Conveniently, my cousin was forecasted to get married in southern Italy, where some of my Italian family lives. The south of Italy is glorious, not quite on pace with the chaos of the North, but still quite chic and sophisticated in its own way. The beaches down there are just stupid. Huge limestone cliffs with caves and pristine turquoise waters shimmering below compose the backdrop for you as you sit at a cafe eating your 3 Euro wood-fired pizza and snacking on vine-ripened Italian tomatoes. The area is also famous for its take on the famous french dessert called La Profiterole, which is small crispy fried bread balls filled with ice cream and then covered in dark chocolate and allowed to cool.
Anyway, on the way down we stopped on the Italian Riviera in a town called Levanto, which was quite pleasant. This town is near Cinque Terre, but not quite part of it. After this stopover and beaching, we continued down to the wedding, where I could literally write pages about the food and beaches, but I won't waste your time. You can just look at the pictures.
We were enjoying it.
Then we headed south to check out some nice beaches and acquire some rays.
The reason the food is so good in Italy is because stuff just grows. Look a nice bouquet.
Liz gets wet.
After like 10 days of eating and beaching, it was time to burn some mozzarella, so we went to another beach on our way back called Finale Ligure, which just happens to be an epicenter of extreme in northwestern Italy. Crazy good limestone everywhere, with awesome fins and cracks galore.
We met up with our detachment of Swedish friends from Cham: Michelle and Amanda. They ended up camping in various illegal beaches and parking lots for like two weeks before they finally got sick of being kicked out of their squat at 6am everyday.
Finale is real nice.
Babe Squad.
We enjoy the beach at night too.
Girls; they like ice cream.
But sometimes they drink too much wine after.
The next day we wanted to climb some psicobloc, but there was a pesky ledge here that would break your head.
The Germans wanted to get naked and get wet.
The scenery helps.
We were having too much fun, we had to go back to Cham and find a suffer bivy ASAP!
My first goal was to climb the fabled Rebuffat route, which consists of 7-9 pitches of amazing alpine granite that accessed by a ten minute walk from the midi cablecar and ends at the summit.
Does that look like something that interests you?
Ross and I were able to enjoy the route with perfect temps and no other people on the route. It was tres agreable.
We took a steep variation to the right which I think was the end of the Contamine route. Some nice hard overhanging cracks and beautiful corners.
Ross rode it.
We arrived at the top station just in time for some lunch. I called up liz and she came up with some sandwiches and spandex and wine. We feasted then rapped back down and climbed the last 3 pitches again. The whole concept was pretty ridiculous.
Look at that.
The finish is a sporty pitch. A bit spicy.
The day before Liz did the cosmique arete with Ross while I was working.
She had to repeatedly hold the the French army boyz' hands.
A variation that lead to some nice alpine cragging.
I think that's about it.
