The Sibillini Mountains are changing. Autumn arrives decisively: the meadows turn amber, the first snows dust the peaks, the air becomes sharper. The noise disappears, only the wind and the rhythm of footsteps remain.
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A story by: Riccardo Olivieri
From Castelluccio to Palazzo Borghese
From the Castelluccio plateau, the climb to Palazzo Borghese (2,145 m) begins, passing by Capanna Ghezzi. The trail climbs steadily, and every bend offers a different view: the plateau to the south, the ridges to the west, the clouds rushing past. At the summit, the sunset is a pure spectacle, the shadows of the mountains stretching toward the Marche hills and all the way to the coast, while the light fades, coloring everything gold and purple. Remaining in silence for a few minutes up there, before descending toward Castelluccio, is like stopping time. The descent takes place in the dim light, amidst the rising cold and the light fading behind Vettore.
Towards the Redentore
The night in the village is cold but welcoming. A dinner of local produce, a roaring fire, and silence outside. Then the clear dawn, rekindling the Redentore peaks. It’s the call of the next day.
From Forca di Presta, climb back up towards the Zilioli Refuge, following the direct trail that climbs steeply upward. A short stop at the bivouac, then continue to Cima di Prato Pulito and follow the ridge line to Monte Redentore (2,448 m).
“Every step is a change of perspective, every gust of wind raises a puff of snow, shifts the light and redraws the profiles of the mountains.”
The wind never lets up; at high altitude, it has already created the characteristic snow waves on the cornices. From up there, the panorama is breathtaking: Lake Pilato opens up beneath the steep walls of the eastern slope, nestled among the scree slopes, while on the opposite side, the Castelluccio plateau stretches out, wide and clear, with its geometric lines and the warm hues of autumn grass. Walking along the Redentore ridge means moving between two worlds: on one side, the vertical void of the lake, on the other, the softness of the plateau. Every step is a shift in perspective, every gust of wind raises a puff of snow, shifts the light, and redraws the mountain profiles.
Below, the landscape remains still. Above, the light continues to change. This is the rhythm of the Sibillini Mountains in autumn: essential, silent, authentic.
