Snow report Presanella, 03/20/2026

Snow condition

With 30 to 50 centimetres of fresh snow, we were able to set off on skis from Stavel at 1273 m. The snow conditions are good and allow the tour, even if the summit ridge and the gully below the hut would have deserved even more snow.

Snow quality

The higher you got, the more the snow was wind-pressed or packed. And the lower you got, the deeper and more powdery the snow became.

Overall impression

Day 0: The destination of the "Presanella" was put in my head by my friend Cristian, who does glacier observations in Lombardy, and my feeling was that it was just the right tour, in search of high alpine adventure. We, that's me, Sebastian, a meteorologist and ski tourer, and Chris, a psychologist and ski mountaineer, an old friend. Then, considering the conditions, it seemed ambitious and risky in terms of the avalanche situation. But with an avalanche warning level of 3, there were no safe alternatives in the area. The approach begins at 1300m in Stavel via the summer path, and then runs over an exposed rocky ridge to the Rifugio Denza, 2300m. Our primary source of information, Skitourenguru, signaled 3 key points here. I am always in favor of trying, which always includes the greatest alpinistic art of turning back. We stuck to the idea. Day 1: 10am arrival in Stavel, not at the starting point indicated by Skitourenguru because it's probably not yet accessible by car. Nevertheless, we would recommend it if at all possible. We then met the local Giordano, whom we first asked for a parking space, then for information and finally for a telephone number. We found the parking space in Giordano's yard and packed our backpacks. We were equipped for 3 days off-grid with rope, ice axe, stove and everything. Heavy backpacks, but we were able to set off on skis straight away. The information from Giordano was all positive, even if we couldn't attribute any great expertise to him. The ascent first goes flat through the valley, then through the forest, up the lift track of the material cable car to Refugio Denza, and we walked and tracked through 30 centimetres and more of fresh snow. On the summer trail, we climbed through the rock bar on a wooden staircase. We tracked deep through some very steep terrain, but it went quite well and even on the stairs we didn't have to take off our skis. Then we continued along the summer path, but there was a second rock ledge and we lost the summer path and tracked through even steeper terrain. We found the way out and were on the high plateau - the view of the Presanella and Vermiglia opened up to us again. Now we had to find the connection to the route, which is an old mule track from the First World War. It was 4 p.m., we were slow and realized that my headlamp had no battery. We spurred on anyway through another steep section and finally reached the route, the mule track, which was pleasantly wide but equally snowy. We still had 2 cruxes to negotiate, exposed avalanche chutes, but we considered the stability of the eastern slopes to be very favorable in the late afternoon and decided that a frontal slab would be enough. The first crux runs above the rock bar and consists of 2 exposed passages - no fall zones. I track the first one, easy. When I arrived at the second, a gully where an avalanche had already occurred, my adrenaline kicked in and I suggested using crampons. Chris looked at the spot and, as an alpinist, he suggested a foot march and ice axe. So he tracked deep and I followed - easy and safe too, after all. We continued to follow the hare tracks in the snow along the mule track and it was now dark, with only the starry sky shining magnificently. How can you describe the last hour? We stayed quiet, I had attached the sparkle of my cell phone to my pole with a ski strap, and we tracked our way up until suddenly the hut appeared and the bivouac was open. Huge relief, what a mission, day 1, 9 hour hut climb. We could find no fault in our decision-making processes, both in assessment and reaction, and cooked and before we went to bed we were delighted to learn that the avalanche warning level had dropped to 2. For the rest of the tour, we would hardly have to take any avalanche risk up to Forcella Cercen at 3000m if we chose the right route. The Freshfield saddle at 3370m seemed to us to be the ideal destination, the summit of the Presanella itself was just a dream destination. Day 2: A good night's sleep, hot chocolate and bread for breakfast, still following the snow hare tracks in our frozen ski boots. But we continue to ski deep and only then do you realize how exhausting it is. The stability, despite the influence of the wind, seemed favorable to us and according to the LLB. We reached the slope above the glacier, with the Presanella with hanging glacier and Vermiglia in front of us, a dream of a sight. We crossed on a slightly south-facing slope - and immediately the heat stress became extreme. It's unbelievable how heat and cold can alternate at these altitudes over snow and in clear conditions. The glacier flows down through two channels, the wider of which would be the ideal ski tour. In view of our exposed position - we were alone in this valley and only Totti, Marc and Giorgano knew about us - we couldn't take any risks. So, we went the long way, the summer path, on flat terrain, without any avalanche risk. Eventually, I shied away from a traverse to the main glacier and we were walking across the Monte Cercen glacier, on a rope, when an eerie hissing sound startled us. Chris said it was a jet plane, but I think it came from the glacier. We are still in disagreement about this. Avoiding the traverse, we had 50m too much when we left the Cercen glacier. We took off the rope, skinned down, had a sweet treat, and headed down to the Presanella glacier. There is an ascent line on this huge slope which, consistent with my interpretation of the terrain, proved to be the safest. There was certainly wind influence, but I couldn't imagine an avalanche on this slope, and if so, only of apocalyptic dimensions. We had seen wet chutes below 2300 meters in the gullies, but otherwise we had not observed any avalanche activity or danger signs. Once on the glacier I was convinced that we could do this, and Chris agrees with me. The snowpack was extremely inhomogeneous, with blown-in and pressed snow alternating every 10 meters. We ended up using crampons. We overcame the steep section of the glacier, 50 m up in terrain that was around 35 degrees steep, and we had the Freshfield gap in sight. The mountain air weighed heavily on our shoulders. We reached our destination at around 15:30, after 7 hours. By the time we reached the ridge, it was clear that our fitness and sunlight would not be enough to reach the summit. That would have meant a descent by via ferrata, traverse and then ridge walk, which would have been extra difficult anyway in this rather snow-poor winter. That didn't dampen our temporary happiness one bit. We ate, rested and got ready for the descent. The descent over the uppermost part of the glacier was not unclouded due to the influence of the wind, but it wasn't bad either. We then took the steeper glacier tongue, which we had avoided on the ascent. We had set ourselves a safe checkpoint there. The snow got better and better, and we skied down to the glacier with relish. We skinned up and returned to our ascent route out of the glacier. The last slope was finally just powder heaven. We reached our bivouac safe and happy. The descent into the valley tomorrow, following a GPX track, would cross the rock bar below the hut, thus avoiding the exposed traverse of the ascent route. I thought to myself in the evening in front of the hut whether we shouldn't follow our ascent tracks, but maximum safety was the top priority. Finally, happy birthday, Sebastian! We celebrated with instant noodle soup "Nongshin fest. MayFay" in melted snow, and found many hours of blissful sleep in the beds. Day 3: We had breakfast of hot chocolate and bread, leaving a donation and the bivouac cleaner than we had found it. We then visited the chapel and remembered the many who are immortalized in it, some of whom died in accidents on the Presanella. We followed this GPX track... Crossing forever until we could finally reach this rock bar. We should have skinned up to reach this gully more easily or perhaps even with a nice descent. But eventually we reached the start. My first impression at the sight of the steep step with blue ice was - f**k, no way. But we saw two small larches in the fall line and gathered at the first one. We would abseil down! We put our harnesses back on and set up a belay. I tied in, Chris lowered me, I backed up to the next larch, belayed, Chris tubered down, same again until we were in the gully. Our throats dry from the mineral-less meltwater in our bottles, we chewed the last Haribo. That was certainly the right thing to do here, a descent on skis would probably have been fatal. The abseil was almost relaxed for me, Chris was in command here as an alpinist and did a clean job. Who would have thought that the most dramatic story would come today, and who would have thought that the most dramatic would follow? There were still 700 meters of descent through dense forest with a counter-climb ahead of us. But now the intensity was about to drop again, through the gully out into good deep snow... the plateau was close. I set off, straighlined a little too much, brake turn, pushed into the back, levered out, overturned - fall and pain in my left knee. With some effort, I got up and freed myself from the snow. I say I'm okay, shake my knees, everything could be okay. Chris skis off and also falls, but from both skis at least. Neither should have happened today. I continue to say I'm okay, make a turn, my knee doesn't hold, pain and self-abuse. I immediately say it will be difficult to get down now. Meanwhile, the weather is changing, the sky is half cloudy, but we are under the cloud cover. Off to the plateau, maybe I could walk out with my skins on. And then? 500 meters up to Stavel on one leg? Through the dense bushes, 50 meters up, gritting my teeth. Finally arrived on the plateau: 112, now or never. No chance of getting to Stavel or any further with this knee. Chris agreed with me. 112 call, first time in my life. I immediately reach the emergency number and am then transferred to the mountain rescue service in Trento, where I start to explain the situation and suddenly the cell phone network becomes weak and I lose reception. Once they've understood where we are, the helicopter can fly, after all it's cloudy and light snow is falling. I dial 112 again and call, and despite the weak reception, communication is successful and provides clarity: they are coming! We were told to hold on to everything and form the Y. We put on warm clothes, cigarette, wait, airliner or helicopter? Then clearly, helicopter in front of us, Y, the helicopter flies over us and then an arc and lower towards us. Where would it land? Not at all, it felt like it was hovering for ages with its rotor blades swinging directly in front of us, finally flying away again, leaving three rescue workers behind. That was the worst fear of the tour, that this helicopter would chop us up with its rotor. We were prepared for take-off, the procedure was repeated, we climbed into the helicopter and flew off. We have a stopover, the felt-hatted hut warden is there and enquires about us - we were certainly the first on the bivouac this year. Chris is driven to the car, I am flown to the nearest hospital in Cles. Emergency room, orthopaedics, X-ray, old orthopaedic doctor with thick glasses, blood taken from the knee, says "crociato!", I say "rotto?", he says "probabile", plaster cast, basta, ciao! Trivia: We were in daily contact with Giordano, he became our friend and the secret hero of the story - chopping wood in the valley. He sent us so many nice messages, he was more than our expedition meteorologist, which I will be one day. If you want to be remote, you can also find it in the Alps. Communication and teamwork are fundamental on the mountain, and were essential for us both for what we achieved and for the rescue. I believe our action can be provocative even without an accident. We have taken risks, and in each individual case we have dealt with them conscientiously as a team. We go into the mountains in search of freedom and seclusion. We can't and don't always want to just follow the tracks that have already been laid. We had to assess all risks independently and always minimize them, and ultimately be prepared to turn back or make an emergency call. You can consider the influence of a heavy backpack, a 1 kilo ski touring boot on a freeride ski with a 106mm center width as unfavorable and mitigating circumstances, but in the end it was a negligent skiing mistake and the blame lies with me, which is good. It is not over until it's over, or until you're at the car. My season is over, but I thought that my season was over with this tour anyway. We welcome any critical comments and thank you for your attention. Photos unfortunately in a confused order. Sebastian and Chris.