DRIVE THE ALPS

Sometimes it happens that a story you never thought to tell transforms what should have been a day like any other into something that will never leave your mind.

Words Alessandro Marrone / Photos Jay Tomei

6:15 am. This is not a morning like many others. The alarm clock bursts into the silence of the room and as I begin to open my eyes with extreme laziness, the image of the mountain that awaits me immediately takes shape in my mind. It is November 9^th and it seems that autumn has reduced its time with us, giving way to what promises to be a be long and cold winter. For several months it will no longer be possible to conquer the peaks of the mountains, let alone those less traveled roads such as that of Colle Fauniera which continues west towards Rocca La Meja, the main destination of my journey towards the so-called Piedmont’s Dolomites.

That’s right, thanks not just to their conformation but also to the type of dolomite rocks alternating with limestone, those of Rocca La Meja are truly identical to those of the Dolomites. However, being less famous and even wilder, they represent the ideal destination to write the final chapter of a season that once again brought us to an endless number of breathtaking roads, regardless of whether they were covered with asphalt or rough gravel. This last option has in recent times rapidly begun to arouse a particular love in me. Probably due to the fact that allows, at least by driving on the less crowded days of the year, to establish a more intimate relationship with the mountain itself and with the surrounding landscape, but also because thanks to an off-road or even a more comfortable and refined SUVs it is possible to abandon the main road and reach the heart of a completely uncontaminated place capable of making you feel in another world, where every noise, every smell and everything that stands before the eye has something inexplicable in common words.

 

 

 

8:30 am. We have now been on the road for about an hour and after filling up some petrol, I am pleased to find that the dimensions and weight of the Ford Explorer do not represent a problem at all in terms of mileage. What for Americans is in fact a medium-sized SUV perfectly suited for families, in the old continent is seen more as a real giant of the road, better if kept away from city centers. But the Explorer, despite its 508 centimeters in length and a width that exceeds 2 meters with rear-view mirrors open, proves to be quite at ease even in the most unthinkable maneuvers. This is undoubtedly thanks to the cameras with view also on the side areas of the vehicle, in order to allow parking even where you did not think it was possible. The engine is also XL size, it is a 3-liter V6 combined with an electric engine with Plug-In Hybrid system, which with charged batteries can deliver the likes of 457 horsepower. And then there is the torque, a mighty maximum torque of 825 Nm. I said 825, more than an Audi RS6! These are some solid numbers.

All this translates into a gigantic 7-seater apartment that moves extremely quickly and shortens distances while also taking advantage of exceptional on-board comfort. In fact, we find a full optional set-up that in perfect American style provides comfortable heated and cooled leather armchairs with various massage modes. The steering wheel is heated as well, while with the exception of the climate control buttons and the audio system, the infotainment can be controlled via a very functional, practical and precise 12.3-inch touch display, this time positioned vertically. It goes without saying that there is plenty of space, especially for rear occupants and luggage, while the two extra seats are located in the first portion of the load compartment, they fold down electronically and partially reduce the capacity of the trunk. There is also a double floor in which, for example, you can arrange the charging cables.

 

 

One of the many positive aspects of the Explorer is the gearbox, which thanks to 10 speeds manages to handle the engine revs in perfect autonomy in order to move the car smoothly and without drinking too much fuel. At the same time, with a decisive thrust on the throttle or perhaps using one of the many driving modes available – in this case Sport – the thermal and electric engines will work in symbiosis, moving the Explorer at consistent speeds. Of course we are not talking about a distinctly high-performance SUV and not only because of a weight of 2,541 kg, but rather for a set-up that nevertheless remains soft and a steering that, although not tuned like that of a pick-up, requires a greater movement compared to that of a traditional SUV. Driving, excluding the motorway area, makes necessary to take measures carefully so to get in tune with the width and length of the Explorer, but after a few kilometers you realize that driving it even on a daily basis is by no means impossible. As far as the electrification is concerned, the car in question leaves nothing to chance and in fact in addition to offering a maximum mileage with the combustion engine off of even 40 km, it provides 4 modes that allow for example to drive only with electricity, or to maintain a energy reserve useful for parking in the garage at home or maybe accessing some areas closed to traffic, or for example favoring energy recovery.

 

 

 

9:30 am. Finally exiting the motorway and passing Cuneo, the eyes turn upwards, where a shy sun seems to be glimpsed under a thick blanket of clouds. We continue towards Vinadio and once we arrive in Demonte, we make a final check on the fuel gauge and the weather that we should find over the next 30 km, in the direction of Colle Fauniera. I postponed our road trip here for various reasons and now, with the bad season just around the corner, this could be the last chance to reach Gias Bandia and Rocca La Meja. The history of the place is touching and having exchanged a few words with the locals we discovered the dramatic events that made the area a death zone during the Second World War, as remembered precisely near Gias Bandia, by the stones that recall the cruel killing of two young shepherds, believed to be partisans by the Nazi troops who were raking the area, not to mention the deadliest massacre of soldiers that cost the lives of 23 young Alpine troops in the unforgettable February of 1937.

So we take the Vallone dell’Arma road and everything begins to get narrower. Without even realizing it we notice that many flocks and groups of cattle have already been moved down the valley, but both the weather forecast and a constant look at the sky from the panoramic roof of our Ford convince us that it is safe to continue. A few kilometers later, the absence of any sign or delimitation that could indicate a possible road closure tells us that everything is proceeding in the right direction. It will be up to us to decide, in case of rain, when to turn and reverse in complete safety. The road continues clean and dry, but when we pass San Giacomo the real spectacle imposes in front of our eyes courtesy of an uncontaminated nature that runs wild up to an altitude of 2,831 meters.

 

 

 

A panorama of rare beauty suddenly appears in front of us. The valley, completely assailed by the colors of autumn, seems to prostrate itself at the foot of the rocky mountains which, as far as the eye can see, guide the gaze towards a horizon made indistinguishable by a thin veil of fog. Aiming for the highest peaks I can see the intensity of the strong wind that moves the clouds so violently that from one second to the next it seems to be looking at an ever-changing backdrop. What does not change is the amazement drawn on our faces and for this reason we are forced to make some unscheduled stops, so as to allow Jay to take the first photos of our climb towards the long-awaited Rocca. There is not a living soul around, animals are now far from their summer meadows and wildlife almost completely hibernating away from temperatures that soon stabilize at only 1 degree above zero. Luckily we have put on some clothes heavier than usual, but the cockpit of the Explorer is the safe place you want to find yourself in, especially when you can adjust the desired temperature in any portion of the cabin and keep heading north with seat and steering wheel properly heated.

 

 

 

After a few kilometers we reach the Carbonetto Refuge, obviously closed and without the sheep crowding the surrounding fields. I take a brief look at the stone structure on our left and I already imagine how we could have placed the car for a few more shots. But I also check the sky in front of us and I prefer to continue and exploit as much as possible what I believe to be few, indeed very few hours of still favorable weather, possibly leaving this location for our way back. Instead of clearing up, the sky now seems destined to cloud over more and more, with a light drizzle that begins to wet the windshield of the Explorer as we do not miss the opportunity to take a couple of shots along a straight line that seems to end in the heart of the mountain that rises in front of us. Everything seems perfect, there is absolutely anyone around and we can therefore walk the road in complete tranquility without worrying about traffic coming from the opposite side, an aspect that would involve several maneuvers given that the carriageway is very narrow and lacking lay-by areas.

 

 

 

All around just total absence of trees and the expanse with the typical autumnal tones that still seems hidden by the frost of a night with temperature variations far below zero. I observe every little detail, the rocks, the lateral boundary posts and those peaks with white top that seem wanting to wrap all those gigantic rock wedges that delimit a huge natural basin that holds us in its primordial embrace. We pass a small metal shed probably used by shepherds during summer and after a few kilometers, a thin veil of snow starts to invade the road. I immediately shift the driving modes rotor to “Low grip” and the Explorer makes optimal use of all-wheel drive, trying to limit wheel spins and passing without any problem those few meters of delicate white blanket.

 

 

 

10:15 am. After a random hairpin bend, the panorama takes us off guard once again and with a straight section with a greater hint of snow, we believe that it is again the ideal moment for a picture. Jay and I get out of the car, turning off the engine and engaging the parking brake. Giorgia stays on board, checking the mobile that now seems unable to connect to anything. With my eyes lost in total admiration of the landscape and with the photographer preparing for the shot, I see that suddenly the car begins to slide backwards. Giorgia screams and without even realizing it I start running towards the car. In that moment, in those frenetic and dramatic seconds of total helplessness and fear, she manages to open the door and jump out of the car. In the meantime I am able to hang on to the handle and with a movement moved by desperation I jump on board and press the brake pedal, steering in such a way as to put a wheel on the roadside and thus stop the car’s run towards the precipice.

 

 

 

I can’t describe that moment better for the simple fact that it’s like I have a memory lapse. It is as if from the run to the car and the save everything had happened in less than a fraction of a second. With our hands shaking because of the near disaster we decide to turn immediately and head back, but in the meantime the snow is intensifying and we have to hurry. I cannot get out of the car, not now that we have seen how the tires do not grip onto the road surface and especially not after having avoided the worst scenario with a daring luck that I do not intend to challenge again. Jay and Giorgia thus begin to walk north, in the hope that a little further on there will be a fairly wide and less exposed point to the precipice that will allow a U-turn. At the end of this section there is a slight bend to the left, then immediately a switchback and the situation beyond seems impossible to deal with. I slowly move the Explorer forward. Legs are shaking, but finally the car begins to move away from the jump into the void a few centimeters behind my back.

Visibility worsens with each passing minute and I know that we must quickly try to reverse and try with the utmost caution to overcome the stretch that transformed a day immersed in an uncontaminated rocky paradise into a horrible white nightmare. I reach the point indicated, but when I have to counter-steer to maneuver in reverse the car slips again, this time to the left, where a few meters there is a jump of who knows how many meters. Agitation begins to take over, but trying in every way to act lucidly, we get some stones and uproot some wooden stakes placed on the roadside, in order to shore up the wheels and try in every way to prevent it from continuing to slide backward. The consequences would be dramatic. I get on board once again and with my hands stiff from the cold for having tried to pull away the snow deposited around the wheels, I grab the steering wheel and try to free myself. The car does not move, wheels are spinning. We are completely stuck.

 

 

 

It is in this very moment that you realize that certain things don’t just happen in movies. We are in the middle of a storm, at -4° and with the car that is not only blocked by snow, but dangerously risks to start sliding again on the ice below without any possibility of control. We take our mobiles but no one has any signal, so we try once again to move a few centimeters by placing other wooden poles under the wheels. Once again our attempt is unsuccessful and so we work to improve the block, at least to prevent the car from moving in the wrong direction. There is no time to waste, I take an umbrella and a walkie-talkie and start walking in the direction we came from, continuing to attempt a distress call for emergency, which however does not work. I also try to ask for help using all the channels of the radio, in the hope of intercepting someone, but nothing. The road is now covered with snow and the blizzard seems to increase in intensity with the passing of minutes, in fact when I turn back to look at the broken down car, I can hardly distinguish the gestures of my colleagues looking for anything in the trunk that may be helpful.

 

 

 

I decide to go back to the car and in the meantime I notice some footprints that weren’t there before. The reason is very simple and since there are only those of my feet and not those of the car tires, it means that something has walked a few meters from us, more precisely between me and the car. To add some panic to the already convulsed situation, the absolute solitude that we love so much when the mountain is serene and allows itself to be conquered. Yes, because that’s who really decides to give you permission. And when it’s not allowed, it’s best not to defy mother nature. Once we reach the car, I warn Jay and Giorgia to constantly look around, but unfortunately we can’t solve anything from that position. We absolutely must move and find a point where there is phone signal and call for help.

We then take the umbrella, put on gloves, a hat and set off. From here to the valley it’s 25 kilometers and only afterwards I did verify that walking to the closest village would have taken more than 6 hours, obviously in normal weather conditions. Not that we had any intention or hope of being able to face such a thing, but as we continue the descent with the hope that the car will remain stationary where it is, the complete isolation starts turning into a very bad feeling that grips the stomach every time we turn a blind corner. We know that further down there is the refuge and that even if empty it could have represented a safe place in which to take shelter and continue to try calling for help. “If anyone hears me we seriously need help. Please answer”- I never thought I’d find myself in a similar situation, walking in the storm looking at my back for wolves. Yet these are precisely the situations that in their drama manage to bring out the best in you. I feel responsible, even though I don’t think it’s just my fault. It was not negligence, I checked everything possible and we were really going to go back and give up the conquest of the summit, but unfortunately bad luck and fate had other plans. And they said that of journalist was a boring job.

 

 

 

11:30 am. It is not so much the cold, not even the strong wind or the effort of sinking step after step into a snow ground that is becoming more and more consistent. It is that surreal silence, that lack of reference points now buried by that soft and infamous white mantle that confuse our ideas. In that moment you think ‘bout everything, but lost in that distressing nothingness, every idea is unachievable. Finally I see that metal shed we passed earlier and as soon as I notice that it is not closed by a chain, I open the door and find a providential shelter. There is no more road, there are no more meadows, now everything is indistinct white. We go out for a moment and finally a weak signal allows us to forward the first call for help. The operator responds immediately and I promptly provide the position (as precisely as possible) and the type of request: we need a recovery as quickly as possible.

We are told that a patrol and a vehicle of the Fire Brigade will leave shortly, so we return to the hut, even if in that shelter of fortune mobiles are useless and unable to be contacted back, so we are forced to go out and walk meters in the snow in order to let us update on the status of the recovery operation. The wait is frustrating and as the minutes go by the snow intensifies to the point that one of the two 4x4s is forced to stop, in order to avoid getting stuck too. Obviously we do not know anything and so we try other calls, all we needed was the confirmation that someone would have brought us away from that situation. Half an hour, an hour, another half hour passes and looking at the clock I begin to imagine the worst epilogue. We recommend each other to move hands and feet, so as to avoid possible frostbite and suddenly I decide to leave the shed and walk towards our rescuers.

 

 

 

Unfortunately the snowfall is too heavy and forces me to turn back after having covered just a couple of kilometers. Once back in the shelter we can do nothing but wait. The hours pass inexorably and the fear that darkness will arrive pushes us to go back to the car, where we have all our things, including food and water. The uphill walk is much more tiring than what we have faced up to now, both because the snow becomes more and more abundant and heavy on the road, both because the physical fatigue inevitably adds to the mental one while hoping that someone really comes here. In fact, if until a few hours before we were aware of being in a bad situation, we have now realized with certainty that we are in a potentially dramatic situation. After all, with these temperatures and conditions, tragedy is always lurking.

I keep turning around, but this time no longer worried about possible wild animals approaching, but rather in the hope that in any moment now I will be able to glimpse headlights or flashing lights breaking that incessant whiteout that has covered everything around. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see that the car has remained where it was, secured by those improvised props with the few things we managed to collect before everything was eventually submerged. We get on board and we realize that the car is equipped with a satellite emergency call system. I try that too and I am once again able to talk to the command of the local Fire Brigade who confirms that a team has been leaving for about an hour and that we should have seen it in a while. Unfortunately, the excitement of the moment did not allow perfect clarity and despite everything I am happy that with what happened, no person or thing has undergone the slightest damage. I go down and open the trunk to put all of our things together and in the distance I finally see a red Defender. The cavalry has arrived. Not without problems and with tire chains promptly mounted on the old but effective Land Rover we are taken to the valley. We’re safe and that’s all that matters.

 

 

 

So many other words could be spent here, but I believe that in a moment like this the only ones that really matter is “thank you”. Thanks to all those who have contributed to our safety, people who risk their lives every day to help others, regardless of the risks. Thanks to Ford Italia for their understanding and thanks to my partners for having represented the best company with which finding yourself stranded in a white void and that in spite of all the drama movies you get on Netflix show, if you do not lose control, you can go back home and tell the story, just like I decided to do with this somewhat unusual article. So forgive me if for the moment we have not deepened much the technical aspects of the Ford Explorer, but I have always thought that honesty, spontaneity and sincerity are the basis of my profession and therefore I have considered that this adventure – I hope unrepeatable – was worth sharing with all of you. In the next issue, we will talk about how the Explorer has been able to win on me in the following weeks, after the recovery team managed to bring it to safety, far from that harsh mountain.