120 | March• 2019SWEPT AWAYSo, too, did the resort’s well-known
spa, adorned with Roman-style
frescoes, shimmering marble floors,
and burbling fountains. It attracted
Italian pop stars and celebrities;
George Clooney had even stayed there
in 2009. Wealthy holidaymakers paid
well to enjoy the mountains as if they
were theirs alone.
Inplentyofways,itwastrue.There
werenootherbuildingsforkilo-
metres.Theresortstoodjustinside
theGranSassoNationalPark,situ-
ated among sandstone peaks that,
for millions of years, have thrust
upwardsfromtheearth’scentre.
InJanuary2017,snowbegantofall
across the Gran Sasso. For days it
camedown,andtheenormousdrifts
ringing the Rigopiano grew taller by
the hour.FROM HIS HOMEin the suburbs of
Rome–about200kilometresaway
–GiampaoloMatronehadwatched
the weather with rising concern
overthetriphe’dbeenplanning.
Theovernightgetawaytoaspawas
supposedtobeatreatforhiswife,
Valentina Cicioni.
But now he wondered if they
should make the drive – and whether
themountainroadtothehotelwas
even open. Matrone phoned the
Rigopiano. Its owner, Roberto Del
Rosso, said Matrone simply needed
chains on his tyres.
“Tranquilo,” Del Ros so sa id. “It
won’t be a problem.”H
ewaspinnedinthe
darkness by the weight
of beams and walls, ice
and earth. His heart
sped with a sudden
terror.What happened? Where am I?
Laying on his stomach, he surveyed
what he could: his left leg had been
twisted and thrust forwards, so that
his foot rested near his cheek. He
could move his left arm, but his right
arm and leg were crushed beneath
something enormous. He realised
with horror that his chin rested on the
knee of a corpse. He tried to still the
panic, to recall the moments before
everything went dark.
Hehadbeenspeakingtohiswife.
Theywerestandinginadoorway.
Andthen:thewhistlinggustofwind;
thesenseoftumblingthroughspace;
thesoundsofcoughing,moaning,
then horrifying silence.Haditbeen
an earthquake?He called to his wife
but heard no answer. He thought
about their five-year-old daughter in
Rome. Then he heard voices, faint at
first but growing more distinct.
“Giampaolo? Giampaolo?” a
woman called. She was close. And she
was trapped here, too. “Are you alive?”
“I’malive,”heshouted.“I’m alive.”Isolated Splendour
Nestled on the flanks of Italy’s Apen-
nine Mountains – above the town of
Farindola – the Hotel Rigopiano had
never been easy to reach, but then, its
isolation only added to its appeal. PHOTO, PREVIOUS SPREAD: ALESSANDRO FALCO