Hiking the Alta Via 1: Day 10, Second Half

From the rest stop at Rifugio Pian de Fontana to trail's end at La Pissa bus stop

    The original plan, last February, when we were planning this trip, was to take the exciting via ferrata route from Rifugio Pramparet and stay the last night at Rifugio Septimo Alpini before hiking out the next day. However, once we got to Italy and looked more closely at our material, we saw that hikers on this route had to have climbing gear and a guide. We tried to hire a guide and rent the gear, but in the end it was all too complicated and entailed too much extra hiking to try to meet the guide, so we gave up the effort and changed our plans to stay at Rifugio Pramparet the last night and do the long hike out on the last day. Yesterday's post gave a rendition of the first half of that last day. Now, at half-past noon, we were on the last leg of our hike on the Alta Via 1, from Rifugio Pian de Fontana to La Pissa bus stop, where we were to meet Bryan in his rented car.

Just setting off from Rif. Pian de Fontana. Photo by unknown stranger

    At first the downhill sloped gently across the steepness of the mountain. The vistas were open and stunningly beautiful.

                                                                        Photo by William della Santina

William was hiking fast, at his own pace at last, maybe already thinking about leaving for college the day after he got home. He was soon out of sight. Though Margaret could easily have been hiking with him, she stayed behind me. It was very kind; otherwise I would have been hiking by myself all day. (But, then, Margaret is a kind person.) 

William on the trail. Photo by Margaret Della Santina

    At one point on that long, gradual descent across the steep, open, grassy mountainside, we came across a little trailside box with a statue of St. Anthony of Padua, the saint of lost things. Margaret surmised that it was there for the shepherds to pray for the sheep that had fallen off the trail and were lost. It was easy to see how that could happen, the sheep rolling over and over down the steep, open hill with nothing to stop it.  

    Not much farther down the trail we passed a young hiker who had stopped for a rest. She was from Cincinnati and was hiking the Dolomites by herself—and in sandals. We went on by, but she soon passed us, going at a fast clip, and then passed William where he was waiting for us, and we never saw her again.

    William was waiting on a large boulder at a turn in the trail. I think he had taken a good long nap while he waited. I stopped there to put an elastic bandage on my ankle, which was feeling weak.

    And then on down.

    Forever down. 

    Rock trail, root trail, clamber trail. Down and down. Finally we were at the last rifugio on the Alta Via 1, Rifugio Bianchet, which, like Pian de Fontana, looked pretty deserted. I took off my boots for our 15-minute break, then put them back on for our final descent.

    Now we were on a gravel road,

Going down the last road. Photo by Margaret dell Santina

which descended gently at first, much to the relief of my feet, but then it got steeper. Steep short-cut trails through the woods cut off some of the switchbacks of the road. Everything went down. My feet were hurting so badly by now they were affecting my pace. I simply could not walk any faster, no matter how late we were. The ace bandage had steadied my ankle, but the toes, the toes, the toes! The pounding on the bottoms of my feet. How my feet hurt! And the more they hurt, the slower I walked. There was no help for it. I could keep on going, but I couldn't go faster.

    I distracted myself by taking note of the beautiful landscape—the green-leaf trees, the perpendicular stone cliffs, the plunging river canyon. After the thousands of feet we had descended from the high country, how could there possibly still be such sheer drops hundreds of feet down?

    With only a mile or half-mile to go, the trail left the road completely and dashed impatiently down the hillside. By the time I stumbled down the last rock-and-root bit and joined William at the road—Margaret immediately behind me—it was 6:00, and we were an hour late. There was no bus stop and no Bryan and lots of whizzing traffic. I set my pack on the pavement, sat down on it, took off my boots, and stretched out my legs. Oh, the relief to my feet! Then I joined the consultation about what to do. 

    Finally William decided to brave the traffic and walk up the road, where he discovered the bus stop, which was only a wide place in the road. Bryan wasn't there. William came back to us and, on a miraculously functioning phone, contacted his dad and sent the coordinates of where we were. Then he, too, got off his feet while we waited.

                                                                        Photo by Margaret Della Santina

Twenty minutes later Bryan pulled up in his rented car.

    In 2016 Mike and I ended our hike on the Alta Via 2 at the last rifugio. It had been a hard last two days,—11 or 12 miles each day, with several climbs up very steep, long passes—but when we got to the rifugio, exhilaration trumped exhaustion. We did it! We hiked the Alta Via 2! In congratulations the owner gave us a beer on the house. The next morning we made a short, easy hike to the bus stop still in the glow of our achievement.

    Now, at the end of the AV 1, I felt no exhilaration, only relief to be able to take off my boots. On this last day we had hiked 10.6 miles, climbing 3000 feet and descending an amazing 7,700 feet. We had been on the trail for nine and a half hours and on our feet, walking, for eight and a half hours. My feet were telling me that that was enough. 

    And then when we got in the car with Bryan, there was so much to tell that somehow it didn't get told. And then we were in Treviso for the next three days, in a different kind of adventure, experiencing Italian cities, eating in outdoor restaurants, seeing churches, walking through streets.

                                                                                Photo by Bryan della Santina

The Alta Via 1 was tucked away in my memory somewhere, inaccessible, remote. 

    Finally, at home, rereading my journal and writing these blog posts, I began to retrieve the trip from my memory. The glorious mountain vistas. The steep climbs. The rifugios. The people we met. The challenges we faced and the joy of facing them. The strength of the body. The willingness of the feet to step into boots every morning, no matter how much they had hurt the night before. What great hiking partners Margaret and William were. How grateful I am to have been able to hike the Alta Via 1 with them.  How much I love the Dolomites.