Wolf Like Me

I woke before the crack of dawn on a sleepy Sunday. Getting dressed in the dark, I piled layer upon layer of weather-proof clothing. My warm furr for the day made me look like a Patagonia/UnderArmor commercial. I had packed a backpack the night before with all the necessities...I felt ready to climb Mt. Everest with Krakauer. Fleece headband, hat, gloves, snow pants, vest, parka, slicker, high socks, snow boots, bubble wrap for sitting in the snow, a lunch of prosciutto panini, an orange, and chocolate (all KEY staples in my italian cuisine), a waterbottle, sunglasses, chapstick, camera, phone, and of course...SNOW SHOES. The word for snowshoes here is "le ciaspole," so a snowshoeing journey would be called "ciaspolata." My host parents are extremely involved in hiking, skiing, and other outdoor activities. My host dad, Marco, is an alpine ski instructor and acts as a guide/rescuer for these types of excursions. They have invited me to join them on all their various adventures. Needless to say, I was more than ready for a ciaspolata!

I doze off and drown in tunes as we drive through endless mountain roads. With innumerable switchbacks, we climb and climb in our little European car for about an hour. Interestingly enough, the region we end up in is still considered part of Parma. I found the small, very rural mountain villages extremely quaint. Painted in bright colors, the weathered houses found a perfect backdrop buried in the deep greens and browns of the rolling mountain terrain. 

After driving up Monte Nero (part of the Appenine Mountains in Northern Italy, named for the black bark on the innumerable trees that freckle the steep slopes) we reached an altitude where snow surrounded us. Then, we geared up. The snow shoes are a tad clumsy at first, but you get used to it. They are wider plastic and have small spikes on the bottom which help with traction in deep snow. You have to make sure your boots fit in tight, and you are given two poles for walking. It's essentially like skiing, but backwards. You have to climb UP the mountain. It's a hike in the snow. Considering I LOVE snow and really enjoy hiking, it was a perfect way to slowly observe the nature that surrounded us. 

The woods were "lovely, dark, and deep." As we climbed higher and higher, there was fog all around us so we literally were dispersed in a cloud of white. 

I felt as though I emerged from the Wardrobe into Narnia to meet the Lion and the Witch. At flat points, when fog and snow surrounded me and shrouded everyone else from my vision, it was as though I was entirely alone in the tundra. A single speck in a cold universe. 

At difficult points, when I felt cold or tired from the steep hills, I simply sang this to myself and knew that I would be rescued if anything happened. My host mom, Paola, wished the sun had come out for our journey. She said that this weather on the mountain, with SO much fog, snow, and hail, was called "tempo di lupi," or the "Weather of the Wolves." A wolf, with its fur and keen eye would be able to navigate this weather perfectly, and stay warm. Our trail lead us over bubbling streams and around dark frozen branches. It was marked with white and red paint stripes on trees, they refer to these pistes all over N. Italy as "bianco rosso." When we came to a frozen body of water covered in deep snow called Lago Nero (Black Lake), we saw a lonesome, wet dog who calls these mountains home. 

I learned how to rescue someone from an avalanche and other important mountain safety tips for snowshoeing. We made our descent after a picnic lunch and I felt so gratified and exhausted by the end of the day. The savory steaming broth, homemade pasta, famous Parmigiano cheese with bread, wine, and conversation at dinner back home warmed my weathered body and soul after a long day spent getting lost in the beauty of the Italian woods.