WC Follies

July 30, 2012
At the Rifugio Franchetti high in the Gran Sasso mountains. Have finally gotten up here with the Bear Man, although not as high as we had hoped. The way up to the highest peak in these here hills, the Corno Grande, at nearly 3,000 meters, was not clearly signed. So, we got only part way to the summit. Greg further than me. I chickened out when I saw the trail narrow down to a tightrope of adjoining stones with a sheer drop-off on one side and a vertical wall on the other.
Interesting rifugio. Much different than the ones we stayed at in the Dolomites. Sleeping is entirely dormitory-style, with low rows of bunk space, like a ship's quarters. 11 people to a room. 4 mattresses side-by-side on the upper bunk platform, and 4 on the bottom. One single bed and one two-tiered single bunk. Greg and I had to sleep in the upper bunk, cheek-to-cheek with other hikers. I made Greg sleep so I was between him and the wall. I didn't want to sleep next to a stranger again. Last time I did that my purse was stolen. Greg, as it turned out, was stuffed between me and a very attractive blonde. So much for my comfort level.
But the best part of the night was figuring out the logistics for my nightly bathroom run. See, the only "indoor" facilities are a "WC"- essentially an outhouse perched on top of a precipice. To reach it, you much wend your way down a rocky, uneven, scree-laden path that runs beside a sheer drop. Not exactly the most secure way to take a midnight pee. I needed a plan. One that did not require going all the way down the path in the dark guided only by a narrow headlamp beam, stumbling with sleepiness, and slipping in oversized crocs. Especially not after consuming 1/2 a liter of wine at dinner. So the pee plan evolved. During my last "WC" visit before turning in, I squirreled away several sheets of toilet paper in the pocket of my nightshirt. Then, I identified the most wind-less spot [oh - did I mention that the wind was so strong they had to close down the cable car leading from the valley to the trail up here? Plenty of breeze to blow a 125-pound hiker off a mountain.] So, wobbling toward the lee side of the building was essential. Once in my safe place, I could simple hunker down and...let go. When awakened in the dark several hours after hatching the plan -- it worked! No one saw me or heard me or found me 1,000 feet down the mountain or at the bottom of the stairs [oh - did I mention the stairway down from the bunk rooms is 1 foot wide, nearly vertical, with only a loose rope for a handrail?] Anyway, the whole process was completed before I even had a chance to become fully conscious. I fell right back to sleep, assured of a safe night's rest. The blonde notwithstanding. Then - nature called me awake again. To a more involved necessity. One that absolutely required a trip to the ill-positioned "WC". "NOT GOING!" my mind shouted to my body. "NOT GOING! NOT GOING! GO BACK TO SLEEP!".

The Indoor Facilities (with panoramic view in background)

An hour later, I squeezed out of the bunk. I slipped on a fleece top [oh- did I mention the temperature drops to about 38 degrees at night?], pulled on crocs and a headlamp. I felt my way down the pitch dark stairs without a light so as not to awaken other hikers, navigated through the dining room without shearing a shin on a table leg, and pushed open the front door against the howling wind. Trembling, picking my way along the front of the building within the headlamp's narrow beam, I inched towards the path. I turned the corner around the side of the building, and was startled by the most spectacular sunrise I have ever seen. The sky extended endlessly in glowing pink, gold, and dark blue bands above a vast, sparkling plain that stretched all the way to the Adriatic. The sea itself glowed silvery blue in the soft new light. I stopped and gaped at this unexpected gift. I stood for several minutes, oblivious to any real or perceived danger or to the chill wind shipping at bare legs under my nightshirt. In time, I was able to tear myself from this marvel and continue the outhouse journey. Now the precipice was less foreboding. Its sheer, terrible height had afforded me the opportunity to enjoy the world as I had never seen it. It turned fear inside-out into beauty.

The Drop (with this toilette, there really are consequences if you miss)

Greg in relation to the "facilities"

We've decided to approach the Corno Grande again. From a different side. Perhaps the next attempt will turn disappointment from the failed first attempt into wonder. Perhaps mountain jitters will transform into the same kind of treasure. If not on Corno Grande, on the summit of some other physical of psychological terror.