( or Drystone Walling and the Dolomites )

Beneath The Mountain

Day 11. 31 July 2006

Saturday. Slept well until about eight-thirty although I was disturbed sometime in the middle of the night. Woken suddenly by what I imagine at first were several intruders in my room, rifling trough my bags and muttering to one another, I sat bolt upright, and found the light. The one nocturnal visitor was John, disorientated and sleep walking. He muttered something that I did not catch, and left. I went back to sleep, and did not even, I think, hear the seven o’clock bells.

After a leisurely breakfast, we take the cobbled path down to Lamasano main square and meet the Italian girls, and Janet and Desirée; and Loris even turns up, a little worse for wear after last night, but sporting a Scotland T-shirt. We take to a variety of vehicles; Kate, Sarah-Jane and myself in Desirée’s car.

We drive up the hill behind Lamasano nursery school, and through the tiny village of Funés, perched right on the edge of a huge scar in the landscape with Pédol similarily placed on the other side. Taking increasingly tiny, twisting roads and close to the mountain hut at C. va Crosetta we park up, a collection of four cars, by a set of double, steel doors in the mountain wedged closed with a plank of wood and moderately sized rock. The tunnel into the mountain…

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