Sass Pordoi from the trail to Sella... feeling small, old, and stubborn while those ahead of you insist on speaking to you in Ladin from Gardena and you keep nodding yes, all the while the harness is digging into what little remains of your scrotal sack and your friends are in Canazei in front of prosecco and a platter of cured meats and cheeses.
But last year, around this time, I was really, really worse off and no, I wasn’t breathing this, oxygen, but that of Air Liquide...

I Crodaioli - Signore delle cime