Call it an Alpine fever dream. Or disorientation from a nearly utopian week in Italy’s vertiginous, bone-white Dolomite Mountain region, hiking through verdant valleys and along exposed ridgelines, dining on impeccable rustic fare and drinking too much red wine. Or just chalk it up to childlike enthusiasm mixed with overconfidence.
Whatever it is, after hiking 1,500 feet to the top of Mount Lagazuoi and admiring the panoramic views of the cliffs jutting into an azure sky and the narrow Falzarego Pass far below, I decide to skip the gondola ride down — the easy way to the valley floor — and elect to hike instead.
I leave the camera-toting crowds behind, following one trail and then another down the mountain’s western face. Twenty minutes and about 1,000 feet later, it’s clear that my over-exuberance has made me miss whatever path I was supposed to follow.
I’d eaten only a bit of fruit that morning, my water is down to a few precious sips, the September sun feels as hot as it does at summer’s peak, and only two options seem viable: Continue, hoping that a narrow, all-metal suspension bridge that I can make out in the distance will actually get me back to my hotel. Or turn around and retrace a punishing near-vertical uphill route back to the gondola.
Method and madness
In truth, disorientation has marked this trip from the start.
Shortly after landing in Venice, I’m driving north, leaving the city’s picturesque canals, gondolas and narrow streets behind without a glimpse. After crossing a vast, featureless plain for an hour, I’m trying to convince myself that there’s method to my madness.
Eventually the landscape hints at what lies ahead, and after navigating the first of many tunnels, I’m instantly transported. Just 100 miles and a world away from Venice, the Dolomite Mountains conquer the horizon.
The first things I see are the peaks that give the region its name: sheer white cliffs that launch into the sky like knife blades. Known as the “Pale Mountains,” they boast a chemical composition dubbed dolomite (stratified calcium magnesium carbonate), deposited more than 230 million years ago when seawater covered the region. The white rocks practically glow in the midday sun. As evening sets, vibrant hues of rose and vermillion explode across the cliffs before surrendering to a deep blue. Then the moon rises and the rock absorbs its ethereal light. At sunrise, it’s all pinks and purples that eventually shift back to the pale of midday.
The Dolomites cover 90,000 acres of the Italian Alps, ending at the Austria-Italy border, and the region boasts a heady mixture of both cultures.
World War I brought fierce combat to the Dolomites, and the military routes constructed to supplement the old shepherd paths draw legions of trekkers today. The trails are anchored by a vast network of rifugios, backcountry lodges that offer bottomless glasses of red wine, home-cooked food, a soft bed and morning espresso — as well as the ease of carrying only spare clothes and water during the day.
But the reason I left Venice behind is the via ferrata. Italian for “iron road,” the term refers to the network of ropes and wooden structures that Italian and Austrian soldiers built during World War I to ease their passage over the mountains. Iron ladders, cables and suspension bridges now line these routes, affording easy access to some of the most dramatic Alpine scenery in Europe.
As I reach the town of Cortina d’Ampezzo, I can see ribbons of snow on the higher-elevation peaks. The jagged mountains of Tofana, Cristallo and Sorapis dwarf the town, and I feel instantly overwhelmed by the Dolomites’ sheer magnitude.
Thankfully, I have someone to help me out.
Agustina Lagos Marmol, a dark- haired woman with a trim figure that reflects her love of rock climbing, was destined for the Dolomites. After a childhood spent hiking and horseback riding on her family’s estancia in Argentine Patagonia and then attending school in California, she became a tour operator for the luxe outfit Butterfield and Robinson, which brought her to the Dolomites in 1994. In 1996, she founded her own tour operation, Dolomite Mountains.
No crowds
The dearth of crowds — it is just past the August peak season — makes me feel as though I’m in on a well- kept secret for my five days of biking, hiking and via ferrata; as well as overnights in rifugios and boutique hotels in mountain villages. It’s reinforced the next day on a bike ride with Agustina’s colleague. We start off easily, pedaling on the bike path behind Cortina before an uphill grind that leads to a pristine overlook.
The only time we see other cyclists — other people, for that matter — is when we stop for lunch at a rifugio. Turkey panini, cold beer and crisp mountain air.
The next day, Agustina and I head out for a two-night trek. An uphill slog takes us through clumps of trees whose pale-green leaves hint at the brilliant yellows that will blanket the mountains when they reach their autumnal peak at the end of September.
After hiking through the saddle between two peaks, we drop into another valley, leaving Cortina behind. At noon we stop for a simple meal at Malga Cavalli, a modest wooden structure with a porch overlooking the surrounding ridgeline that juts from the basin we’ve just traversed.
The route takes us into another valley, past other rifugios, Tibetan prayer flags flapping in the wind. Weather is starting to come in, the clouds graying out the once-brilliant sunlight. But not before we reach Rifugio Fanes. The more spartan rifugios are run by the Italian Alpine Club, but Fanes is privately owned, a three-story stone-and-wood structure nestled in a narrow valley. We drop our packs, kick off our hiking shoes and, drinks in hand, watch the clouds envelop the pines on the ridge. We shower and then dine on wine and handmade gnocchi. Sleep comes in a silent wave.
I awake to a steady drizzle, and as we hike out, Agustina suggests a change. Instead of hiking to Rifugio Lagazuoi, we’ll loop back to the car and overnight in the town of Val Badia.
The suggestion proves prescient. We ride the gondola up to the lodge from Falzarego Pass, but clouds cover everything. A total whiteout, forecast to last at least 24 hours.
Assisted rock climbing
I still have to visit the via ferrata.
My guide, Marcello, is Agustina’s ex-husband. We head to the via ferrata route Col Dei Bos.
Think of the via ferrata as assisted rock climbing: the thrill of the ascent minus that all-too-real fear of falling, thanks to cables mounted to posts anchored into the rock. You wear a helmet and a climbing harness with two carabiner clips attached to the harness via ropes. Fix one clip to the cable and start climbing. When you reach the point where the cable meets the post, clip the spare carabiner to the next section of cable, remove the other clip, keep moving.
The climb goes smoothly, with plenty of hand- and footholds. We hit a playful rhythm.
At the top, snow-covered Marmolada Glacier, the tallest point of the Dolomites at 11,000 feet, stands in dramatic relief against its rocky base on the other side of the valley.
In less than an hour it’s over, but I’m not ready to leave.
Marcello tells me to keep hiking. Lagazuoi, the rifugio swallowed by storm clouds two days before, stands like a visual invitation atop the adjacent peak.
We agree to meet at the gondola parking lot. I head out into a small saddle as Marcello returns to his car. Purple and yellow wildflowers line a trail that leads to switchbacks that eventually deposit me on the rifugio’s massive deck.
Agustina hadn’t exaggerated. From Lagazuoi’s position, the entirety of the Dolomites unfolds before you, a visual symphony of forest, rock, clouds, snow and sky. I pause to drink in the views, and weigh my options: ride the gondola or return on what should be a quick downhill hike.
I opt for the hike. First over the short peak behind the rifugio, then onto what I think is the right path. I head down, following the well- marked routes, and reach a trailhead. One way leads into one of the many tunnels that honeycomb the Dolomites, another feature built during World War I. With no head lamp, I go the other way, my stride wide and footfalls confident — until I realize that in my joy, I’ve gotten on the wrong side of a vertical rock fin that now stands between me and access to the parking lot. After weighing various options, I take a large bite of humble pie, wash it down with the last of my water, and start back up the 1,000 feet to the gondola that I should have taken in the first place.
An hour later, I’m in the parking lot, exhausted. I can’t find Marcello.
“He waited for you for a few hours,” Agustina says when I phone. “Why not hitch a ride?”
I tell her that I’ll grab a bus. “I’m on my way to dinner and can pick you up, no problem,” she tells me.
“I’ll wait in the parking lot,” I reply, still raw from the hike and relieved that respite is in sight.
“Wait at the bar.”
Smarter words have never been spoken. By the time Agustina arrives, the beer has washed away the embarrassment of getting lost in one of the best-marked hiking regions in Europe.
Agustina asks why I didn’t hitchhike.
“I tried,” I reply. “But I think it’s much easier for an attractive Argentine fluent in Italian to get a ride than it is for a sunburned American who speaks next to no Italian.”
“True,” she replies, smiling.
I smile back. Even with the comical missteps of my final day, the Dolomites still leave me feeling lucky.
Insider’s Guide to Italy’s Dolomites
GET THERE
From Venice, it’s about 100 miles north to Cortina d’Ampezzo, a good base camp for the region.
STAY
Rifugios
More than 55 throughout the Dolomites. The more rustic ones are run by the Italian Alpine Club, with spartan amenities such as hostel-style bunk rooms and cold running water; privately owned rifugios typically offer private rooms, gourmet food and wine, and hot showers. Reservations are highly recommended, especially during the summer. Call at least a day in advance, or work with outfitters such as Dolomite Mountains to help arrange a more detailed itinerary. Dormitory rates vary by owner and start at around $68 for bunk accommodations; private rooms start at $85. Local bookshops sell regional maps and have brochures for rifugios in the region.
Hotel des Alps, Via La Vera, 2, Cortina D’Ampezzo, 011-39-0436-86-2021, desalpescortina.it. Just outside town, offering a B&B experience with rates that start at about $95, including breakfast.
AbraCortina Hotel, Via XXIX Maggio, 28, Cortina D’Ampezzo, 011-39-0436-86-7344, hotelambra cortina.it. Plusher boutique environment, with rates that start at about $113, including breakfast.
DINE
The Dolomites offer cuisine from both the Tyrolean and Ladin cultures as well as Italian food. Most rifugios offer items such as beet ravioli, barley or nettle soup, polenta and Italian staples such as gnocchi.
Cortina’s Pizzeria Porto Rotondo, Piazza Venezia, Cortina d’Ampezzo, 011-39-0436-86-7777. Traditional pizza and fare straight out of the Italy of your mind. Pizzas from about $12.
Enoteca, 5 Via del Mercato, Cortina d’Ampezzo, 011-39-0436-86-2040, cortinanet.it/pages/Enoteca/home.html. A great wine bar packed with locals snacking on plates of locally sourced cheese while sipping on local vintages such as the zesty Zidarich. Glasses of wine and small fare start at $7.
WHAT TO DO
Dolomite Mountains, 303-898-3376, . Offers package trips throughout the year, from multiday group hiking, biking, climbing and via feratta trips through September starting at around $1,700 per person. Or you can organize a self-guided tour: Owner Agustina Lagos Marmol helps assemble a custom multiday itinerary based on your interests, from hiking to rifugios to biking to via feratta. Duration and activities dictate the price; a typical 10-day hut-to-hut hike runs around $1,900, including all meals, local transportation, luggage transfers and maps. The company offers additional tours of the region year-round, including photography courses, skiing and rock climbing.
Mountain Travel Sobek, 888-831-7526, . Offers the nine-day package “Hiking in Italy: The Best of Dolomites,” a tour of the region with day hikes and stays in the towns of Cortina and Val Badia as well as overnights in rifugios; $4,895 in July and September (a via feratta extension is also available). Cost includes all lodging, meals, guided hikes and transportation to/from Venice.
Nathan Borchelt
