A View from the Top

March 30, Sunday

European Daylight Savings began today – a few weeks after its US counterpart. So now I am once again 6 hours ahead of home. Although the clocks read 10 when we woke up, it was really just the old 9 and we were an hour behind with the day. Julia and I decided yesterday that we would spend our free day scaling that mountain – despite the winds. Of course, that couldn’t start until after we cleaned… then after lunch since we didn’t have any food we could take with us.

So after our late breakfast, I cleaned the bathroom and our bedroom. Andrea was cleaning the kitchen and doing much too thorough of a job at it. And lunch preparations couldn’t begin until she was done. Frustrated at the sabotage, Julia and I left the house for an hour until she would be finished.

Luckily, the local soccer team had a home game today. Roughly every-other-week, we can hear the shouts and whistles and cheers when we dump the mop water outside or hang up our laundry. Today – we were going to see what the fuss was all about.

The stadium is on the way to the north coast – on the dusty road full of construction that will never be completed. The gates were open, so we walked in. We brought money for a ticket, but even if we had found a place to buy tickets, there was no one to collect them. So we climbed up into the bleachers, trying to look like we knew what we were doing. Our entrance was the only time that the spectators removed their eyes from the field – and we became the temporary focal point. The stands were not crowded – a few dozen locals, probably the families of the players who double as fans in this one-horse town. We stood out, but everyone here already knows who we are. Just surprised to see us there, I guess.

The remainder of the game lasted an hour – and included just one goal. Fortunately, it was scored against the visiting team. As soon as the net shook from the impact of the ball, everyone around us sprang to their feet. Shouting, cheering, jumping, screaming, applauding – as if they didn’t really expect their team to be able to score. Eventually, everyone retook their seats and the game continued. That is, until a ref made some call that apparently unfairly favored the other team. The stands stood again – yelling and shouting in a different tone. Several of the fans left the stands to get closer to the action – right up to the fence, hollering and gesturing. I don’t know what the problem was or how they resolved it, but everyone eventually took their seats again. The other team hadn’t scored, and they were satisfied with that. Several minutes later, they stood up again and filed out of the bleachers. Just like that, the game was over – no fanfare, nothing. We followed them out to the dusty road and head back to the house.

Andrea still wasn’t done with the kitchen – clearly sabotage Julia said. There was nothing we could do about it, so we just enjoyed more Sunday free time until Andrea finally vacated the kitchen. Julia made, according to the programme of course, pasta con tonno. Since we must have pasta for lunch, that recipe isn’t that bad. We ate quickly but within the means of politeness, then grabbed our bags.

We got out of the house at 3:22 – much too late for a day hike. By 4:03 we made it to the gate with the big hand telling us not to enter. Just like yesterday, we entered anyway. Bruno had told us that he can get to the top in an hour from the gate, but we would probably need to take a little more time – especially if it was windy. Well, it was windy. But we reached the summit at 4:50 – a 47 minute climb for the US girls.

At the top, there are a series of three buildings – only the first one is still in use. We passed it by and headed to the last one – on the very top. From the cracked concrete slab that might have once served as a patio area, I could see the entire town with its 5 unnamed beaches, the rocky shore of the north coast, the top of Figarolo, the waters offshore and the Aranci Bay. For the small price of 47 minutes of hiking, this was quite a reward. I was instantly glad that I had made the trek.

Once we snapped pictures of the breathtaking panorama, we turned our attention to the abandoned building. I hadn’t come all this way not to see inside. Julia kept a few steps behind me as I slipped through the open door. I stood in a hallway with a series of rooms off of both sides. Graffiti covered the walls – other hikers’ proving their presence with scratches, charcoal, pencil and spray paint. At the opposite end of the hallway, a series of steps lead into a large room. To get there, I had to pass a half-dozen other doors – some open, some closed, some missing. A few careful steps carried past the first set of opposite doors. I scanned inside for anything of note – people, animals, something. But nothing. As I headed to the next set of doorframes, something stirred in the large room at the end of the hall. A scratching noise. Then digging. Someone – or something – was riffling through what sounded like plastic and empty metal cans. Julia had just cleared the front door, still several steps behind me. When we heard the sounds, we both froze. I kept my eyes on the empty doorway ahead of me, but I could hear Julia slowly backing away.

“What is that?!” she whispered. The sudden change in her voice made me realize that our conversation just seconds before hadn’t disturbed whoever, whatever, was in the top room. Could it not have heard us? No – the massive concrete walls tunneling around me would have carried my voice straight into that room. Whatever it was, we hadn’t bothered it yet.

I kept my feet planted and twisted my torso around to face her. “I don’t know,” I whispered back. She looked terrified. I think she was ready to run back down the mountain. It might have been funny – if I had known what was in that room. I turned back to face the door. The sound continued, but I still couldn’t see any movement.

My mind raced through the possibilities while I kept still. I hadn’t seen anyone on the path above us. But there was a group that came down while we were going up. They had a bunch of kids. Maybe they left one here on accident? No, there weren’t that many kids to not notice one missing. Besides, a lost child here in this abandoned building would be crying. Maybe someone lives here? No – there is no fresh water source, no food. Why would someone make the hike every day or so for supplies when they could live a sea level in another abandoned building. Maybe its an animal? The wild boars wouldn’t stroll down a hallway and up stairs, would they? Can boars even climb stairs? Up but not down? Or is that a cow – or maybe a horse? Don’t remember – not important right now. Maybe it’s a dog? There are enough of them around here roaming free – why not have one up on the mountain? Because there is no food and no water. Probably not a dog.

Still, nothing moved past the open doorway at the top of the stairs. I had nearly convinced myself that it wasn’t living – until I realized that the sound wasn’t coming from the door at the end. It was coming from the door to my left, just a few feet down the hallway. My heart lurched. I didn’t know which room Julia thought it was coming from, so I thought it best not to turn around and tell her. If I saw the terror on her face again, I might run down the mountain with her. My mind went blank, then all I could think of was Fight or Flight. I knew Julia’s answer. I chose the other one.

With one massive step, I moved forward and shouldered the wall just outside the suspected doorway. Fight or Flight. Fight or Flight. In an instant, I spun around into the doorframe – my palms up in front of me like Noah holding back the sea. Fight or Flight. A window. A plank leading to the window sill. And three more doorframes on my right, inside the room. But no people. No animals. Blinded by adrenaline and Fight, I rushed inside to inspect the three new doors. The first one – Clear! The second one – and that’s when I saw it. Or rather, that’s when I heard it, then saw it. In the empty window frame before me, a tattered sheet of industrial plastic flapped in the wind. My eyes scanned the perimeter of the broken frame. Just the wind. I looked at the floor. Dozen’s of dusty Sardinian beer cans clattered against each other, prodded by the wind. Plastic and metal. Great.

“It’s in here,” I called back to Julia – hoping she was still there and not halfway down the mountain. My arms dropped to my sides. She peered into the room I stood in. “Its just the wind blowing that broken plastic,” I offered. Convinced, she entered the room. Still buzzing on adrenaline, I checked the last two doors. Nothing. And nothing.

Back in the hallway, I systematically scanned the remaining rooms. Again, nothing but graffiti and beer cans. We ascended the steps into the large room. More of the same, but this room was round with a dome roof. In the back stood the base of a giant metal pole that ran through an intentional hole in the roof. The pole had long since rusted through just a few feet from its anchor. Now, the broken end leans against the wall in midair. It still goes through the hole, but crooked and resting against the roof. It would have been terrifying to be here when that finally broke. And it would be even more terrifying to be here when the old building finally gives way to the massive metal rod pushing against its wall and roof. So I didn’t stay there long. One scare a day is enough for me. No need to be tempting fate with concrete and brick collapsing on me.

Satisfied with our explorations inside, Julia and I walked back down the hallway and out the front door. Around the building, across a sinking cement slab, we came to the edge of the mountain looking offshore. Again, the view was astounding. But much too high for dolphin sightings. We picked our way along the edge, taking pictures and investigating igloos of rock with crosses mounted on the top. Perched on the rocks overlooking the bay and the town, I watched the clouds come up over the edge towards me.

At 6:30, we started back down. Thankfully, the extra hour of sunlight gave us over 90 minutes on the summit. We made it back to the gate with the prohibiting hand in 50 minutes, including a few photo op breaks and a moufflon sighting. I stopped to scratch a big yellow lab at the cement factory house. It was the biggest dog I’ve talked to in Italy. And yes, I did talk to him. Julia took a video of me, but I didn’t realize it until after I already had a lengthy conversation. She feeds cats; I scratch dogs. Anyway, we got back to the house just after 8 when the sun had just slipped behind the rooftops. Dinner hadn’t been started, so I went back out to call home. When I returned, the lentejas (dinner) were almost ready.

The culprit and I … very scary.

Me in the hallway – after we knew it wasn´t haunted or inhabited.

View of Figarolo and offshore.

A view of Golfo Aranci and Aranci Bay.

The north shore with other islands in background.

Me with offshore backdrop, taken from the top.

A moufflon.

View of town from the top.

The same view, but with some landmarks pointed out. I hope you can read the text!

Monument with cross – purpose unknown.