Two week refuge at Roccoli

The arrival of the Italian military to Roccoli proved my theory incorrect – Italians do get drunk.

After six weeks work free, which included two weeks of pure indulgence in Sardegna, I knew I was due for some hard labour. So in keeping to a promise made whilst still in Australia, I called my cousin Giuli offering to work at the rifugo her family runs, after all, I had two weeks up my sleeve before Paris – so why not get them dirty!

Rifugo Roccoli Lorla sits at 1463m above sea level, and is the last major rifugo before Monte Legnone. There you’ll find a bar, restaurant, and basic accommodation. At 2609m, Legnone is the highest peak overlooking Lago di Como. In 2005, I had attempted the climb with my dad and sister, but poor weather forced us to return. In 2007, my dad and mum reached the top, so I knew one of my missions whilst in Italy and in particular whilst at Roccoli was to make the climb.

When I first arrived at Roccoli I was shocked to find the entire south reserve taken over by the Italian military. They had made camp just a few hours before, all 300 of them.

“Gulp!” I gulped.

I had reached camouflage tent city and it was pumped full of Italian testosterone.

Of course I had to be the token ‘Australiana’ at Camp Roccoli. Whilst some women may flaunt their femininity in such circumstances, I was trembling in my ugbooties. Perhaps it was because my lack of Italian meant I couldn’t retaliate with witty humour after receiving not-so-decent remarks, maybe it was because I’m a pacifist at heart and think army green should be worn when making a fashion statement, or maybe it was because they were always so god damn blind-drunk!

“Mio dio, sempre chook, SEMPRE CHOOK!!!”

Italians do get drunk and the Italian military get very drunk. So drunk in fact, Roccoli ran out of liquor and an emergency trip to town for supplies was required. Apparently booze o’clock ticks over at 9am in the military, and so for three days straight Roccoli stunk.

Despite my observations I shouldn’t be too critical of the Italian military. There mission at Roccoli was to make the 3 ½ hr ascent to Legnone – a challenge I unfortunately didn’t achieve after two weeks at Roccoli. You see my family aren’t very keen on the idea of me conquering Legnone ‘da solo’. It can get pretty tough up there with parts of the climb practically vertical. Also, it’s not like I’m a local and can read mountain weather conditions. One minute the sun is scorching, the next lighting strikes and hail falls, so I guess I can understand their concerns. My cousin and man of all alpine knowledge, Mauro, has vowed to take me one day. So now I just have to wait.

Nonetheless, I made some great climbs to Legnoncino and Agronio with Lou, the friendliest St Bernard you’ll ever meet, by my side and my cousin Arianna or Lisa on the other. We’d use the opportunity to teach each other our native tongue, swapping songs and riddles or correcting each others sentences. Children are so helpful when learning a language or learning anything really. They don’t look at you like you’re retarded and incapable of learning. They genuinely want to help you and you genuinely appreciate their help.

Walking amongst the Alps is pure blissful heaven. The views are glorious and the energy so overwhelming, you kinda understand how you could find yourself dressed in curtains singing ‘Doe a deer, a female deer…’ I LOVE MOUNTAINS! I enjoyed many an hour just sitting, taking in the scenery, letting my senses explore, experiencing joyous contemplation time. Om.

Back at Roccoli I was the rifugo’s new in-house dishwasher. I gotta say there is something sincerely therapeutic about washing dishes. You’re task is repetitive but your body gets a wicked work out and your mind has the capacity to daydream. I think back to my pervious job in Perth where my days were spent in front of a computer, stressed to the max because… because… ???

‘Perchè si!’

Weekends are ridiculously busy at Roccoli. The mountains of plates and glasses seem as tall as the Alps in the background and you have many experiences of dejavu. ‘Didn’t I just wash you Mr white porcelain plate?’ But people come in their hundreds to eat the delicious food of Chef Titziano. ‘Chef’ cooks incredible Alpine regional Italian cuisine. He hand makes all of his pastas, including tortellini, cooks mouth-watering game meats such as venison and wild boar served with polenta, and makes his own bread, cakes and pastries. I told my cousin Giuli that she definitely chose well!!!

So maybe I haven’t climbed Legnone yet, but I sure as hell have achieved my goal to learn how to make REAL coffee. Living with a seriously awesome coffee machine is seriously dangerous. I found knocking back just another shot of sweet black velvet love far too easy, so to mix things up a bit, I’d add a touch of delectably foamed milk or perhaps a good dosing of the ol’latte or if I was really in the mood a shot of grappa… Coffee in my belly around the clock – I’m surprised my heart didn’t palpitate absurdly from all of the caffeine hits I was giving it. Take this tick tocker and this.

The day I left Roccoli was the Alpini Festival. Since I arrived to utter madness, why not depart from utter madness! The Alpini are like the boy scout version of the military – they are taught to hunt animals not humans – and on my last day they came to Roccoli in their droves to eat, drink and be merry. Luckily for me, this time I was as cool as a cucumber and there was no trembling in my ugbooties.