Hiking the Alta Via 1: Day 8

 Rifugio Vazzoler to Rifugio Duran. 4 hours

    Here's today's journal entry:

    "How can I differentiate today's hike to Rifugio Carestiato, then to Rifugio Duran, from the other days' hikes? Up one mountain, down another…. Today, we continued down the gravel road we had taken to Vazzoler yesterday—already such a long descent!—and now on down we went until the trail left the road and turned towards the cliffs, climbing steadily, through forest and then becoming more rocky. We had a fun little bit of via ferrata on this part of the trail, helping us on a narrow path at the base of a rock wall.

Me negotiating a via ferrata. Photo by Margaret Della Santina

Margaret coming after me.    Photo by Diana Coogle

Up and up, across and across. Up and up and across and across, those remarkable spires to our left keeping us in shade.

                                        Photo by Margaret Della Santina

It wasn't difficult, but it was steady—up and up and across and across, always climbing. Sometimes boulder-hopping.

William on the boulders. Photo by Margaret Della Santina

Sometimes over red-mud trail. On and on, up and up, across and across,

                                    Photo by Margaret Della Santina
William waiting for me at what looked like the top. 

until finally we could see Rifugio Carestiato ahead on a cliff. We stopped there for a snack (or for lunch, depending on the appetite)."

                                            Photo by Margaret Della Santina
On the porch at Rif. Carestiato.
(Note that I have taken my boots off.)

    The porch of Rifugio Carestiato, in the sun, as well as the indoor dining room, was crowded with hikers. A family with two small children sat across the room from us. It wasn't the first family we had seen, but I marveled that they could take such small children on such a strenuous hike. 

    The descent from there to Rifugio Passo Duran C. Tomé was fairly easy, ending with a walk through cows grazing on the hillside. I was dismayed to see, as the rifugio came into view, a large number of cars and motorcycles in the parking lot. However, to my relief, most of the crowd had left by dinner time.

William hiking down to the rifugio.  Photo by Margaret Della Santina

        Because the rifugio was full, the wonderful young man at check-in, a student working there for the summer who wanted to live in the US for a year after graduation, told us he had given us the room he and his co-worker usually slept in.

                                                                            Photo by William della Santina
Our room is in the back, around the corner from the animals.

They would be fine in the trailer just off the porch, he said. "Oh, and don't be alarmed if you hear a donkey in the night," he added. "We keep them fenced in just outside your window during the night to keep the wolves from getting them." (I raised an eyebrow, but apparently there really are wolves in the Dolomites.) There was a bathroom with a wonderful shower for us to use, but "try not to use too much the hot water," he said.

    Margaret, William, and I took advantage of hot water and a clothesline to wash out underwear and socks, being careful not to use too much the hot water. It wasn't always possible to do a laundry at a rifugio (not enough time, no place to hang wet socks), so it was always good when we could.

    As we enjoyed an afternoon beer inside the now empty rifugio, we discussed plans for the next two days. The original itinerary was to do a six-hour day tomorrow, to Rifugio Pian di Fontana, but that would entail what seemed to be a treacherous descent at the end of the day, an especially bad idea if the thunderstorm William said was predicted materialized. We thought the better idea would be to stay at Rifugio Pramparet instead, which was closer to us than Pian di Fontana. That would mean a very long last day, but it seemed worth it for an easier and less dangerous day tomorrow.

    It seemed like a good plan for us, and, as it turned out, it would also be a good plan for a young German couple, Emma and Moritz, who were hiking from Innsbruck to Venice. They had wanted to stay at Pian di Fontana the next night but couldn't get reservations because the rifugio was full. We discussed the situation over dinner with them. If Pramparet had room for us, we could give our reservations at Pian di Fontana to them, and everyone would have a better hike.

    Miraculously, it all worked. Margaret contacted the two rifugios and was able to make reservations for us at Pramparet and to determine that Emma and Moritz could take our places at Rifugio Pian di Fontana. William, Margaret, and I would only hike as far as Rifugio Pramparet tomorrow, avoiding the thunderstorm, and the two young hikers would stay at Pian di Fontana, giving them more time to hike out the next day. Everyone was pleased.

    We didn't hear any donkeys that night, but the next morning we were delighted to make their acquaintance.

                                                 Photo by William della Santina

Hiking the Alta Via 1: Day 7

Rifugio Coldai to Rifugio Vazzoler. 3 hours, 45 minutes. 6 miles.

    Breakfast at Rifugio Coldai was served at 6:30. In addition to the usual basket of breads, plates of ham and cheese, bowls for yogurt and muesli, there was a platter of scrambled eggs. You might think with all the walking I was doing I would be losing weight on this trip, but the good food undid the good of the good walking.  

    The highlight of this day, as far as I'm concerned, was a swim in Lago Coldai, a green gem at 7032 feet.

Swimming in Lago Coldai.               Photo by Margaret Della Santina

It was a delicious swim, across the lake to the boulder side and back to the rock-pebble shore, where William had carried my towel and clothes to a spot in the approaching sun. The water was refreshingly cold. 

    The next highlight was Rifugio Tissi, a worthwhile detour on a sharp, vertical, rock-step ascent. We sat on the deck and had a coffee in the presence of awesome Dolomite peaks. Just as we were leaving the rifugio to make the short climb above it to the summit, we ran into Dana and Neil, the couple from Colorado we had met the night before. As we parted, they promised to come ski with me in Oregon. 

    At the summit above Tissi we had a 360-degree view of those Dolomite peaks. Far, far below, straight down the cliffs, we could see a blue lake and a town, Alleghe, minuscule below us. We could see the ribbon of the river stretching from the lake into the green hills, with house-knots on the river-ribbon winding up the valley.

                                                             Photo by Margaret Della Santina

William and I lay on the edge of the cliff, looking down.

                                                                        Photo by Margaret Della Santina

    Here, I decided, was the perfect place to spread some of my late husband's ashes, he who had hiked the Alta Via 2 with me six years ago. The wonderful memories of that trip have occurred again and again on this one. He would have loved to be here with us. I faced away from the view of Alleghe, gorgeous though it was, because of the wind, and flung the ashes towards other peaks, wishing Mike good resting in the Dolomites.

                                    Photo by Margaret Della Santina

    From time to time along the trail we have been seeing memorials to people who died on Dolomites climbs. Today we came to a large memorial with a statue (Mary? Jesus? A saint?) and a plaque with photos and a dedication to Marco Anghileri, obviously a beloved climber, greatly grieved.

                                   Photo by Margaret Della Santina

When we got to Rifugio Vazzoler, we saw more photos of him and a plaque in memoriam. He was 32 when he died on a climb.

    Later today we came to a memorial for another climber—an open frame with a broken climber's axe in it. Very poignant.

    The Dolomites take their toll.

    The day ended with a very long descent down a rocky road which was hard on my feet and on Margaret's, which also suffer from arthritis. Finally, though, we were at beautiful Rifugio Vazzoler.

                                                            Photo by Margaret Della Santina

We were in time for a late lunch, which, for me, included a very good polenta and a pork-and beef sausage called pastine.

        You would think that Rifugio Vazzoler, after all the descending we had done, would be in a valley, but, in fact, it sits on a flat spot with enormous spires above it and plunging depths below it. The rifugio was picture-book beautiful, with red begonias in window boxes, sturdy picnic tables outside the building, magnificent mountain peaks above it, and a wildflower garden on terraces down the mountain, though, of course, nothing was in bloom at this time of year. 

                                                                                        Photo by Diana Coogle

                                                           Photo by Margaret Della Santina

    Margaret and I were sitting at one of the outdoor tables, writing in our journals, when one of the group of German climbers—they were here to do some via ferrata—at the table next to us asked if I would take their picture. What ensued was a lively exchange of banter and get-acquainted questions. (They were the only people we met who made a snide—or any other type—comment about Trump.) Later, at dinner, they were very loud, singing and joking, and in the morning, when I saw one of the women and asked how she was, she said, "Too much alcohol last night." I hoped she wasn't going climbing later that day. 

Me with the German climbers.         Photo by Margaret Della Santina

Hiking the Alta Via 1: Day 6

Rifugio Staulanza to Rifugio Coldai. 2 hours, 10 minutes.

     After yesterday's long hike we would have only two hours of hiking today, so we luxuriated in our luxurious quarters at Rifugio Staulanza until almost 10:00.

    From the rifugio we walked along the paved road, which we soon crossed onto a gravel road through a logged area with large piles of logs and slash. (We didn't see much logging in the Dolomites, but some.) Then we headed up a lovely grassy hill,

                                                              Photo by Margaret dell Santina

down the other side, and across a road to the last climb of the day to Rifugio Coldai.

    At the start of the winding, narrow, stone-and-gravel road to the rifugio, a World War I mule track, we passed a small house with a large flock of sheep around it.

                                                        Photo by Diana Coogle

Just then, a car passed us and went up the driveway. I caught sight of "Socorro Alpini" on the side door. Shortly after that a drone buzzed overhead as we were hiking. It hesitated a good long time over us, tipping slightly. At first we were annoyed by the intrusion and the noise, but then we realized that the car must have been a search-and-rescue operation and that the drone, sent to spot the person in trouble, was making sure it wasn't one of us. 

    I loved the hike up the road to Rifugio Coldai. Though the mountain was very steep, the road zigzagged at the perfect rate for my pace.

                                      Photo by Margaret dell Santina
William on the road to Coldai. 

I ignored all shortcuts between switchbacks and kept on with my steady ascent with no stops and no change of breath. The trail turned sharply uphill at the end, but my pace held steady to the top, where the road flattened just enough to lead to the rifugio.

    On the other hand, the woman hiking behind me was talking on her cell phone all the way up.

  Rifugio Coldai.                          Photo by Diana Coogle

    Although Rifugio Coldai is an old building, it looked new and modernized, as did all the rifugios we had been in so far. William speculated that the government, who owned most of the rifugios, took advantage of the COVID hiatus to make renovations.

    We left our boots in the shoe room, as at all the rifugios,

                                                             Photo by Margaret dell Santina

and ordered lunch in the dining room, which was very crowded. It amazed me that so many people would make that long, difficult trek for lunch here. The two outlets for charging cell phones were in high demand.

                                      Photo by Margaret dell Santina

    After lunch Margaret and William disappeared, while I stayed in the dining room, writing in my journal. After a while I disturbed the young woman at the outside end of the bench to go to the bar for a spritz. The bright orange Campari spritz that I returned with opened a conversation, and soon, in the way of hikers on the Alta Vias in the Dolomites, we had become friends. She (Dana) and her husband (Neil), who was sitting across the table, were from Colorado and had taken early retirement from their jobs as environmental lawyers. They were hikers and skiers. After this trip in the Dolomites they would be hiking in Switzerland. At dinner time William and Margaret joined us, and for the first time on our hike, we were sharing a table with  friends. Until Coldai, rifugios had assigned tables to specific guests. Ours was usually for "Della Santina" because Margaret had made most of the reservations, a task I was immensely grateful to have her do. On two occasions, though, I had made the original contact, so the reservation, for lodging and board, was in my name.

Our table at Lagazuoi. Photo by Margaret Della Santina

     

    

Hiking the Alta Via 1: Day 5

 Nuvolau to Staulanza. 6 hours, 40 minutes

    

    Nuvolau presented a splendid sunrise this morning. I watched the sun streaking rays above the clouds, breaking through a hole in them to drop gold and copper coins on the clouds and peaks. Stunning, from that rifugio in the clouds.

    Today would be a long day, so we started down the trail immediately after breakfast, dressed warmly. First we retraced the rock-climb trail down to Rifugio Averau.

                                            Photo by Margaret della Santina

At Averau we stopped to read the kiosk display about World War I activity.The cable car apparatus we could see heading down the mountain had brought wounded men down the hill and supplies up. Mules were also used. One soldier managed to bring up cats and a dog for the soldiers stationed on this lonely mountain.

    Finally we headed down the mountain on a very steep, rocky, fall-on-your-butt (I did once) trail, a sort of "via" that could have used some ferrata!

                                            Photo by Margaret della Santina

In fact, there was a via ferrata route down from Nuvolau, which we had been advised, given the weather and other factors, not to take. As we hiked under the cliff on which Nuvolau sat, Margaret kept looking for the via ferrata route we hadn't taken. I think she wished we could have done it. I think she wants to come back.

    After we came down that mountain, we went up another one, in the general way of the Dolomites. A rendition of the AV1 begins to sound repetitious: hike up, hike down, hike up, hike down. But the landscape varied rapidly, and there was always something interesting on the way. Today we passed beautiful and paved-road-accessible Rifugio Giau, where we stopped for a coffee.

                                                                            Photo by William della Santina

    We climbed a short but steep ascent to a narrow pass, where we met a man carrying a camera and a tripod (hiking all that distance with that heavy equipment!). He took our picture there at the pass.

I'm sorry to say, though, that I didn't much like him because to say he was hiking with his wife is to exaggerate the "with." The trail seemed to be difficult for her, and as we descended the other side of the pass, I noticed that he was walking very far ahead of her, as though annoyed with her. I felt sorry for her and irritated with him.
    We walked through wide grassy pastures today, too,

Margaret and me on the trail.                    Photo by William della Santina

once with a large flock of sheep grazing and baaing on the hills and, at a great distance, a shepherd lying in the grass with his dogs. Suddenly the dogs jumped up and started turning the sheep, obviously at a signal from the shepherd. A little dachshund ran with the other dogs, as fast as his little legs could carry him, doing nothing to help but having a great time and feeling important. The sheep made a cream-colored flow as they turned.

    Not too far beyond the sheep, we passed a sign to a Mesolithic burial site. Margaret contemplated turning off our route to see it, but it looked like a long detour, so we stuck to our route. Today was already going to be a long day.

    Finally, after walking for hours, up hill and down, we came at last to Rifugio di Fiume, where we would have stayed the night except that it was full when we went to make our reservations. That's why today's hike was a long one: we had to walk another hour and a half to get to Rifugio Staulanza. There was a long discussion at di Fiume about whether to turn onto a different trail. William consulted his online maps. Margaret had a paper map, and I had Gillian Price's guidebook. We consulted and argued and tried to figure out the right trail. Ultimately I dropped out of the discussion because I have such a poor sense of direction I was just muddling the picture. When some other hikers came by, we consulted with them, too, and determined that we should take the turn-off through the forest—another root-strewn, muddy trail through a beautiful forest.

                             Photo by Margaret della Santina

    Finally we dropped over a hill and Rifugio Staulanza was before us, situated on a paved road that smacked of civilization. 

                                                           Photo by Diana Coogle

Here we had the luxury of a private room with four beds (not bunks) and our own bathroom and shower—and the bonus of a rainbow over the mountains.

                                             Photo by Margaret della Santina

    We had been eight hours on our feet except for a short coffee break at Rifugio Giau. I flung myself on the bed and let my feet throb. I took a good long shower in our private bathroom and washed some clothes. We had a very good dinner (pumpkin ravioli for me). Then I went to bed. I didn't even hear Margaret and William when they came in.

    

Hiking the Alta Via 1: Day 4

Lagazuoi to Nuvolau. 8.7 miles. Supposedly a 5-hour day, but longer for us, due to backtracking. 

    This was a day of great variation.

    (1) Lost hat. First we had to descend all those tight zig-zags on the trail from Lagazuoi down to the signpost for Rifugio Nuvolau on the plateau, at which point Margaret discovered that she had left her hat at the rifugio. So she left her pack with William and me and climbed all the way back up to the rifugio! In much too short a time to have done such a climb, she was back, with her hat, which, being the same color as the coverlet on the bed, she had not noticed when she was packing up.

    (2) Backtracking ("again," for Margaret). William, Margaret, and I climbed down the hill and came to a beautiful transparent stream falling into a deep hole. There the trail seemed to peter out. William climbed down the cliff anyway, but Margaret and I decided it was better (safer) to huff back up the trail, cut across the hill, and join the gravel World War I road that we probably should have taken in the first place. Then we hiked easily down it and met William.

    (3) World War I structures. We passed more rock-built World War I shelters and other structures, always interesting, and sobering to think of soldiers in these mountains.

                                                                            Photo by William della Santina

    (3) Rock climbers. As we hiked under the base of great sheer cliffs, we noticed the climbers, first a few, then more and more, clinging to the rock surface, looking like children's stickers. Our easy walking allowed ample opportunity to gawk at them doing their superhuman, incomprehensible, fly-on-a-wall climbs. We continued on a gentle downhill, eventually coming to a large grassy hillside where a flock of sheep was grazing, with its shepherd and dogs lying on a distant hillside. Large flocks of sheep or small herds of cows were not uncommon in the Dolomites.

                                                            Photo by Diana Coogle

    (4) Steep again. We crossed a paved road and started up, through the greenery of a forest and deciduous undergrowth, going steadily up.

                                            Photo by Margaret Della Santina

Soon we came out of the greenery onto another steep, curving, gravel road. We passed a classy-looking rifugio under the stunning rock formation called Cinque Torri, five towers, which is what it looked like.

Cinque Torri.                 Photo by Diana Coogle

There were many hikers on this road, and as we climbed up it, a passel of bicyclists also passed us, on a very sharp turn on that steep gravel road. It was obviously a difficult maneuver. One man had only one arm. His handlebars wobbled like crazy, but he stayed in control. Very impressive.

    (5) Rifugio Averau. The road ended at Rifugio Averau, beautifully situated in all the rock, on the edge of a sheer cliff-fall, with extraordinary views up and down. Many of the many people who were walking this difficult road were apparently at Averau for lunch. Gillian Price says this rifugio has the best food on the AV 1. Alas, we had to take her word for it, since we were headed toward Nuvolau for the night.

Heading towards Nuvolau, William following me. 
                                                                            Photo by Margaret Della Santina

    (6) Rifugio Nuvolau. Think about it: "nuvolau" means "cloud." The rifugio is on the pinnacle of a rock tower. To get there we climbed on an incredible rock trail, steeply up the peak.

Now I follow William.                  Photo by Margaret Della Santina

Five minutes before we got there, the rain that had been teasing us all day turned serious. We donned rain jackets, then carried on, now over slippery rocks on the steep ascent to the top. At the top, the rifugio took up all the space on the needle-pointed peak.

                                                 Photo by Diana Coogle

All around were those incredible Dolomite peaks—sharp, like needles, or flat, like tables, or straight-walled, like boxes. A climber's dream. A hiker's glory. A skier's paradise.  Cortina, in the valley below, was the center of the Winter Olympics in 1956 and will be again in 2026. 

    There was a sculpture on the wrap-around deck of the rifugio, given to the rifugio by the sculptor in honor of his eight hundredth ascent in the Dolomites. (Or did he mean his eight-hundredth ascent to Nuvolau?)

                                     Photo by Margaret della Santina

    (7) Accommodations. At Nuvolau we were in a dorm room for eight people, which we shared with three others, in a sloped-roof attic space.

Before our bunkmates arrived.             Photo by William della Santina

There were no showers. We ate dinner at a table next to a warm fire roaring in the stove. The sunset was rapturous.

    Of all the rifugios, in spite of its spartan accommodations, I loved Nuvolau best for its situation. The rifugio on the peak. The rifugio in the clouds.

    

    

    

Hiking the Alta Via 1: Day 3

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.

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.

                                                                        Photo by Margaret Della Santina

We could see the trail dropping in zig-zags down the cliff,

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.

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.

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.