Don’t follow me, I’m lost. I’m off to Melloblocco and I know I’ll get lost. For the umpteenth time, my thirteenth, I’m going to get lost. The bouldering treasure map will be of no use whatsoever. Not even the beers served by Iris will enlighten me. Even if some – the usual three Mello suspects – insist it’s all easy. Which it is nice, and healthy too. Nevertheless, I’ll continue to fail to understand. That Valley sky. Its rocks. Those boulders hidden in the woods. Those problems that everyone climbs. All those smiles. Why so many so stubbornly insist in taking part. In returning. In coming for the first time. In short, don’t follow me. Don’t follow them. You too will risk getting lost. Will risk unearthing more questions and problems you’d ever imagined. And you’ll risk meeting and getting to know all those climbers who come from just about everywhere. From Turkey. France. Spain. Germany. Austria. Switzerland. From everywhere. Within Italy they travel from Sicily, South Tyrol, Valle d’Aosta and from who knows where. Once I met one someone from Australia… And then there’s also the crew from Brescia, a disreputable lot. Watch out and don’t be lured: they claim to be climbers, but they always end up making mayhem.