As if not to disturb or alert the people packing up at the high altitude slow food festival behind me, a small mountain goat tiptoed through the clouds and into the opening.

Two cable cars, a sausage with sauce and a platter of bread and mixed condiments later, I found myself looking up at a loose pile of rocks a few hundred metres away.

Somewhere in the Italian Alps.

The plan came together in a way significantly better than I ever could have imagined.