Laghi Gemelli
Yesterday's hike left me with slightly sore legs, which is usual, and prickly eyes because it was a sunny windy day. I went up to the Laghi Gemelli hut from Roncobello, a couple of hours' hike, and like last week, I did it by myself because the friends I met on Friday night were not too keen to join me.
I was all right save one mistake I could have avoided had I been in the company of a friend. In order to walk more comfortably I kept my trainers on, neglecting the possibile presence of snow, which on the contrary started to appear in large patches just over the pass. It was trodden, at least, so there was little risk of sinking, but it made a slippery surface to walk on in treadless shoes, which, additionally, got quite wet because they were not waterproof.
When I got to the cross at the pass I spotted another hiker wearing low shoes and commented to him that we'd made the wrong choice for the day. I can say to my advantage that I felt so much comfortable not walking in stiff boots.
If people were shocked and outraged at seeing the euphoric merriment in some cities of the Arab world when the news of the Twin towers attack became known, I was no less shocked and outraged at seeing the same behaviour among US citizens now that the wicked mastermind has been reported killed. Rejoicing in a man’s death is barbarian, and it is no excuse to say the executed person was the deadliest criminal.
Last Sunday I climbed up to Rifugio Coca. My hiking companions were busy with other things over the weekend, but I was undeterred and set out by myself. I had even thought of leaving on Saturday and sleeping at the hut at nearly 1900 m, but when I rang them up they said that, although the path from the valley is now clear, from the hut upwards there is still snow and you need rackets to move about. Not having a pair, I decided on the day trip.
37 years is certainly a long time, but it sounded more like eternity in the circumstances in which I heard this timespan mentioned.
I’m not a fan of eating out and usually prefer shopping for my groceries and cooking the food I eat. Maybe this is why I've taken a real pleasure in cooking lately, launching into enjoyable concocting sprees with mostly excellent results, at least to my palate! In the wake of this enthusing experience, as Easter day approached, I wondered whether I should make a particularly elaborate cake called Pastiera napoletana. I’d already given birth to this creature two years ago with encouraging results, but in my memory the preparation was quite lengthy and I dreaded getting down to work again. However the ayes within myself prevailed and on Good Friday I went out in search of what I needed.