Ascent report by Fritz Miller: «Via Pesche e Mele» on the Poncione d'Alnasca (530 m, A4+, 6c)

Valle Verzasca, Switzerland, April 26, 2025. There we stand, tilting our heads back and gazing upwards in some disbelief. 1.700 meters above us, the peak of this gigantic tooth rises into the sky. Its nearly 500-meter-high, overhanging south face is considered the queen of Ticino's rock faces. All its routes are challenging and require exceptional effort. "Via Pesche e Mele," the route we've chosen, is the most difficult from an alpinist's perspective. It's also probably the most dangerous.

A guest article by Fritz Miller – alpinist and mountain guide

We shoulder our haul bags, weighing a good 30 kg, and set off. At first, the path is still maintained, later it becomes a trail, and at some point it continues without a path. Sections are exposed and unforgiving. It's about 1.300 meters of elevation gain to the base of the wall. What we're laboriously working for here isn't just access to a climbing goal; it's the isolation and solitude of the mountains—that's what makes it extraordinary.

Although climbing and mountaineering are extremely multifaceted, degrees of difficulty and records seem to dominate the scene. In contrast, there is adventure. It follows no rules and cannot be expressed in numbers. But the essence of adventure is not least its uncertain outcome - and I have to face this reality. It was not just since the birth of my daughter that two hearts have beat in my chest, often in competition with each other. One wants to hold me back, the other - which prevailed this time - drives me on. We traverse towards the start, through a field full of rubble, craters and uprooted vegetation. It looks as if not only a rockfall but also an avalanche has hit the right, somewhat flatter section of the wall.

The long road to the wall

This adventure did not begin with packing the equipment, the journey to Tessin, or the approach to the wall. It began in our minds many years ago and became more concrete over time. The paths of David, my young climbing partner, and I have crossed many times in the past. We finally joined forces for this project. There aren't many climbers in the Alps with the skill and motivation to attempt this route. It's been 20 years since its first ascent. It's most likely only been repeated once since then, in the summer of 2023 by two young climbers from German-speaking Switzerland.

Of course, it would have been better to spend the first night at the idyllic "Scorpio Bivouac," which is a safe distance from the wall. Instead, we set up our portaledge camp at the base of the wall. Rain is forecast for the night. An approach over wet ground seemed riskier than bivouac at the base of the wall. Here, in the left section, the wall overhangs slightly, so we feel safe. The start of the route is just a few meters to our side. We want to climb and fix the first pitch today. We draw lots to decide who will lead first. I get the first pitch. 45 meters at grade A1 – no difficult task. But in reality, this pitch is no easy task, and I realize that I'm tired after the last, practically sleepless night at home.

The day is slowly drawing to a close. We sit in the grass in front of the portaledge and gaze at the snow-capped mountains. Waterfalls rush in the distance. These moments of peace and quiet are priceless to me. Could I get them any easier? Certainly not with this intensity. Meanwhile, the dark clouds are drawing ever closer. The first drops of rain bring me back to reality. We crawl into the portaledge, which, with its innovative, angular tent roof, looks like a tiny bivouac box stuck to the wall. Now we're cramped on this rickety bunk, and yet I'm about to sleep more deeply and soundly than I have in a long time.

Day two – in the footsteps of Marco Pedrini

The day begins rainy and gloomy. We finally start the wall in the late morning. The goal is to fix two more pitches in the afternoon, then head back down to the base of the wall. I'm not satisfied with what I did yesterday and want to do better today. The second pitch follows: 50 m, A3+. The technical climbing is graded according to the New Wave scale. This ranges from A0 to A5 and is much stricter than the traditional aid rating. Leading a long pitch in the A3 range typically takes two to three hours. And if you make a mistake, long falls with several breaking anchor points are realisticAfter just a few moves, things get complicated. I place a hook in a shallow hole, climb higher, and wonder how to proceed. Suddenly, the hook slips from its placement, and I fall into the hook below. Now we're awake.

The first one and a half pitches follow an attempt by Marco Pedrini, who climbed to the top of the mountain in the early 80s. Pedrini, born in Lugano in 1958, was one of the strongest alpine climbers of his time. In 1985, he made the first solo ascent of the Cerro TorreIn 1986, he made the first solo ascent of the difficult "Directe Américaine" on the Aiguille du Dru. He died on the descent at the age of just 28. A broken abseil was probably his downfall. Now I'm hanging from his last bolt, a rusty ring bolt, along with a rope dummy torn by wind and weather. He probably wanted to come back, someday... I cut the rope and throw it down the wall, intending to take it to the Scorpio bivouac later.

Nichts fur schwache Nerven

A few cliff moves later, this route truly begins. I'm dangling freely from the roof, hanging from the smallest hook. From this position, I stretch to the edge of the roof, where I can place a total of three rather meager pitons. Above that, the wall is incredibly smooth. This is followed by a passage of "bat hooks," 6 mm drilled holes into which the smallest hooks can be placed. Using this special technique, the route overcomes smooth sections of the wall without any natural structures. The small holes lead right-keeping to a flake that leads horizontally to the right for a good three meters, to the next belay station. I place another piton, climb up my ladder, and search the smooth rock slab for the next drilled hole – but can't find one. At some point, above me on my left, contrary to the logical direction, I spot a small ledge. Were the first ascents really crazy enough to get involved in this game?

The route was first ascended in June 2005 by the Valais mountain guides Lars Hofer and Andy Schnarf. Hofer made a name for himself as a pioneer of hard techno and big wall routes and was the driving force behind this first ascent. It can be assumed that he had strong nerves. Schnarf climbed with Thomas Huber in the Cerro Torre group as a young man, and later he was involved several times with Stephan Siegrist on expedition. When I contacted him years ago, he wrote that this route was tattooed on his soul. It's not unlikely, then, that they chose this detour to minimize the need to use the drill.

I place two small hooks on the ledge—two is better than one, as the saying goes. Then I forcefully kick my leg into the ladder to test the placement. It seems to hold. I carefully place weight on the ladder and climb up with steady movements. Above me on the left is a 10 cm wide, flat ledge. I place two large hooks on it, test them carefully, and then climb up the ladder at a snail's pace.

The higher you go, the more unstable the whole thing becomes. One wrong move, and the hooks would slip off the ledge. Above me, everything is smooth, but the slab is slightly inclined, so it should be possible to climb onto the ledge. If that goes wrong, there would be a fun flight through the Ticino mountains – provided the hooks on the roof edge holdOtherwise, I'd have the bombshell of my life. Did the first ascents really pull it off? And what about Malte, who was able to repeat the route with his brother? I've never met him, only seen a picture of him. A laid-back guy, I'd say, with a certain amount of madness written all over his face. In short, I certainly believe they're capable...

Eventually, I overcome myself and climb onto the ledge, from which there's no way forward or backward. At least now I know I've drifted. I have no choice but to pull up the drill and drill two bat hooks to get back to the route. Fortunately, the rest of the pitch isn't so bad, and after another, easier pitch, we reach the large grassy ledge, which runs a good 100 meters above the ground. We secure the ropes and rappel down to our camp at the base of the wall.   

Day three – things are getting serious

The night brought more rain, and meltwater is also running down the wall. The fourth pitch is also wet in the morning. It runs along the reddish slab above the grass ledge and is rated A5 in the climbing guidebook. Based on this rating, it's safe to assume that the anchors on this pitch wouldn't hold a fall. Starting in the wet would be madness. If we're lucky, the slab will be dry by midday. If not, it might be a sign that we have no assignment here. For me, two things matter: being here and getting home safely. Whether or not I can repeat the climb is secondary.

David goes back to the stream to refill the water bottles. Then we break camp and pack the haul bags. I'm not really focused and it takes forever to get everything done. In my mind, I'm already stuck on the fourth pitch. But first, we have to climb up our ropes and pull up the haul bags. Around midday, we reach the third belay. The wall above looks dry. I feel ready, calm, and focused. Let's go.

A few meters of free climbing on hollow flakes, then a traverse to the right on surprisingly good cams to a solid copperhead. Now, keeping left, I continue on poor anchors and bat hooks to a fine flake. Finally, more bat hooks in a smooth slab. It takes me just under three hours to climb this 35-meter-long, brilliant pitch. Happy and relieved, I reach the belay. Now we're in the race! We manage two more, similarly challenging pitches by evening. Then we rappel down to the grass ledge after the third pitch, where we plan to set up the portaledge. It is now dark and my head is completely empty after this mentally demanding day.

Day four – rollercoaster of emotions

Today, David is leading the way. He quickly ascends the fixed ropes, pulling the haul bags behind him. At the 6th belay, we take another break. David prepares for the upcoming 60-meter pitch in area A4. A few moderate meters lead to the aesthetically curved "Banana Crack." This is followed by a small roof, then a smooth slab with bat hooks, and finally a long flake, which, however, offers mostly poor placements. David will need over four and a half hours for the 7th pitch. While he fights his way up meter by meter, I enjoy the time at the belay station. This slowing down has something healing about it, and I feel really good. The panorama is magnificent. We are now so high that the view extends all the way to the Monte Rosa Massif The higher we get, the more the white peaks of the Valais Alps become visible.

An awkward hanging belay marks the end of the 7th pitch. There are still 20 meters to the big ledge. The bad weather is clearly approaching. David accelerates, soon reaches the ledge, and immediately begins hauling. The sky darkens, a thunderstorm moves through. While cleaning, I notice that the anchors David has set are all quite windy. The lead climb on the 7th pitch seems to have left its markWill he be able to do the next length? It would be important that we fix that today...

By the time I reach the ledge, it's already raining, and shortly after, it's hailing. Although we're somewhat protected by the rock canopies above us, it's now cold and uncomfortable on the wall. We wait and see. The next pitch doesn't look particularly inviting. It climbs over a ridge of roofs and finally traverses almost 10 meters to the right. Again, roughly A4, but this time over a wide, overhanging ledge.

And once again: doubt

We could call it a day, but that would jeopardize our entire plan. We might end up running out of time. I decide to give it a try. The first placement above the belay is an old copperhead, and I'm allowed to tinker above it. As I unravel my hammer line, my rope knife detaches from my harness and disappears into the depths. It has accompanied me on all my trips for 20 years. It feels like a bad omen. I force myself to block out all negative emotions and work my way up.

This ninth pitch is the most demanding and dangerous of the entire route so far. The anchors are poor, the rock is questionable, and orientation is once again difficult. I reach the belay station completely empty-handed. Now I have to retrace my steps, remove unnecessary anchors, and install a fixed rope. The rope runs over sharp rock edges several times, which mentally destroys me. By the time I reach the bivouac band, it's almost dark. David pulls me to the belay station, as I'm hanging freely in the air. In the meantime, he's already set up the portaledge, so luckily I don't have to do much more.

The night is clear. We see the lights in the valley. I imagine someone below, seeing our lamps and wondering what we're doing up here. I couldn't give them a clever answer. I'm not running away from my life. I can't take credit for risking my family's happiness here. But I still want to be here, on the wall, desperately. For me, this is about more than climbing or achieving an alpinist goal. It seems like I need to get so far away from normal life to get a clear view of it. To realize what really matters. 

Day five – the final

A quick breakfast in the portaledge, sorting our gear, and setting off as early as possible. Our plan is to leave the portaledge camp here, climb to the summit, and then return to camp. A hiking trail leads from the summit down into the Verzasca Valley, which is generally the best descent option. However, there's still too much snow on the north side for this option, so we plan to abseil down the wall. David starts the ascent on the fixed rope, and I follow a little later, removing the last few intermediate anchors—not a difficult exercise in itself, but the depth is exhausting, and I'm not mentally recovered yet. I'm glad it's David's turn to lead. On paper, the last three pitches don't look so dramatic, but my gut feeling tells me that nothing has been decided yet.

This is followed by a 60-meter pitch graded A1 and 6b, with poor protection. The rock, of course, isn't climbed down, and all the hardware on the harness doesn't make free climbing any easier. Then pitch 11: 60 meters, 6c, and A2. The climbing is hard and extremely tricky, and the upper part of the pitch is wet. I can only hope that this will somehow work out. At some point, David reaches the belay. I take a deep breath. Suddenly, the exit of the route is within reach. The last pitch, 45 meters, 6b. It starts off easy-going, then continues on exposed rock that's not entirely reliable. "Keep cool" is written in the topo...

We reach the summit around 17:00 p.m. The sun is shining, everything is quiet and peaceful. It feels unreal to be standing up here now. We take our time at the summit. But we're aware that our journey isn't over yet. We descend to the last belay station, followed by several challenging abseils. Late in the evening, we reach our portaledge. One last night on the wall.

Day six – Farewell

I'm looking forward to going home and at the same time a little sad that we're leaving this place. After a minimalist breakfast, we pack everything. The haul bags are, of course, much too heavy to be carried on our backs while abseiling. We therefore proceed as follows: David abseils down on the single rope. At the same time, I lower the haul bags with the haul rope. Once we reach the belay, David pulls the haul bags towards him with a third, shorter rope. Then I abseil down on the single rope and haul rope. With this technique, plus some swinging and traversing, we reach the base of the wall without any problems, where we repack again for the long descent into the Verzasca Valley. But first we search the base of the wall and find my knife again!

Descent. Little by little, we approach the valley. The world down there is different. I realize that the transition won't be easy. This wall won't let me go anytime soon, and I think a part of me will stay here.

Text: Fritz Miller, July 2025

Route information Via Pesche e Mele

1. Inspection: Lars Hofer, Andy Schnarf, June 09-18.06.2005, XNUMX

1. Repetition (if known): Malte Leibinger, Calvin Leibinger, August 28.08th - September 03.09.2023rd, XNUMX

2. Repetition (if known): Fritz Miller, David Schneider, April 26.04th - May 01.05.2025st, XNUMX

Our rating of the pitches

• SL1: 45 m, A1-2 (Route Himmelsfinger)
• SL2: 50 m, A3+
• SL3: 40 m, A2, 3-4
• SL4: 35 m, A4
• SL5: 40 m, A4-
• SL6: 30 m, A4-, 4a
• SL7: 60 m, A4-
• Pitch 8: 20 m, A2, 4a
• Pitch 9: 45 m, A4+, 3-4 (depending on the variant, also significantly more difficult free climbing)
• Pitch 10: 60 m, 6b, A1
• Pitch 11: 60 m, 6c, A2
• Pitch 12: 45 m, 6b

Note on abseiling from the 9th station to the 8th station

Bear left to the bolt just above the roof edge. Clip it, then overhang to the ledge. A very challenging abseil! Traverse back along the ledge to the 8th belay. The total is 35 m.

Note: The bolt was drilled by us, off-route, and is not visible from the route.

Material used in Via Pesche e Mele

• 3 sets of cams up to #3, 1-2 x #4 (totems and offset cams recommended)
• Cam #5 and #6 are not needed
• Wedges, ball nuts and small Tricams are helpful here and there
• 15 Beaks + solid selection of Knifeblades, Lost Arrows and Profile Hooks
• Small selection of heads
• Various hooks, especially BD Talons and Grappling Hooks
• A good handful of energy absorbers
• 70 m ropes are recommended for more options when securing, abseiling, etc.

The history of the route name

While transporting equipment to the wall, the first ascents rescued a goat from a crevice near the "Scorpio Bivouac." Andy abseiled down to the goat and put a harness on it (after being attacked at first...). This allowed the animal to be pulled out of the crevice. As a thank you, the Alpine farmer gave the two a piece of cheese and a jar of homemade Pesche e Mele jam.

That might interest you

• "The highlight of my career" | David Göttler's Climb & Fly on Nanga Parbat – Lacrux Climbing Magazine
• Ultralight climbing harness tested: Petzl Whisper – Lacrux Climbing Magazine
• Babsi Zangerl is the second woman to receive the Paul Preuss Prize – Lacrux Climbing Magazine

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Photo credits: Fritz Miller and David Schneider