Path of Gods

Monte Croce, in spring, is mostly made up of green slopes. Its gentle, continuous forms are covered in young grass, creating an open and bright landscape that naturally guides the eye towards Garfagnana. The wide and never aggressive ridge becomes a soft line to walk and stop on, rather than a summit to conquer. It is a mountain that invites slowness, where the vast exposure and spring light transform the terrain into a large space for breathing.

Spring here means one thing: the blooming of daffodils. That's why I set off with three companions, with the idea of reaching the summit of Croce and spending the night at altitude, waiting for dawn. From up there, the view opens impressively onto the Panie Group, while Croce offers a perfect foreground, made of grassy ridges and clean lines. To get the shot I had in mind, however, I knew it would be necessary to accept weather conditions far from ideal for an excursion.

Once at the summit, we decided to pitch the tents in a slightly inclined clearing, trying not to ruin the blooming. The slopes of Croce have a constant and never excessive incline, a characteristic that makes it relatively easy to find suitable spots for bivouacking, even if not always comfortable. As the light faded, we lit the stoves and prepared something to eat, but soon the first drops of rain began to fall, accompanied by a constantly increasing wind.

The situation quickly worsened. One of the tents collapsed, water began to enter one of our companions' sleeping bags, and we were forced to break camp. We began the descent in intense rain and a persistent wind, fortunately for a short stretch, until we reached the car, where we would spend the night.

In the morning, the sky was still gray. Dawn had passed several minutes ago, but I saw a glimmer of light making its way through the clouds. I grabbed my equipment and started climbing again, running, as I rarely had before. Through a small shortcut, I emerged onto the ridge of Croce, not far from where we had pitched the tents the night before. Visibility was still limited, but the foreground was perfectly clear. The clouds danced around me and the surrounding peaks, opening and closing the landscape in a few moments.

I took a first photograph and continued climbing until I reached the ridge that leads directly to the summit. It is here that Monte Croce perhaps reveals its most fascinating detail: the ridge appeared ethereal, infinite, and severe, completely different from how it normally appears. At that moment, it seemed to open a threshold to infinity.
Shortly after, the magic dissolved. The clouds covered everything again, and during the descent, the first new drops of rain arrived. Path of Gods was born from that fragile, brief, and unrepeatable interval.