Start: 20080426 [17:6|117] ~1518 UTC
End: 20080426 [17:6|117] ~2140 UTC
Location: via Barberia 12, 40123, Bologna, Emilia-Romagna, Italia
Timezone: UTC+2

He who is not everyday conquering some fear has not learned the secret of life.
(Ralph Waldo Emerson)

Summary: DWRZ walks 40+ km to jump off a bridge.

On 20080425, I left my dorm at 0320. I walked 2km to the Bologna rail station, then took the 0412 train to Milano. I had an uncomfortable seat in the hallway of the car and slept intermittently and poorly until my arrival at 0705. I switched to the train for Novara, and I slept most of the journey from 0715 to 0757. At Novara I got the train to Cossato, again sleeping most of the journey, 0805-0840. With only about 3 hours of sleep in the last 24 hours and a 15kg pack, I began my walk towards Veglio.

The day was sunny and warm throughout. Terrain was subalpine, rural hills of northwestern Piedmont, the Alps rising over the northern horizon. I followed a superstrada for most of the walk, passing mostly through villages and forest, occasionally a stream, an abandoned house or a complex of villas. I was surprised by the beauty of the villages and houses. The architectural style was reminiscent of Turin, but a lot simpler.

I encountered a few people along the way and was struck by their behavior. Everyone said hello and smiled. With a few I exchanged some comments. A middle-aged man right outside of Cossato asked me where I was heading, wished me luck, and told me walking was good and good for the health. At Valle Mosso, passing by a playground, children stopped playing, stared, and asked among themselves what I could possibly be carrying in my pack (it was sleeping bag, bivy, rain jacket, rain pants, sneakers, hand-sanitizer, food, 2 books, binoculars, utensils, about 3L of water, camera, extra batteries, a few other things– plus items I was carrying on my person). An elderly farmer near Mosso asked me, jokingly, if he could have my binoculars (I was using my camera).

At Valle Mosso, a bit lost (I had no map, only vague directions and some research with Google Maps) and seeking a shortcut, I took a “wrong” turn. I ended up heading towards Mosso instead of Veglio. Both connected to the bridge I was heading towards, but while Mosso was closer in terms of linear distance, the road made far more turns and the terrain was a lot steeper. The village of Mosso was nice to walk through, but I made my journey unnecessarily strenuous and added an extra 8km or so to my walk. I reached the bridge (nicknamed “Colossus”) at 1150, 10 minutes before I was supposed to be there. I had covered over 20km in about three hours. My feet were blistered (I had not stopped once) and I was soaked in sweat. I had, however, made it.

I checked in at the reception, paid, switched to my sneakers, and headed back to the bridge. The actual height of the bridge was far less than I had imagined (the initial drop is 152m, my guess is the bridge height is about 180m), in terms of its effect. It was not at all frightening. I watched a few experienced jumpers go, then a rookie tandem jump. I laughed during their jumps, and was very excited. As with skydiving, there were moments of fear and periods of calm. This time, however, the fear was much reduced. Conceptually I had been far more scared of bungee than of skydiving, but in practice the bungee was vastly easier. I don’t know if having skydived and watched others jump before me provided any part of this effect. When my turn came, I felt only a strong sense of commitment and anticipation. The crew was joking around, the cameraman was making faces– it was very different from the seriousness or quiet that took place even among the instructors right before the skydiving jump.

At the ledge, a part of my body was definitely going “holy shit”. But the fear was not any greater than when doing a difficult precision or cat-leap in parkour (where the physical danger is greater). My jump was alright. I would have liked to have held a better position (one of the experienced jumpers did it beautifully, with his legs together and his arms as if he was some kind of jet) and the harness tugged a bit hard on the cojones. The fall, though, was beautiful. It went by a lot slower than I thought it would. As soon as the feet are off, it is just fun and exhilaration. Going back up felt normal, just acceleration in the opposite direction. But the split moment between coming up and going back down again is strange, awesome– I felt like I was slipping in every single direction.

After the third bounce, I pulled myself up and the crew began to lower me down. A crew member at the bottom threw me a rope with a ring, I caught it and he pulled me towards him, then lowered me down. Rope and harness off, I signed a record book, got my certificate, and walked back up towards the bridge. After picking up my DVD, I went back to the reception, picked up my bag, put on my boots, and headed off. The time was around 1430 or so.

On the way back, I made it a point to try to avoid uphill segments, and to get to Valle Mosso as quickly as possible. I took a few shortcuts and at one point made my way through private property, crossing a stream and climbing up a hill through a somewhat dense forest. I was able to cut the distance quite a bit this way and made my way rather quickly to Valle Mosso. From there, I followed the same route back. I took a few rests this time, no more than 5, none over 5 minutes. I was a total wreck by this point– tired, sore, blistered feet and aching bones. Halfway to Cossato, my left quad started cramping, and from then on it was real hell. I felt like I was dragging myself, just throwing my legs off one after the other. From Cossato, there were two train I could have caught to Novara, one at 1741, the other at 1915. As I got closer to Cossato, I realized I needed to pick up the pace. So I did, grunting with every step, wincing when I pressed on the blisters in a bad way. I made it to the station at 1730. I bought my ticket at a bar (there were no machines), then made my way to the track and took off my boots and switched to my sneakers. At 1745, when I had no sight of the train, I went to check the timetable. I had made a mistake– the train had passed at 1714. I was now to wait until 1915. I found a bench, sat on it, and breathed in the magnificent relief of the Alps. I thought for some time about recent events, then, using my shirts for a pillow, I lay down and fell asleep. When I woke up around 1900, I felt totally lost and exhausted. I could barely move my legs– they felt like cement on rusted hinges. I dragged my bag to the train, got in, and fell asleep, suffering from nightmares until 1952. At Novara, I waited for the train to Milano, then boarded that at 2003. More nightmares until 2044. At Milano, I bought my tickets and some credit for my phone, then got on the train. I found a compartment to myself, then fell asleep. I woke up at 2120 when the train departed. The rest of the ride was a cycle of waking up, thinking, falling asleep. At 2352 I reached Bologna, and walked about 1km before managing to catch a bus for the rest of the way.

I got in around 0030. I dropped everything and called my parents, then went straight to bed, setting my alarm for 0500. I was considering going down to Napoli, catching the 0747 train. Partly due to the exhaustion and partly due to other considerations, I was leaning towards not going. I slept through my decision, and woke up at 1330 today (20040826). If it weren’t for the blisters, the soreness, and the general sense of exhaustion, I might have thought of yesterday as a dream or vision. Right now, it feels that way.

Without a doubt, one that I have made come true. Things happened, I lost a companion, I would have to face the jump alone. Then I learned that because of the holiday there would be no public transportation, and I would have to walk. 40+ km in unknown territory, no map, considerable time constraints, 3 hours of bad sleep, the pack. I could easily have just let things go, forgotten about it. But I came through, I went forward under those conditions to complete my objective, and I made it, hooah.

Always do what you are afraid to do.
(Ralph Waldo Emerson)