Jump

May 24, 2022

Manoel, host of Casa nel Parco, in front of wooded mountains at Lake Garda, Italy — He said it was deep enough, and then all he said was: jump.

Day seven, Italy. I arrived at Lake Garda yesterday, at the Casa nel Parco near Prabione, five hundred metres up in the hills. The second battery charges while I drive, and the solar panel does its part. I worked online in the morning. At two I go walking with Manoel, who runs the place, and his son.

I don't know it yet, but today is the day.

We are heading down to Campione del Garda, an hour on foot. First a narrow road, then a track through the woods. The path turns to stone and I am wearing smooth shoes, so I have to go down into my knees and pick my way across the loose pieces like something that isn't quite a person any more.

Thomas, Manoel's son, says goodbye at the top. Too much for today. A hundred and fifty years ago, when there was still a cotton mill down in Campione, the women of Prabione walked this path four times a day to get to work. Every season. Every kind of weather.

The path gets steeper and runs along the cliffs. We are close to climbing now. “Everything that's beautiful is forbidden,” Manoel says, and points at a sign warning of flood waves from the dam above the gorge. We walk past the sign and hold on to a rope on the left, because on the right the edge goes down a long way.

Then we stop. The waterfall comes over smooth rock into a pool so clear you can see how deep it is, and the pool spills on down the mountain without hurrying.

Manoel goes left. We leave the rock behind, climb over boulders, wade through water cold enough to make the bones ache. Another pool. Small basins. More rock. I move like a gecko to keep the smooth shoes on the stone, and I am enjoying myself more than I have in years.

At the end of the gorge we look up. I wonder whether anyone standing at the top could see us, and decide we would look like toys.

I get ready to jump.

“It's deep enough,” says Manoel. “Jump.”

I go over the lip into blue water. It is ice cold and it burns like light. I am afraid of the depth under my kicking feet, the way you are afraid of a room with the lamp off.

Then I come up, and I am someone else, and nobody watching would have been able to tell.

Smiling hiker with a pole on steep stone steps below old stone arches on the path to Campione del Garda — The women of Prabione once walked this path to work four times a day.

View down the cliff to Campione del Garda with red roofs, Lake Garda, sailing boats and mountains — A hundred and fifty years ago there was still a cotton mill down there.

Steep view past an old riveted pipe with safety netting down to Campione and Lake Garda — On the right it goes down a long way, so I keep hold of the rope on the left.

Tunnel cut into the rock on the hiking path above Campione del Garda, safety netting at the exit — For a stretch the path goes through the mountain, smooth shoes on loose grit.

Old mossy stone wall above a still pool in the gorge near Campione, branches and rocks in front — Further up, a sign warns of flood waves from the dam above the gorge.

Hiker with a red backpack on a narrow metal bridge over the green gorge near Campione del Garda — “Everything that's beautiful is forbidden,” Manoel says along the way.

Waterfall over smooth rock into a clear green pool in the gorge above Campione del Garda — The pool is clear enough to show you exactly how deep it is.

Backpacker wading through a stream between large boulders in a gorge near Lake Garda — Cold enough to make the bones ache.

Hiker on a rock holding a rope above a dark green pool with a waterfall, gorge near Lake Garda — Just before the jump, the deep green right below.

Looking up out of the gorge between dark cliff walls to blue sky and a single white cloud — From the edge up there, we would look like toys down here.

Manoel with a ponytail and backpack on a slope above Lake Garda, sailing boats and mountains beyond — A short stop before the path drops again.

Manoel laughing in a checked shirt on a hiking path near Lake Garda, wooded slopes behind — More fun than in years, and it shows on both of us.