

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I figured I’d make one last feeble attempt at maintaining a little physical fitness before going on vacation by hiking up Nanshan on a very hot and sunny day. It probably wasn’t the wisest choice to hike up in during the hottest part of the day, with only a little bit of water, but I did. The views were clear and I got some nice shots of Shenzhen (with landmark labels below). I paid for the quick hike later with a splitting headache and turned in early.

Here’s a view you never want to see in front of you on the highway. Those big blocks are just waiting to wreak havoc.

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Here are scans of the tourist maps for Huangshan and Huashan. I say, with tongue-in-cheek, that these maps should not be used for navigation purposes - especially the Huangshan one. The “Illusion Scenic Area” is way bigger than it appears on the map and features a descent of a couple of thousand feet down into the valley and an ascent back up the other side, which is not notated. Notice the names of all of the different areas and peaks; they are quite representative of a mystical, ancient, Oriental mountain:

(above) Map of Huangshan. Some of those stairs and walkways were built around 1500 years ago!

The Huashan map is only in Chinese, but still, fun to look at:

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I conducted an interview at work on Friday.  Nice guy, seemed quite competent and driven, yet he appeared overly nervous and did poorly on the technical part of the interview.  I suspect he was better than what he showed me.  I’ve given so many interviews that they’re second nature to me now, and I usually assume that people’s nervousness is due to typical interview anticipation.  However, after we finished, our HR representative came to me with a serious look on her face and told me with an even, soft tone, “The candidate admitted to me that he was very nervous talking to you because you are the first foreigner he’s talked to or had an interview with.”

My Chinese teacher told me a similar story recently.  She recounted to me her story of finishing her masters degere and getting out of college, moving to Shenzhen, getting a job as a Chinese teacher, then going on her first lesson to my apartment totally nervous, not knowing what to expect from a wild-eyed barbarian from the West.

It would be rare to run into these situations in the US, but it just goes to show the lingering effects of China shutting itself off from the world for so long.  That’s got to be one of the root causes that makes living and working in China so fascinating.

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