After the thick soup of Southeast Asia’s skies in March/April and an interminable string of days over 100 F (39 C) in Houston this summer, the prime attraction of our hiking trip to northern Italy might well have been the weather. Crisp, cool mountain air and a vigorous weeklong hike in the Dolomites were the perfect balm for our heads and bodies.

For the first time since Covid, J and I were joining a small-group hike with an existing team of trekkers, only two of whom we knew. One was our daughter’s father-in-law who, along with his wife, has become a true friend (what a bonus for us!). We flew into Venice and immediately transferred to a small town, Selva di Cadore, several hours north and close to the Austrian border. From here, we would spend the next three days exploring this section of the Dolomites before moving on to several others.

From the minute we entered the mountains about midway through the drive, it was clear that the landscapes would be different from anything we had hiked in before, and the views on this trek would soon surpass even the sublimely cool air in our affections. Technically part of the Alps, the Dolomites have all the visual appeal of their mountain relatives in France, Switzerland, western Italy, Austria, and Slovenia. But here, striking vertical cliffs, pointy pinnacles, and craggy towers rose dramatically from the land.

As the dolomitic rock was pushed up and shaped by running water and ice over five glaciation periods, the landscape took on other distinct characteristics, including heaps of rocky debris at the feet of many of the sheer cliffs. At times, the space between peaks was as soft and green as a typical Alpine meadow,

at others, the base of the mountains was more of a sere moonscape,

and in between those extremes were hybrid fields of clumpy grasses strewn with rocks and boulders of many sizes.

The night before we began hiking in earnest, our guides informed us that the weather for the first few days would be quite bad – not just rain, but thunderstorms and lightning that would create dangers we’d have to avoid, perhaps even to the point of abandoning our plans. We got lucky the first morning, staying dry as we hiked at lower elevations for the first few hours.

With a bit of blue sky peeking through, we reverted to the original plan of hiking up to the Pelmo, a throne-shaped chunk of rock, but by lunchtime, we were getting pelted by rain, scampering into a hut, peeling off wet layers, and contemplating the long, steep descent we would have to make back to the town.

We chose to use a trail in the woods, thinking the tree cover would keep us a little drier, but alas, we slipped and slid down a muddy, root-filled trail for the rest of the afternoon.

Getting back to our lodging, we remembered why Europe is such a great place to hike: you get a full day of serious activity, but you come back to a warm shower, a real bed, and spectacular food!

***

Day two was forecast to be the worst day of all, so instead of an exposed hike, we took a quick gondola ride partway up the mountain and when the skies surprised us by staying blue and clear, we completed a steep ascent up to Ristoro Belvedere, a mountain hut (rifugio) with stunning views of the Pelmo, Monte Civetta (the “wall of walls”), Marmolada (the Dolomites’ highest peak), the Pale di San Martino, and more. The panorama was astounding, and feeling inspired and invigorated by our weather luck, we climbed a bit farther to Fertazza peak and its added view of the valley and Lake Alleghe.

Although the clouds began to darken, we pressed on to a cheese factory, stopping to sample the goods and endlessly photograph the cows – a distinctly touristic activity!

We’d added a group member by now, an Australian sheepdog who had been following us for at least the last 2-3 miles, running ahead, circling back, and herding us down the mountain like his sheep.

Our culinary adventures were just beginning as we clomped right back up the hundreds of feet we had just hiked down in order to get to Chalet Col di Baldi, a gourmet hut high in the range. We stuffed ourselves with venison, trout, ravioli, and barley soup (in my boring case) before setting off for an up-and-down traverse and eventually a long, steep descent back to Selva di Cadore.

We reunited with our doggie friend who was now many miles from home. One of our guides called the phone number on his collar tag, we roped him up, and made the final trek into town with him in tow. It was a very long but rewarding day in every way.

***

The next morning, we packed small bags for an overnight at the very high Rifugio Lagazuoi, not a place anyone could transport our duffels. Yesterday’s rain caught up with us a few times before lunch, and the varied terrain was a challenge for all. There were boulder fields to start out – gorgeously studded with wildflowers,

a super steep and narrow climb up a set of exposed switchbacks known as “Oh Shit Hill,”

then a long slog in drizzle to a rifugio where a few people decided to leave us for a rest, and finally an endless trek up a slanted, cliff-hugging slab of stone to the oldest hut in the Dolomites, Rifugio Nuvolau, built in 1883. We were now completely spoiled by the vistas, here getting stunning views of the Tofane, Cristallo, and again the Marmolada.

After another hearty lunch, we hiked three miles down to Passo Falzarego to catch a cable car up to Rifugio Lagazuoi.

At the hut, it was difficult to tear ourselves away from admiring the scenery from the sunny deck, but we eventually checked into our dorm-style rooms and headed back out to explore a World War I tunnel system that runs through the mountains here on the Italy-Austria front. We strapped on our headlamps, used cables to inch our way down to the tunnel entrances, and crouched our way through some of the trenches and tunnels used during the war. It was quite a sobering, physically uncomfortable, and slightly creepy experience. It was hard to imagine how thousands of Italian and Austrian soldiers endured 20 months, including two winters, locked in hand-to-hand battle and sheer deprivation on these forbidding peaks.

That afternoon and evening, our cameras got a good workout as the scenes from the rifugio spread out before us, first in deep greens and blues

and then tinged with the rosy hues of sunset.

***

The next morning, we began our most ambitious descent, a nearly 5000-ft (1524 m) drop down through a hidden valley into Cortina d’Ampezzo.

This challenging day took us behind the Tofane – three peaks renowned by climbers and alpinists and all over 10,500 feet (3200 m) in height. Walking right from the Lagazuoi refuge, we took a series of scree-covered switchbacks around the peaks of the Tofane down into the remote Val d’ Travenanz and the Rio de Fane.

The river was at the bottom of a deep gorge, and we had to shed our shoes multiple times to cross and re-cross the ice-cold flow. Left to our own devices, we came up with a variety of crossing strategies, and a few people got a little wet!

After a picnic lunch in a sunny field, we continued on to a huge waterfall near the bottom, then finished off our 11-mile day with a walk to our vans for a short shuttle into Cortina.

***

I have no good memory or notes on where we hiked the next day, but it was a tough uphill climb all morning to the Lago di Foses,

followed by an undulating path through velvety green fields,

another delicious rifugio meal of giant omelets, and a long gravelly descent back to Cortina. This was the first day we ran into large groups of hikers as the latter part of our day passed through areas easily accessible by car. We’d been lucky all week with empty trails, especially yesterday in the “secret” valley where we’d seen no one at all.

***

We chose to rise very early on our last day of trekking to beat the crowds to the Tre Cime (Three Peaks) area, another location that attracts day hikers. Our knowledgeable guide also suggested we hike opposite to the route taken by most of the expected crowds, and she knew of a special little hut (Malga Langalm) that would only be about an hour into our hike if we went this way.

Here, we would stop for breakfast instead of a later meal as others would, so we left Cortina with empty bellies that were happily filled with cappuccino, fresh yogurt, honey, fruit, and homemade cakes a short time later.

All of us deemed this stop to be one of our very favorites; we had spectacular views of the Tre Cime massif, the food was outstanding, and the chill of the morning and our wake-up hike were rewarded with a warming morning sun as we relaxed on the outdoor patio.

Because of our reverse routing, we only ran into crowds at the main viewpoint of the Three Peaks. Until that point, we again had the otherworldly landscape mostly to ourselves.

We jostled with the day hikers for a few photos, but we’d already gotten such great views in several hours of skirting the massif that we were happy to leave the final stop to the hordes.

After a boisterous farewell dinner a week after we’d meet the group, J and I spent a short day in Venice before flying home. Our cool, refreshing break was over, and the city of canals got us ready for the heat and humidity we would face the next day.

It was a highly successful trip, full of brisk activity, spirited friends new and old, exceptional cuisine, and some of the best hiking scenery we have seen. I’m always drawn to exotic locales for my hikes, but the good old European mountains deliver every time!