The alarm goes off: I step out of the Torino and head down to the square, where everyone is lining up in front of St. Peter’s Basilica and a young woman is giving a speech for the opening of the Jubilee. Suddenly, the girl bursts out laughing, and I realize something’s wrong: the ropes—we don’t have the ropes! I tell Max to wait for me and go back to the shelter to get them. I walk past the house and the lights are on: my mom’s throwing a rave party! I wake up; another fifteen minutes and the alarm will go off. I dream about Max: better not to tell that story. The route starts by climbing up a gully of snow, dirt, and rocks where we manage to pass a couple of rope teams not particularly interested in climbing all the peaks (in fact, they’ll skip the first one). As soon as we tackle the Chaubert (or Schubert, as Max likes to call it), we’re last again; our chances of passing are almost nonexistent, so we switch to zen mode and accept our position. Ahead of us are only rope teams of guides and clients. The climb is long and arduous. The first pitch of the Isolee, covered in snow and ice, is the crowning glory. More easy mixed climbing, and we reach the summit—my second Tacul in a month, Max’s first ever. P.S. Why are they called the Aiguilles du Diable? For the report, I recommend checking out the Odyssee Montagne Italia blog.