Conquering Mount Grappa

Last weekend I climbed Mount Grappa with a group of friends, early in the morning. We left the campus at 8 AM to embark on our journey to new heights.

The weather that day was perfect; 75 degrees (Fahrenheit, of course), blue skies and a cool breeze. We could not have had better hiking weather.

We passed through the neighboring town of Crespano to find the start of the trail. Along the way are very old houses and flat, green fields that emphasized the towering mountain range behind them. Crespano is a town true to the Italian style; dozens of statues amid multi-colored houses with flower boxes in the windowsill and wooden shutters laying flat against the exterior. There is a gigantic marble church in the center of town, and a gelato shop across the parking lot. In town that morning was a street market featuring stations stocked with fruits and vegetables and all kinds of seafood, fresh and ready to be sold. We stopped into a restaurant in the center of town to have some breakfast, and the man behind the counter spoke English. Before we left I asked the man where the restroom was, and he said that he did not know what a restroom is. I asked "Dov'e il bango?" (where is the bathroom?") and he said 'Ah, the bathroom! Back of the restaurant on the right." I was surprised that he called it a bathroom rather than a restroom. Hmm.

The restaurant had very nice antiques in its anterior, and I remarked to one of my hiking mates that the United States has to buy art for its restaurants, while Italy has centuries of historic pieces that are just considered commonplace to Italians, but to the Americans they are amazing testaments to the human imagination. Italy says "Oh, this old thing? I forgot I even had it, it's been ages!"

We continued on down a dirt road, past open fields and an orchard, pronounced by the rows of green trees and a horse in the distance. It seemed that the horse had acres in which to roam free, the way nature intended.

Further up the road was a bee keeper's yard with a row of honeycomb boxes of all different colors side by side.

We reached a trattoria and pizzeria with an adjacent gravel field designated a parking lot, and asked directions from some Italian bikers in authentic bike suits riding Lance Armstrong-esque bikes. How they could bike up such a steep, unforgiving hill I haven't the foggiest; my entire group was huffing and puffing and sweating long before that point. The bikers said that the base of the mountain, marked by a huge Catholic church about two kilometers away, so we resumed our uphill climb, eager to stand atop the mountain, triumphant and proud.

When at last we approached the church, which is wedged inside a mountain valley and standing at the end of the road with a gigantic steel cross in the front symbolizing the eternal omnipresence of God. A basin, carved in rock and spouting fresh mountain water, provided relief while we took a moment to rest and recollect before beginning the ascent.

The trail to the top of the mountain was anything but broken-in, and anything but easy. We had even been told that rattlesnakes lived along its trail. Endless zigs and zags of shoulder-length trail edges demanded constant balance and solid footing. Groups of European hikers shared the trail with us, kindly yielding as we tromped by. We were symbols of American pride and determination. I felt honored to be an American hiker on international ground, displaying my strength of will to all around me. An hour or so of constant zig-zagging took us to a lookout point, a flat hilltop about halfway to the summit. From the vantage point one could see Paderno Del Grappa and its neighboring cities, which from such an elevation looked like tiny forest clearings beneath the massive, rolling hills of Mount Grappa and the Dolomites. It was a cloudy in the distance that morning, so we could not see Venice, but it is said that on a clear day one can. We were proud to look down upon our progress, the nature we had conquered, and up at the challenge we still had before us.

We pressed onward and upward once again, energized by the idea of conquering nature and looking down on creation. The trail went from narrow and zaggy to wide, steep and rocky with trees and shrubs lining the steep hills that offered no sympathy. The air became thinner and I began to burn out, where previously I had driven forward with determination and excitement. I began to curse the mountain, whose twists and turns seemed never to end, though through the trees I could see brilliant sunshine, the beautiful reward at the end of my quest. I began to despise the mountain, its trails giving me nothing in return for my efforts. Several personal pit stops along the trail allowed me to regroup mentally and press on. I refused to fall behind my team. "I WILL get to the top of this mountain," I thought, focusing on the splendor of reaching the top and being able to say that I had defeated the great Mount Grappa.

After many more pit stops I came to a clearing, the top of a ridge where there were no more trees, but rather stony ground and hilly curves. I could see the top of the mountain, and I sang a song of joy and pushed on, within 100 yards of standing atop Mount Grappa. This song of joy was internal though, because on the outside I was tired, sweaty, and sick of hiking. When I joined my other teammates who had run ahead (one group stayed back to take their time, the other wanted to run up the mountain) at the top of the mountain I laid down spread-eagle on my back, happy to be able to rest and to say that I had conquered Mount Grappa. Once all of us were at the top, we broke out the Persecco (because young people these days feel that doing something physical and difficult calls for a wine reward) and took pictures, documenting our accomplishments.

The way back down was, as you can imagine, much easier than the climb to the top. A few of my team mates sprinted down the mountain, happy as clams to be done with the hike that seemed to never end. We strode joyfully down the mountain and headed to the gelateria, happy to be able to be off of our feet and proud that we, the few, the proud, the adventurous, had climbed Mount Grappa.