Alarm sounding, rolling out of bed, a half awake blur, situation: an idyllic Italian village aside a magistic waterfall. An oppressive humidity after three days of heat, we dress and prepare, Bodengo 2 our aim. Echoed warnings of syphons, recirculation, drowning, and doom look to Brendan, our sole source of experience.
The stench of unwashed wetsuits, we drive, up and down. Car at canyon exit, car at canyon entrance. We’d awakened, the cold water splashing at our feet in entrance to our first adventure.
Apprehension and fear relieved after a successful first pitch, this can’t be so hard. Emboldened, Rosi, screaming, ventured the first tabogon. Chasing a bag thrown in some perverse attempt to determine safety of the pitch. Lemmings followed, joining Rosi, the inescapable right of the pool. Underestimating the current, and inadequate in strength, rendered stuck.
A rescue, though noble in intent, in its haste was miscommunicated to the group stranded. A rope, mistaken for a tackle sack was thrown, handed around the stranded. Assumed, like the others, this tackle sack needed brought back to shore. Chaos and miscommunication. The rope was prematurely pulled, we’d neither noticed nor grabbed on. In the chaos I managed to gain purchase on the rope, then reaching out to a drowning Anna, grabbed hold as the rope pulled. Thankfully, through some manoeuvre, Anna and I gained the rope and were pulled to safety. Rosi and David left stranded till a second rope was thrown.
Our hubris stilted, the next few pitches proceeded without incident. Faith in Brenden, washed away, slowly restored.
Then the traverse. Having spent much time on land rehearsing the dance of pull through traverses, Brenden employs an exotic solution. Simply clipping himself to one end of rope, the other sliding freely through a bolt, then seeming surprised when this unfastened line fails to catch his fall. Brandon, leaving this line insitu, jumps the pitch. Next on the pitch, our least experienced member, abandoned to fix this line in a more conventional style.
Morale at all time low, the unassailable faith in our captain eroded. Thankfully, escape was close.
Our deliverance came in two English climbers, a father and son. Pointing us to the canyon exit. We made our way to safety 5 hours after setting off.
All things considered, excellent trip would do again!
Edit:
New evidence has since come to light corroborating my account of events. A video clearly displaying our inadequate swimming ability, lack of clear communication, and Brenden’s premature pulling of the rope is included for completeness: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0vnlAwM_Mkc
This post is satire, in reality Brenden successfully led a bunch of liabilities down a relatively challenging canyon without much incident. Many thanks to him for a wonderful excersion.