Are passions hereditary?
A true story by Mario Salmon – Written on July 14, 2024
Do you want proof of the existence and transmission of DNA? Would you like an example of Mendeleev’s laws and of the inheritance of a passion for the mountains? What truly passes from one generation to the next? Are passions hereditary?
These are questions that, one way or another, we all ask ourselves. Whom do I resemble? My grandfather? And what have my children “inherited” from their parents?
I believe even science cannot give definite, complete answers.
But I, on the other hand, can give you a very good example—well documented—that the passion for the mountains is indeed strongly hereditary and, in this case, is transmitted through a chain of five generations: from my grandfather all the way to my two grandchildren. A case that is certainly not unique, yet rarely demonstrable.
This is why I spent some time writing this short piece, hoping to steal only a few minutes of your time to read it.
Five Generations of CAI Members • 1921–2024
Let us begin with our story, which stems from a sort of family obsession with “keeping everything” and preserving any trace of our family history. And so, I found the photo of my grandfather’s CAI membership card and that of my mother—now joined by the current membership cards of my two children and my two grandchildren.
It is nothing short of a miracle that those two cards, more than a hundred years old, survived dozens of moves, periods of clandestinity, house and cellar clear-outs, and even war—from Padua to Bologna, presumably passing through Geneva, Turin, Milan…
These seven membership cards offer the perfect opportunity to revisit our family’s mountaineering history and to highlight what our characters do—and do not—have in common.
Vittorio Colussi. Born in 1879, he lived between Venice and Padua, working as an industrialist in the confectionery sector, while maintaining close ties to the mountains—first to Zoldo, where the family home stood, and later to Cortina, where he built a villa around 1935. That villa would become the family’s base camp for many years.
I do not believe Vittorio went into the mountains very often or practiced real alpinism. For him, the love of the mountains was tied to his affection for the Zoldo Valley, the Civetta, and the Pelmo.
In the 1950s, when he was around 80 years old, he would leave Cortina in his Fiat 600 to go to Zoldo, greet a few relatives, and buy the local puina sfumegada, which he then used as a substitute for grana padano. His love for the mountains was also linked to historical memories.
When I was with him, we would always stop under Forcella Staulanza to read the plaque commemorating the mine placed by the Italians in 1917 to halt the advancing Austrians after the defeat of Caporetto.
In conclusion: he was a CAI member as part of his bond with the valleys of his origins in the Dolomites.
Lina Colussi. Married name Salmon, born in 1905, portrayed on the balustrade of the Cortina villa. Only a few CAI stickers—just four—ending when she began “expecting me” and, sadly, never resuming, as Lina died suddenly in 1939 at only 34 years old.
Lina was a true alpinist and spent much time in the mountains: as a young woman, she even climbed routes of considerable difficulty—the Civetta, the Torre Grande of the Cinque Torri via the Nuvolau route.
Later, as a wife and mother, she undertook long outings such as the traverse from Cortina to Zoldo or the Picco di Villandro, always driven by her passion for the mountains.
By chance, my very first real climb was the Nuvolau route—so one could say I started where she left off!
Parenthetically, the Nuvolau route no longer exists due to a landslide that blocked it. It was a route between grade II and III, somewhat strenuous due to two chimneys climbed in friction, making you sweat the proverbial seven shirts. In those years, not many women climbed, and she must have been “tough”—capable of both demanding routes and long excursions like the Civetta via the normal route. And although it has no direct connection to the CAI, it is right to mention my father, who—despite being 100% from the Po Valley—spent long periods in the mountains and completed many classic hikes on his own and later with my mother Lina.
Mario Salmon. That’s me. Starting from the Nuvolau route in the 1950s, I have devoted nearly an entire lifetime to the mountains.
My list of ascents is long and ranges from the Breithorn on skis to the Miriam route in the Cinque Torri, from 4,000-metre peaks to climbs of grade V. I will spare you the full list, but I will mention how we climbed back then: hemp ropes, then Perlon ropes, Vibram mountain shoes, a few carabiners, heavy iron pitons—but no harnesses, no helmets, no belay devices…
In my mountaineering résumé, I like to highlight my “survival in activity” at nearly 86 years of age—thanks to heredity and to never having “given up”!
Here, too, we find a generational relay: for over ten years I essentially “brought” my children, Lina and Marco, into the mountains—via ferratas, off-piste skiing, and demanding hikes.
Lina Salmon. Born in Geneva in 1967. After many family outings and via ferratas, she took up climbing, beginning with the most difficult route I had ever climbed: the Miriam route.
Lina completed the Miriam around 1984, later stopped climbing, but built an impressive list of “classic” ascents in the Dolomites—Tofana di Mezzo, Tofana di Dentro, Punta Fiames—along with excursions into the Western Alps.
Between my years of climbing and Lina’s, a true revolution occurred: climbing shoes, harnesses, helmets, equipped belays, belay devices. The only thing we still had in common was the rope!
Marco Salmon. My other son learned mountaineering with me, both in summer and winter. Together—just the two of us, or the three of us— we completed beautiful via ferratas such as the Lipella and the Dibona, and steep-skiing descents like that from the Bus de Tofana.
After a rock-climbing course, he slowed down his mountain activities for a few years, then resumed about a decade ago with his wife Cristiana—another enthusiast—and their son Matteo.
He too, in short, has “fallen victim” to the passion for the mountains.
Francesco Bini. Lina’s son, and my grandson. He began with via ferratas with his mother, then some rock climbing, and—new for our family—much gym-based indoor climbing. Another unimaginable revolution compared to my time and his mother’s.
Each generation sees the scenery change: after three generations of engineers—my father, myself, and Lina—Francesco graduated in Natural Sciences and, while studying and protecting wildlife, undertakes long excursions in places previously unexplored by the family, from Abruzzo to Croatia to New Zealand—not bad for his 25 years!
Matteo Salmon. Marco’s son, he represents the quieter, less fanatical version of our family’s love for the mountains: long hikes in the Marebbe Valley, not yet any via ferratas, and skiing. He even managed to ski in the wide meadows of the United States—proof that he simply could not do without it!
Maria Rosa. The excuse for this nostalgic journey is the CAI membership cards, but in this chain there is another person who is deeply important to me: Maria Rosa, my companion for nearly 30 years.
A large part of my recent mountain life has been with her: outings, picnics, visits to alpine huts, and some fine ascents (the Nuvolau in the heart of winter, not an easy feat). I fondly remember my 70th birthday together on the summit of Corno alle Scale. What more could I have wished for?
In conclusion.
Why 100 years of CAI? How is it that all of us share this almost obsessive passion for the mountains—hiking, climbing, crossing glaciers, skiing on and off the pistes? How has this inheritance of passion been transmitted so powerfully across so many generations?
Over these hundred years, we have pooled an enormous treasure of “shared memories”: peaks, routes, passages, struggles and satisfactions, climbing partners, lead climbers… All different, yet all strikingly similar. Among these memories, I must include Enrico Maioni, who, by chance, has guided Francesco, Marco, Lina, and even myself!
What is certain is that all five of us remember our mountain days, each in our own way, as the best of our lives. When we meet again in the Valley of Josaphat, it will be wonderful to exchange memories and recount our adventures!
It is difficult to say how much culture, education, example, or—why not—DNA weighs in.
Not bad in times of “wayward children who go astray”: we have held strong for a hundred years, and we are not done yet.
If this story teaches us anything, it is that the passion for the mountains is not merely a hobby or an interest, but a true inheritance—passed down from generation to generation with a fervour and dedication rarely seen. This shared love for summits, paths, and alpine challenges has bound not only the members of our family but also our stories and memories, making the passion for the mountains an irreplaceable part of our lives.
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