The slides ran fast through the dark of the room, projecting images of majestic peaks and unspoilt ice. Lorenzo Negri looked at those photographs with wide eyes, listening to his father’s tales of distant lands and legendary exploits. In those nights, amid the flickering lights projected on the wall, Lorenzo had dreamed of a mountain more than all: the Alpamayo, the most beautiful in the world.
Lorenzo’s father had been there in the '90s, together with Mariolino Conti, but the two were forced to return after reaching the high camp due to altitude. However, the story that links his family to this wonderful mountain begins in 1975, when his grandfather’s brother, Pino Negri, along with Casimiro Ferrari and an expedition of the Ragni Group, opened a new route on the famous SW wall.
The years have passed, time has chiseled the passion of Lorenzo, turning him into a mountaineer like his father and great-uncle. Next to him, with the same sparkle in his eyes, is Alessia Civicchioni, photographer and mountaineer. Both ready for the adventure of life: the Alpamayo.
At the airport to greet them on departure for that adventure, there is precisely Lorenzo’s father, almost as if it were the symbolic passage of a dream.
A flight through three continents, with stops in Paris, Atlanta and finally Lima. From there, a bus takes Lorenzo and Alessia to Huaraz, the beating heart of the Peruvian Andes, at 3052 meters altitude.
The first days are of acclimatization, with a first excursion that took them to the famous Churup Lagoon, at 4450 meters, which opens before them like an eye of blue crystal, silent witness of their first step towards their enterprise.
After this first outing, they spend a couple of days in Huaraz to prepare the material, then they leave for the Ishinca refuge and the first peaks at more than 5,000 meters. The path to the shelter crosses a very long valley, and heavy backpacks do not facilitate the way, but Alessia and Lorenzo continued, step by step, until they reached the shelter where, after a dinner in Peruvian style at 7:30 pm, they went to bed, Exhausted, but excited.
The alarm sounds in the middle of the night, at two o'clock. The shelter is immersed in an unreal silence, broken only by the muffled sound of the wind that slides over the ice walls. Lorenzo and Alessia, with mechanical and precise gestures, prepare themselves.A quick breakfast, then off, outside, in the icy night. Their goal is the summit of Nevado Ishinca, 5530 meters high.
The climb starts gently, but the altitude is felt. The air is thin, each step requires a greater effort. Lorenzo’s legs look like lead, they become slow, heavy. Alessia takes the lead of the cordate, tracing the way with determination. With its strength and steady rhythm, it drags him to the top.
The next day, even before the sun rises, I am already on my way to Nevado Urus, at 5420 meters. This time Lorenzo feels lighter, the body seems to have adapted, his legs respond with energy. The summit comes almost in a flash, without the weight of the previous day’s fatigue.
After the descent to the shelter, they retrieve their things and prepare for the long return. They walk through the valley, step by step, retracing their journey with a dream that seems closer and closer: soon they will meet Alpamayo. Finally, they arrive in Pashpa, where a friend is waiting for them with his jeep. The road to Huaraz runs fast under the wheels.
After a few days of rest and preparation, the big moment has arrived. A rider leads them with his donkey to the base camp. The landscape seems to come out of the slides of childhood: endless valleys, spires of rock that are lost in the sky, the wind whispering ancient stories. From there, with the help of two porters, they reach the high field at 5500 meters. Every meter conquered is a piece of dream that comes to life.
The first two days run in a suspended time, between preparations and silences full of expectation. On the third day, finally, it is time to leave the base camp and venture towards the high field, skipping the morena field. The glacier opens before them like a maze of huge crevasses, deep cracks that stretch under their footsteps. They proceed cautiously, scrutinizing every movement, listening to the mountain’s breath.
When they reach the terminal crepacciata, they are in front of one of the most technical points of the ascent: a vertical jump of ice of 15 meters. Lorenzo and Alessia look at each other for a moment, then, without needing words, they prepare. Concentration, precision. Having passed the obstacle, they stop, their breath is short, their hearts are pounding in their chest.
And that’s when it appears. The wall of Alpamayo, the most beautiful, the one that had been hidden until then. It is there, before them, imposing and sublime. For a moment they remain speechless, wrapped in a reverent silence. The dream they have been cultivating for years is only a few steps away, but the biggest challenge still awaits them. Tomorrow will be the decisive day, the one that, if everything goes as they hope, will take them to the top.
After a quick meal of freeze-dried foods, they slip into sleeping bags. The sleep is light, fragmented by adrenaline and awareness that the decisive moment is now close. The alarm rings before midnight, and at 23:30 are the first to leave the field, the fronts that split the darkness of the night.
They move carefully, overcoming the crepacciata terminal that leads them into the channel of the Basque-French road, the only one that can be walked because of the gigantic seracs that are looming on the summit. Silence is absolute. Each shot is a challenge against the cold and fatigue, eight long and icy 60-meter ice throws. Then, finally, shortly after dawn, their crampons touch the summit.
The world opens wide beneath them, an ocean of clouds and snowy peaks. The joy is unstoppable, emotions explode in hugs and stares. One moment and then the mountain calls again, and they know it’s time to come down.
The double descents begin, the return through the ice that put them to the test. A short break at the high field to recover, then, without wasting time, they resume the descent to the base camp. Here, in the embrace of the valley, they spend their last night in tents, surrounded by the silent beauty of the Andes.
At dawn, with their hearts filled with satisfaction, they resume the way. Every step brings them back to Cachapampa, every meter is a goodbye and a promise. This is just the beginning of a new dream. Because mountains are not only peaks to conquer. They are stories to write, memories to honor, dreams of those who preceded us to realize. And now a new story, a new adventure awaits them.
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