Gran Sasso: an “alpicurian” skitrip

In my children’s room, I’ve hung a giant relief map of Europe. Every evening, when putting them to bed, I stretch out the lullaby while studying this vast network of valleys and peaks. Lately, my eyes have been drawn to the Apennines, that little-known mountain chain running through central Italy. For a Swiss skier, Italy usually means the Aosta Valley or the Dolomites. Spending a week between Rome and Naples therefore sounds more like a gastronomic stroll in the Abruzzo than a ski trip. So why not try to combine the two?

Ritornare all’essenziale
Planning a ski trip in the Apennines means going back in time. Even in 2025, the internet offers very little (and barely anything in English) about ski touring in the region. Ritornare all’essenziale: I order the Apennine ski bible in print. What a joy to flip through its pages! Given the weight of the book, one week won’t be enough to explore the area. So I’ll give myself ten days.

It’s February 2025. Finally, time to escape the holiday crowds in the Alps. With Nico Gendre, an old friend and “alpicurian” skier, it’s almost a tradition by now: while the Swiss Alps are packed this time of year, we slip away to some forgotten corner of Europe’s mountains—chasing adventure, good food, and, with some luck, a few lines of powder.

I suggest to my friend Paolo Woods, photographer and investigative journalist, that he join us for a few days. He lives in Florence, and on the map the Gran Sasso looks just around the corner.

After several hours on the train, we arrive at Roma Termini with our ski bag. We rent a car and head to the small resort of Prati di Tivo. A few photos online had whetted our appetite: chairlifts, wide snowy slopes… everything looked promising.

At the top of a winding road, the owners of a hotel welcome us warmly. Think The Shining—a Soviet-style building, mainly hosting ecumenical camps. At first sight, it looks like no skiers have been here for a long while. Strange.

Spremuta e polenta
The next morning we understand why: Prati di Tivo has been closed for several winters, mainly due to the costs of avalanche control. Spremuta, cappuccino e cornetto, then we stick skins on our skis and play hide-and-seek with the sea of fog, drifting up and down. The scenery is breathtaking. The Gran Sasso range easily rivals its Alpine sister. Alone in our valley, we spot a few enticing couloirs for the coming days, happy to be here, far from it all. We’ve found exactly what we came for: no one around, quality powder, and a delicious polenta con funghi porcini.

Still, the voice of our friend Maurizio Fellici, a mountain guide, rings in my head:
“You’ll see, guys—it’s not the Alps here. In five minutes the wind and bad weather can roll in without warning!”

Bingo. Midway up a sunny climb, we are suddenly engulfed in thick fog. Beaten down by a fierce headwind, we reach the observatory of Campo Imperatore, just above the sea of cloud. For a moment, I feel as if I’ve been teleported to the high plateaus of Central Asia.

These few days of wintery conditions let us discover the region—or rather, fall under its spell. The desire to return later in the season, when the snow softens and the birds sing, is now undeniable. Don’t tell anyone, but the numerous bivouacs make the Gran Sasso a perfect playground for self-sufficient adventure, a chance to get lost in unspoiled nature, far from Alpine crowds.

See you soon in the Abruzzo!

Arnaud Cottet

Shot by Paolo Woods