Falzarego Pass Climbing

Published on 2018-9-20 by Michael Stanton

The Dibona Route, Grosser Falzaregoturm, 10 pitches, V+

We decided to climb the "Dibona Route" on the Grosser Falzaregoturm. At 10 pitches it was of a good medium length to test our efficiency, and the difficultly was limited to V+, and that at a single move that could be aided if needed. We took a small rack of gear and slings, and my trusty 50 meter green single rope.

These days in the Dolomites I see many victims of the fashionable 70 meter rope. Maybe once a day do they get to pay out the half of it! These mountains are not made for combining pitches, and most are between 25 and 40 meters anyway, so you can really save yourself some trouble by keeping the rope short.

The Falzarego Towers

After a good breakfast we hiked up, Silas scoping out the rough sleeping opportunities and finding them to be very good. By the end of the day he had a whole scenario planned out, in which a renaissance life of sharing stories, songs and food would occur each night at the strategic parking lots where lovingly outfitted camper vans hold the People of the Rock, young and old.

He's not wrong...that world is there, and it's his world!

His view showed me how much climbing has become a wonderful compartment of life which I open from time to time...but I no longer live in it. What this means is that people, and the art of enjoying them, has dropped out of my relationship with the rocks. It's quite a solitary one now...though I like it. I'd rather drop into silence amid the towers...staying as long as possible, then stealing away to a cave where money buys the fullest possible recovery, then returning directly to the cliff. If people are there, wonderful. If not, also good.

I've lost something, but I think, maybe, gained something too. These things are like music...there are many kinds of songs, and they are all beautiful. Hanging out with Silas slowly thawed the shell around me. He creates community everywhere he goes, and by garn, that's a good thing!

Maybe some part of my "shell" comes from the crowds you sometimes get on climbs here. They don't bother me anymore, but poor Silas was stressed out imagining that he might slow somebody down. I just think, "well, people can pass me on the route if need be." If they are going to be irritated, it's not worth me ruining my day by worrying about the thoughts in their heads.

Climbing on pitch two (IV)

Silas both worried more about the climbers around him, and uncovered their actual good intentions and invariably easy-going attitudes. A nice older Italian couple followed us up the route at some remove, but finally caught us. We had to tell them three times to go ahead of us before the very kind fellow would do it.

I can't count how many times Americans have told me how much the crowds (which sometimes climb over you) bother them, and kind of take the shine off of Alps climbing. Also, the insistence on respecting a rigid protocol about asking to pass and the right of refusal creates a lot of pain. My response to all that has been that, well, I live here, and don't have some other "climbing home" to go to, and I must enjoy my days, therefore, adjustment is required. It took these forms:

• Pass parties without asking permission, though respecting the natural bottlenecks of the route and being patient until the route allows passing.
• Friendly and smiling to all people. If a party passes me, then well, mostly, I admire their efficiency. It's always something I can aspire to (and I do).
• If someone climbs with their nose in my butt, that's their problem. Aside from the usual care to avoid letting stones fall, I don't have special responsibility for them.
• And so on...

The truth is, with so many people who climb, coming from so many different places, there is no hope to hold a Victorian-era standard of expected behavior -- you will be disappointed over and over. It's unreasonable to let (or to be) a slow, nearly-incompetent party hold up traffic, especially when afternoon thunderstorms may roll through.

Anyway, sorry for the digression, back to the story!

We started up, Silas worried about the idea that he was too slow. He manifestly was not! Pitch two began with a traverse around a corner, then up a nice grade IV face, then a scramble to a belay where the guides-in-training above us had built a gear anchor, now being tested by their instructors. We were satisfied with the two pitons in place. The next pitch climbed a grade IV corner, then the party of guides and instructors let Silas and I pass by. Here, Silas discovered that the guides knew his friend (Marta?), and I was reminded what a small (and wonderful) world climbing can be. Pitch four was just a grassy, scrambling connector to a face above.

The grade IV face went quickly, and I belayed Silas up to a belay on a corner where a steep grassy ramp led across the face to an emergency exit at the notch between the two Falzarego towers. Very clever, and good to know about!

Silas on the magnificent pitch six

Again.

The right side of the corner held our route, a wonderful 30 meter, sustained grade V- face. Silas sent me off and I really enjoyed it. I protected with slings around several Sanduhr formations, the occasional piton or Camelot. Wow, that rocked!

Silas liked the pitch too, though he admitted he didn't like traverses, and gosh, we had one in front of us now: 15 meters hard to the left with moves of V- climbing on slabby hand and foot-holds. "Sew it up!" Silas said.

The traversing pitch seven (V-)

It's bark was worse than it's bite...though the exposure was gorgeous. I clipped a piton, slung a Sanduhr, and made a creative nut placement to reach the piton belay. Come on across, Silas!

As he did so, an aggressive fellow with a shaven head climbed (irresponsibly, we thought) up across two ropes and right under Silas' potential fall line. That was deeply nerve-wracking, and I urged Silas not to worry about it. Happily, the bald man became for the rest of our trip an example of a type of person who fucks things up. "Bald-headed climbers" are the worst kinds!

On the next pitch I made a mistake, stopping and making a gear belay at the site of a fixed cam on the left side of a Schuppe ("what's a Schuppe?" Silas kept asking, and I explained to the best of my ability but I never convincingly defined it. "Kind of like a flake, but it doesn't look quite so detached," was one of my lame definitions). At this point Silas came up with the kind older Italian man on his heels. I'd worked out by then that I was at the wrong place. Silas offered to lead a short pitch to reach the belay proper. He did this, then belayed me up to a snug belay at the base of two runnels, with a stellar yellow chimney/crack marking the way above.

We decided to eat a sandwich and hang out, letting two parties pass by. Everyone joked and chatted amiably. The Kufstein couple happened to know a friend of Silas, Markus Stadler. I was impressed too, having discovered Markus' web site years ago and admired his treatment of routes in the Wilder Kaiser. As I may have said before: Silas knows everybody!

At the belay for pitch nine

The two parties made short work of the chimney with much stemming and interesting moves. Silas sent me up and I loved it. I did a wild lieback move at one point low in the chimney which made things easier. The upper half of the pitch had no protection, and it was pretty intimidating coming up on the Kufstein girl dangling her legs off the yellow pillar and wondering how in the hell I would reach her perch. You climb a steep face that begins to overhand, however at that moment you can press your back against the pillar wall and inch up with a few more moves to reach the anchors. Wow. Soon I too was dangling my legs in a carefree manner.

An incredible crack...

Perched below the tenth pitch

Silas approaches the outrageous belay

Silas came up, finding the pitch scary, and somewhat damaging to an old shoulder injury. He ended up using that pain creatively, learning to push at least as much as he pulled on every subsequent route. Though it was clear the effort cost something -- I admired how he pushed through, and really have a role model that will help me immeasurably in about 30 years!

"Old people suck!" he'd shout out, when weakness temporarily got the better of him. The best reply to that was to reaffirm it even louder: "OLD PEOPLE SUCK!" I'd say, which always got a laugh.

He'd lead a short pitch and I'd quote from Dumb & Dumber: "Hmm, the elderly, while slow and dangerous behind the wheel, can still serve a purpose!"

"Fuck you!" I'd hear. So we figured out how to have fun.

The last pitch began with spicy moves stepping off the pointy pillar (V+), though it's very fine. Silas threatened to "French Free" the moves but I always encouraged him to try it -- every time he did dedicate a minute or two he would get it clean! But I think on this one the "old skool" alpinist mentality won out. "Too old for this shit...!" Heh...

We walked a few steps to the summit and hung out a while. We had a gorgeous view across the valley to the Cinque Torre, and Tofana loomed very impressively on our left.

Topping out

Happy to stand on the Grosser Falzaregoturm

Silas on top

Getting down was interesting. There is a rather seedy-looking abseil anchor, but I remembered from when Barbara and I were here in 2016 that we successfully scrambled down the whole thing, followed a way marked with red paint that begins to the side of the abseil route. Silas and I used this approach with success, though he was blown away by the massive vertical exposure. Still, had to admit...the holds are solid, deep and chunky. Not a problem to scramble down this way...

I had an idea to cram in another 4 pitches on the side of the Kleine Falzaregoturm, but Silas vetoed that, wisely -- this way we'd have energy for Friday. We scrambled down, running into the guides-in-training again.

Walking down...

Not bad for our first climb...

Friends of friends!

Stone Cold Bruthas

Down to dinner in Cortina at La Perla, which had great pizza. Silas went to see a slideshow about Tito Piaz, the "Devil of the Dolomites," but I made him leave it a bit early because I was too damn tired. I'd bought some long slings I needed, and a cheap sleeping bag because we might sleep out Friday night. Back to the hotel to goggle at our incredible pictures and try to choose a route for the next day...

Kleiner Lagazoui, Westwand, "Trapez," IV+, 6 pitches

We'd thought about doing a very big route, but decided to take it easier, making a combination day of a route on the Lagazoui, then repairing to the Cinque Torri for something else.

We hiked up from the parking area across the street from the war museum, easily finding the cliff, but having to spend a few minutes thinking about where the route started exactly. Silas spotted an anchor above which was ours. The climbing wasn't very distinctive until the middle of the third pitch, when a steeper face covered in Sanduhr and deep holds woke me up in a pleasant way. The next pitch was even better, offering a sense of freedom and delight with the good protection and moderate difficulty. Pitch five (IV) was also okay, but now the wall began to angle back and the difficulties receded. Silas took the last pitch, placing a cam in a nice III+ crack with good hand and foot jams. Well, that was a good route to do once! It didn't have enough challenge to make it worthwhile to repeat, unfortunately. However, life is long!

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We walked over to the abseil station which is very exposed. A 25 meter abseil, partially free-hanging woke us up pretty nicely! I had to climb up a bit to retrieve a stuck rope, but not a big deal. Soon we were hiking down. I got my pack at the base, then went down to the car to hear Silas chatting with a British couple in a cheap but well-serviced van. Now, we drove down then up a steep and winding road to the Cinque Torri.

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Torre Barancio, "Dibona," IV+, 5 pitches

The Cinque Torre

We hiked up rather tiredly, then had a good time waiting with some dogs at the base while their Spanish owners climbed up the route. One dog, a Golden retriever, was so upset at the idea of me climbing, that he whined a lot and came and sat with his body touching mine at all times. Poor fella!

Ending the crack pitch

The verticality is hard to describe

But really, this climb is so good, I had to leave the poor fella behind. Silas raved about every pitch, especially the first two, which are steep and sustained. This is "5.6 YDS" climbing at it's best possible incarnation -- small, slippery ledges, complete verticality, runout but adequate protection. The third pitch was an easy connector, and the fourth was easier (IV-) but long. A steep bouldering move marked the last pitch (IV), then we were on top.

The two 25-meter abseils felt very committing...we couldn't tell if the ropes touched down...they did with stretch but it was pretty exact. I had a scary moment when entering a free-hanging section and my belay device caught on the rock, then released with a POP!

"I would have shat my panties, Mike," said Silas, apparently unaware that I'd done precisely that. Whew!

We got down, then sped down the road for a good dinner in Cortina. With a poor weather forecast for Saturday, we decided to go ahead and make the drive to Arco. Working as a team, we navigated north, east, then south to get there in under three hours, and make it into Silas' favorite hotel (he compares it to the Grand Budapest) just before they closed for the night at 11:00.

We were in position for more climbing...

Silas and his ancient tie-in carabiner

I've climbed each of these

Our route on Torre Barancio