Mauri, one of my expedition partners, plants both trekking poles ahead of him before dragging his left leg forward. The movement is awkward, but it’s the only way to keep moving. Around us, towering limestone walls funnel into a broad couloir that climbs towards a high saddle.
By the third and final day of our journey, none of us has much left to give. Sleep has been scarce, knees are swollen, and every incline feels steeper than it should. As we stop to catch our breath, I turn instinctively towards the horizon. Across the valleys, glowing in the first light of day, sits Marmolada.
