Sein und Zeit. Retro-Tour IIa: 3. Sella Nevea, Friaul, 6.1.2006 Back to tour’s overview.Back to precedent day: 2. Sappada, Venetien, 5.1.2006.‚Time’... what is ‚Time’? It passes, yet barely is perceptible, stands still, yet flows away unseen… another drive, another nameless road, the lack of sleep lets me drift away into the demimondes of apparitional daydreams again and again .. I lean against the car’s cold window pane, movielike pass the grey cold wasted lands outside, still, barely I perceive… derelict, halfly abandoned villages, comfortless as only January can render them… what are we doing here? Shadows these lands are at best, if even. In autumn once before I crossed Friuli, yet already then little I knew to appreciate those lands, its virgity alone, its scenic primitive state may possibly add them zest.. but those desolate, futureless localities, whom they might attract? Old mining towns, long ago surrendered to an ailing decay, hopelessness and tristesse speaks out of every stone, wall or home. What might it be that renders life in here worthwile? Or is it simply just too late now still to leave?
Eventually we reach a wide valley; a broad stream, grey structures of one of the hideous arteries of our european economy: foul dismally winds the Autostrada's long band from Villach to Udine its way over endless viaducts through Val Canale, which at this time of the year also offers nothing but desolation. Abandoned homes, torn facades, ruins beyond hope or revitalisation. Somewhere in this grey nothingness a small inconspicuous road branches off into a narrow canyon, a rusty marker leads the way alone: Sella Nevea!
Were you once hope then to these lands? Should you have saved, what never was to save? Was it to you, to bring back vital funds back in this waste, to which the mining’s downfall once was fatal? Who are you? ... thus remote from the world, in borderlands… Which men should have arrived to holiday? Whom you wished to allure, back in 1968, with your artificially implanted futuristic concrete buildings into this forlorn corner of the world? Austria’s metropoles are far, Germany even further, aloof all routes crossing remaining Italy… how can a place be thus remote as this…
The road is old – old, narrow, almost haunting. No villages, no homes, no infrastructure. No one lives in this gorge, there is only the road – and a huge rusted pipeline elevated on withered concrete pillars, mounted to the rocks. Emptiness dominates this world, who drives into these borderlands, where might this road be heading to? A deserted pass height, far off grown civilisation… who uses this route? Possibly the gate was formerly the only way into the north, when Val Canale valley still was impassable with all its numberless ravines and no grey concrete band followed its windings? But these days? The road leads into nothingness, into the middle of the waste. Nothing is there to induce one to come up here into the borderland, nothing that would constitute an appeal to follow the arduous road a thousand meters up to the end of the world. Milelong it winds through the canyon without passing any sign of human presence. At the end lies the lonely pass height, beyond yet just another wasted deserted and forgotten valley – and in between the relic, the station: Sella Nevea.
What are you? Skiing resort? Holiday residence? A place, where people would wish to enjoy their precious leisure time? Thus utopian this complex, thus remote the place, difficult to believe it once was built to bring up men into this godforsaken zone! Gigantic bands of concrete standing in the middle of the wasteland, decrepit and somehow dead – witnesses and memorials of an extinguished touristic dream. Do lie buried in these caskets of withered concrete the former hopes for economical recovery? Does lie there in the old groundings the grave of the euphoria, that men let once create these monuments which should have prised and heralded modernism? I do not know, yet do I almost fear it is. Since the opening in the year of 1968 the infracture in total has remained nearly unchanged, thirty-five years later all gain sufficed alone to replace to old draglifts by a few meters long chairlift. This – and nothing more – is the entire touristic development of Sella Nevea since its birth, this alone is the balance sheet of all those years which let 1968 become past. There is no connection to the skiing area on the slovenian slopes as projected since decades, no „Skiing Region Canin“, no extensions as once thought of, nothing. It ever remained 1968 at this forgotten place, only that the concrete, the paint, the facades did non resist this passing time. Thus they advanced to sombre memorials, monuments of a crestfallen and forgotten dream…
The ambiance is gloomy up here, the anonymous buildings, in which men are rarely seen, emphasize this. And still, this place is fascinating likewise. Who, alike me, can show some love towards that melancholy, does find already in the mood this place induces something special. The lands around the Canin Range are of a stunning beauty; stunningly lonely, stunnigly abandoned, stunningly untouched… the station marks the counterpoint, the extinct hope speaking out of it contrasts fascinatingly the fairy surroundings.
Also this station is – similar to Marilleva in Val di Sole – one of the rare still authentic paradigms for the concept and idea behind these vanguard designs of a bygone era. Everything remains in its original state until today, never there was the necessary funding to apply modifications, alterations or renovations, out of every facade, any accessoir, any relic speaks the past – reminiscence is what only was remaining to this place. And also this may show its appeal: He who has a look for all such things may well discover a lot down in these streets! Sella Nevea is a very special place and as such worth of visiting. It may not be compared to the eyesores of the French High Alps, it remained compulsorily conserved in its original state. No new chalets in pseudo-tyrolean style were implanted in between the blocks, no new large capacity basement garages were built, wood panelled and nicely outside the station; there is no large tourist’s center featuring wlan hotspots and neither is there a chapel imitation. Just a handful of gigantic concrete blocks, a withered but beautiful Ceretti e Tanfani cable-car and some, meanwhile slightly renovated Marchisio draglifts are standing here. In the restaurants still the original furnishings will be found, which evoke thoughts of classic spionage thrillers featuring Alain Delon; the reddish orange varnish on all metal, once so characteristic for the era, it shows here, too; the raw concrete, formerly representing art and culture, it was never changed.
First view out of the canyon on the slopes of Sella Nevea – cable-car and ski run.
Morbid impressions…
‚Topsound Discoteca’... another relic… whether it may open still its gates? Would her walls remember their younger days, the sound of Led Zeppelin, The Grateful Dead and Pink Floyd... ? How could this skiing area ever survive? In effect, there is as sole attractive ski-run the long descent back down to the valley. Passing the towering, dolomite-like rock walls it winds through a wild romantic landscape back to the station. Aloft however, where the new chairlift replaced two former draglifts, exist exclusively two cat-tracks and an extremely short, completely flat ski piste. Close to the resort two further, pretty short draglifts with overgrown tracing and likewise entirely trivial slopes, a final draglift eventually at the pass’s top, not to be reached by the remaining skiing area. Who travels hither then to holiday? Few will like us, who all time we are on lookout for such special places, find the extremely long way up here just due to these subtle particularities… actually this station should have been doomed to end as ruin of a failed dream. However, it did not, even if crowded might be exaggerated, deserted it is neither. A mystery – at least to me.
Possibly better it may look in case the union with the slovenean Canin Skiing Area will be eventually realised at last. Projected since decades is to connect up to the slopes beyond the slovenean border by construction of a chairlift on Sella Prevala, situated above the highest point of the actual skiing area. Currently this idea even seems to have advanced again within close reach: on slovenean side a new installation – a fixed grip quad chair – has been constructed, which there allows connection to the already existing equipment. On italian side meanwhile the impressive high valley remains entirely undeveloped until today. We are going to cross it on trekking skis tomorrow and thus to anticipate the projected connection, to get to know the slovenean skiing area. There we are going to meet Miki, who with his dreamlike, almost romantic summer images of the slovenean face of Canin Range aroused my affection for these terrific, nearly westalpine mountains. Should Italians finally manage to eventually construct the last missing lift towards Sella Prevala, an absorbing, scenically extremely appealing and thoroughly diversified skiing area would be born. Meanwhile at least exclusively the skiing region of Sella Neva alone being looked at from the sportman’s point of view for sure is not worth the long journey. However, it is the particularities we are looking for, that, what is not mundane. Style, ambiance, the atmosphere on-site – all this rewards for the lack of diversification and vastness at present.
Following our arrival we take an extent visit of the place, afterwards we pack the most necessary equipment in our backpacks: as domicile once more serves a refuge, the Rifugio Gilberti located at the most elevated spot of the skiing area. Barring the wonderful experience to spend a night in the high mountains far apart of civilisation, and regardless of the special ambience and the specific clientele up here, this allows us likewise to save the costs for another ski pass the following day. Departing from there enables us to climb directly to Slovenia, without being in the need of any further Italian lifts, on the contrary a beautiful long freeride descent will – apart from the last short counter slope – reward us for the matutinal climb while returning.
Parking area close to the cable car’s valley station. In the backround some of the concrete colosses and the beginner’s area.
Impressions of another monument: the old C&T valley station in Sella Nevea.
Cabins have been replaces some years ago. A change in style, albeit not the gravest that could have occurred.
Rifugio Gilberti. The skiing day at Sella Nevea in general rather shows unspectacular. Following a couple of beautiful descents back to the valley - the extreme amount of snow crowns the wildromantic scenery - we also get a look on the draglifts close to the station. Being some of the very last survivors of the brand 'Marchisio' they, too, constituted a reason for our journey. Recently CCM renovated the installations, while leaving them likewise very authentic though. The overgrown tracings add their part to the ambience, the two short slopes however are extremly unspectacular.
The newly constructed chairlift - the lapse of the two draglifts only increased the number of cat-tracks...
Ferroconrete, braving the polar waste of this artic desert: Arrival of the Funivia Monte Canin.
Beautiful romantic, dolomite-like run back to Sella Nevea, lacking the crowded mass traffic of its south-tyrolean equivalent.
Restored, but authentic and very rare Marchisio draglifts.Due to my somehow weak state - I feel a cold comming down - and to my extreme fatigue I leave the others. I then dander still a bit around the place, note and examine the one or other relic of former architecture and eventually rather soon find my way back up the refuge. A brief change of skiing boots into mountain boots, some more comfortable clothes, then I part again to enjoy the evening.
Some more impressions of the station.Arriving with very last chair, actually quiet a long time after the closing hour, Gerrit and k2k eventually reach the small upheaval. Gerrit assures everyone's joy by loosing a glove (or ski stick?) in the deep snow at the exit point shortly before arrival at the station. The attempt to recover it from the station's platform, to which the huge amounts of snow reach up, while meanwhile the lift is stopped, leads to a Titanic-like drown of Gerrit in the white endless sea, causing certain efforts to free him of this awkward situation. Pity enough, there is non of these cute Saint Bernhard rescue dogs passing, so that we have to cope without a tasty rum firkin. Instead we set off and return.
After having discussed our tomorrow's route to climb with our host and having had a small chat about the history of summer skiing in Sella Nevea - there used to be to short rope lifts on an ice field in the shadowy bottom of the valley below Sella Prevala - follows a rustical, rich and tasty meal. Apart from us few guests stay up here, I enjoy the silence. The still young evening motivates us to part for a short nighttime stroll. Thus little later we stand again at the chairlift's station, which can be inspected extensively at this oppurtunity.
The nocturnal vast white scenery in full moon's light, this, too, a fairy-like dream. As the ice-crowned peaks gleam mildly in this icy light and while besides the refuge and the station there is no source of light far and wide upon the slopes, the powerful artificial light of the ski station far below illuminates the low clouds from beneath! What a scene! Hours of nighttime in mountains aloft keep many miracles and beauties for the open eye of the beholder... I wished so much to be up here more often! These quiet vast lands in the cold moon's light - I could enjoy them eternally. The silence up here, the calm pulse in my veins, a whole year long I live on such memories in my otherwise so passionately restless life. Rest and sleep, I find them here, in the refuge's small attic, at the end of this world, which though in here is so much fairer than in all its centre's rush - here, in the far corner of the Alps, in italian-slovenean borderlands. What is, then fades, what stays, gives strength... as ever matters solely one: Being and Time.
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