Dolomites, Summer 2011 - by Simon
Stone Age People on Tofana Di Mezzo – 20th July 2011
After the by now familiar drive over the endless hairpins of Falzarego Pass, followed by a twisty minor road which turned to dirt, we arrived at the Rifugio Dibona huddled under the towering golden walls of the Tofana group on a cool sunny morning. Our plan (that is Denise and I) was to take the series of Via Ferratas culminating in the highest of the Tofana Group, Tofana Di Mezzo – at 3,244 metres the third highest Dolomite peak.
Already the car park was quite full, so we quickly got ready and strode off along the path which leads up to Rif Pomedes. No sooner had we left the car park, when a huge group of people set off after us. I guessed they were heading for the same objective, and really didn’t want to get stuck behind them on the route – I could envisage I nightmare wait given it’s grade of 5C – the highest via ferrata grade.
Fortunately the large party stopped for a breather near Rif Pomedes, and we overtook several other parties too, arriving at the start of the cables by about 9 am. The first part of the route climbed up the east-face of Punta Anna, at 2,731 metres the lowest of a procession of steadily higher tops leading to the main summit itself. We started the climbing in the sun, ascending a series of ribs and slabs until after an airy traverse left we joined the main south ridge of the peak. A cold wind streamed cloud across the ridge, and the rock was cool to the touch. Despite this, the climbing was superb – mostly on fine juggy holds, with the occasional more delicate section. There were only a few short sections where a pull on the cable was unavoidable.
On and on the climbing went, until finally the ridge levelled out to a narrow crest and we arrived at the summit of Punta Anna. We pushed on almost immediately as there was a long way to go and ahead the imposing grey bastion of the next top loomed into the swirling mist. A big slabby gangway cut diagonally rightwards on the bastion, providing some delicate moves on more compact rock until suddenly an airy but easy traverse right took us round a corner to join a scree path, which in one direction descends (via another section of cables) back to Rif Pomedes. This was the first of two possible escape routes, but as the mist had cleared and the weather was looking more promising, we pushed on up.
We soon joined another level section of ridge, interrupted by a short overhanging step, up which had been placed a useful ladder. Soon after, a much larger step was avoided by a traverse of shattered ledges on the shady west flank of the ridge, bringing us to a steep-sided and loose gash in the ridge. A piece of old rope strung across the scree saddle was not an awful lot of use. The section of wire leading out of the gash ran straight up a steep cheesy looking wall, providing strenuous moves despite the cable.
So far, we had been keeping up with a German group – they tended to go faster than us on the easier sections but slower on the steeper bits, so we had a short wait while they climbed the steep wall. However, above this the route split and they all took a short diversion to an optional top while we took the main way on, traversing a narrow ledge on the east flank.
The cable re-appeared at foot level on the ledge, which seemed odd – why didn’t they put it on the wall so you could keep your feet on the ledge ? I lowered myself down so I could clip into the cable and found myself semi-dangling above an impending wall dropping 100 feet or so onto snowfields. After turning an arête the reason for the cable routing became more obvious – the ledge disappeared and you had to cross both walls of a very steep corner – all quite spectacular. Thankfully for the arms, the ledge shortly re-appeared and led around to the major col of the Bus De Tofana.
If the route had a distinct ambience up to this point, it was ratcheted up a notch by the presence of several snowfields draped between rock bands on the east flank of the ridge, and it was up these the route ascended. They were a little more extensive than I’d imagined they would be, and as we’d not bought along axe or crampons, a sudden sense of doubt descended. The mist swirled in again, and we now also found ourselves in front on the route, with no fresh footprints to follow. There was another escape at this point, down a scree gully on the west flank (in fact the usual descent route), but it seemed a shame to be defeated at this point.
But needs must – we were surrounded by shards of limestone, so ignoring many millennia of human development we selected some suitably sharp specimens and advanced towards the snowfields. As luck would have it, despite the low air temperature it was possible to kick into old melted-in bucket steps. In fact the angle wasn’t as steep as it looked, so our rudimentary snow daggers were not really required for progress, and there was another strange form of protection too – in the twisted metallic shape of several avalanche fences built to protect the ski runs lower down on the Cortina side. Admittedly this ‘protection’ was in the form of them providing something to land on in the event of a slip, and it appeared they had already done their fair share of fielding falling snow and rock..
And so we wended up the snowfields and through the fences until cables and comforting rock re-appeared. We came to some steep dripping walls, with a couple of runs of ladders – the last of the main fixed aids – allowing their ascent. The very last cable above the final ladder was worryingly frayed, and down to a couple of strands. We exited onto a broad ridge composed of scree ledges and short rock walls. There was still some 150 metres of climbing to the top. On occasion the mist would partially clear allowing views of spectacular strata snaking across the west face far below.
The summit was a bit of an anticlimax. We emerged onto a path with a handrail which leads up from the cable car station, lying about 50 metres down the north ridge. Fortunately the poor visibility had kept most of the tourists away, so we had the summit almost to ourselves. Oddly, the Via Ferrata guidebook suggested using the cable car as a descent, but it seemed to me this would be a poor an unsporting way to finish a tremendous mountain route (apart from which it didn’t lead back to the start !), so after a quick stop, we started to retrace our steps back to the Bus De Tofana col.
At the col, counter-intuitively, the descent route dropped down the east flank even though we wanted to be on the west, but the reason soon became clear – there was a massive rock arch piercing the ridge which you could cross through onto the start of the massive scree gully dropping into the Vallon De Tofana, and thus neatly avoid a steep rock wall. The upper part of the gully was steep, and a sketchy path crabbed down it, but lower down the angle relented and the scree became just the right size for a bounding scree-run down to the zig-zagging tracks back to the car and the prospect of several mugs of tea. The next day it snowed.
