Lavarella to Lagazuoi. 6 hours. 8+ miles.
This was the day that tested our mettle. The first two days, for all that we gained a lot of elevation, were mere warm-ups. This was the day that said, "So you want to hike the Dolomites? All right, then, take this!"
It had rained during the night, so we started out in full rain gear. The creek by the rifugio was now a beautiful thrashing river. The trail was at first a gentle stroll. Then we climbed a bit.
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Up to the gap. Note the figures in center
and towards the top of trail.
Photo by Margaret Della Santina |
And then, at the top of that subtle climb, we faced an unbelievable descent.
We could see straight down the cliff, perpendicularly to a tiny spot of blue at its bottom that was Lago di Lagazuoi.
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| Photo by Margaret Della Santina |
We could see the trail dropping in zig-zags down the cliff,
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The zig-zag trail following the cliff down
Photo by Diana Coogle |
and, worse, we could see the trail straight
up the opposite mountain that we would have to climb to get to the rifugio, which was, from this distance, but a tiny square shape on top.
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The rifugio is just visible to the left of the dense cloud.
Photo by Margaret Della Santina |
Somehow we would have to get there.
Because the descent was done in tight switchbacks (I wasn't counting, but surely there were a hundred or more), it wasn't too bad. We stopped briefly at the lake, where I didn't swim because the lake looked shallow and because there were groups of people sitting around it, staring into it, and I didn't care to be the focus of attention. And the weather was still threatening, so we didn't linger but turned, after a short pause, to the trail.
The first part of the climb went steadily up, but not too badly. William led; Margaret came next, making sure to keep me in sight. I hit a good rhythm, coordinating my pace and my breath, climbing steadily up the notch between two giant pink-and-gray cliffs, which I think were the Lagazuoi Grande and Lagazuoi Piccolo that Gillian Price mentions, strategic places in World War I.
Finally we came to a small plateau with a signpost pointing left to the trail we would take tomorrow. To the right was the steep slog first up hard rock |
| Photo by Margaret Della Santina |
up tight zig-zags, supported by timbers, |
| Photo by Margaret Della Santina |
up to Rifugio Lagazuoi, still seen as a tiny box at the top. Partway up we passed some World War I tunnels and shelters. Price says that this area was "the arena of fighting and terrible loss of life during the 1914-18 conflict," and we saw much evidence of this in the timbers that held up the trail, stone edging here and there, and especially in these tunnels.
We stopped to walk through one with our flashlights. |
| Photo by Margaret Della Santina |
William was fascinated, and he and Margaret explored the tunnel thoroughly and stopped in at least one other. I appreciated the historical perspective, but it gave me the shivers to be there, and, besides, I was in uphill mode. I preferred to keep a steady pace without stopping.
It took us more than an hour to climb from Lago di Lagazuoi to Rifugio Lagazuoi, which, at 9029 feet, is the highest point on the AV 1.  |
| Photo by Diana Coogle |
There was a ski-lift station just below the rifugio—Margaret was enthusiastically considering the possibility of coming back to ski—and a sauna (pay to use) on the deck. The views, in all directions, were without hindrance (except for clouds) and spectacular. Here were the Dolomites, everywhere, as far as a person could see, worth every moment and every muscle to get there to see them.
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| Photo by Margaret Della Santina |
Was my reward for this hard and exhilarating climb the gorgeous sunset over the mountains? The good dinner? The compliment on my hiking style—"so steady, and you never got out of breath!"—by the American woman who had hiked behind me? A bed for the night? Yes, yes, yes, but I think the best reward of all was that my mettle was tested, and it wasn't found wanting.
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