Buongiorno, ciao, salve! Vi scriviamo dal Nord Italia, più precisamente dalle splendide Dolomiti, nelle Alpi. È un’area molto vasta da visitare in una sola settimana, quindi abbiamo deciso di soggiornare in due zone diverse: prima, la cittadina di Dobbiaco, in Val Pusteria, appena a sud del confine austriaco. Il primo giorno è stato dedicato al viaggio, il secondo alla visita dei numerosi laghi della zona. È stata una giornata incantevole, anche se abbiamo incontrato un autista di autobus così preso a chiacchierare con le signore sedute davanti che, fermandosi per farci scendere al Lago di Landro, si è dimenticato di aprire le porte ed è ripartito con noi ancora a bordo, diretto chissà dove.
Correctly proven stereotypes aside, we had had a lovely time when we awoke to day three, and our intended hike of the area. We had planned to hike around the Tre Crime (which it turns out means ‘Three Peaks’, not ‘True Crime’), however due to its popularity you need to book tickets in advance, which we realised too late. Beth, being the hero, got to work and found us an alternative; a route which would take in the Tre Crime, from a distance. By using this as a base and extending it down toward our accommodation, we suddenly found that we could step right out of our door onto the venture.
Initially, there was some debate first thing as to whether we should even go at all. The forecast for the day was uncertain, with even a threat of thunderstorms early in the afternoon. This is obviously bad news when walking through the mountains, and we had already seen how quickly the weather could turn. Indeed, the morning brought with it plenty of low-hanging cloud draped over the surrounding mountains. Yet through it showed a little blue and a sunny glow. So, we left, determined to at least try, at a quarter to eight in the morning.
We were actually based just outside of town, in a hamlet called Valle San Silvestro, which was already a little way up the mountainside. However, with 1547m of ascent to come, the order for the day remained “up”. The climb began as soon as we set foot outside through the greyness. With time in mind, we set off at a good pace, and our legs were soon burning. The cloud hung around for a while as we made our way around the edge of the valley, over a stretch of track followed by a winding mountain road. Not long after, the sun burnt away the cloud, the sky turned blue and the heat suddenly hit – and boy, did it hit hard!
At this point, we were approaching the start of the trail Beth had initially found, as well as the halfway-up (distance-wise) point. What was impressive was that we had only been going an hour, meaning that we were building in a good cushion to inevitably slow down when things got steeper, as well as putting us in a good position to avoid any unsettled weather coming later. We also found that we were walking alongside a tumbling mountain stream. I took the opportunity to dip my sweat-rag in its icy, refreshing water, which really helped keep things cool. With everything looking so positive, we stopped for some hydration and one of the sweets we had picked up locally.
And so, the real climb began. In true mountain-side fashion, this was a long series of double-backs taking us ever higher. Any lingering clouds were soon below, and every break in the trees revealed a stunning vista of the valley beneath us, mountains set against a clear blue sky. We made sure to take plenty of breaks, as we enjoyed the sunny trail which we had all to ourselves. Things had indeed got steeper since the first half, yet looking ahead, the map showed us that toward the end, we would take a sharp turn directly up the mountain for one final climb. Sure enough, we arrived at said turn. Straight away, we saw that the contour lines were not lying. This was going to be a true test of our legs. We stopped to prepare ourselves.
What I needed now was a scrumptious, sugary boost for the final push. Beth handed me what was promised to be a chunk of dried pineapple. I popped it in my mouth, braced for the sweet, refreshing taste. What I received was a sudden, overpowering taste of some kind of cinnamon-ginger flavour. The unexpected experience was briefly all-consuming. I swirled water around my mouth to get rid of the taste. This was not enough. I thought then I could eat some different sweets that might replace the flavour. Beth rooted around to find me some gummy worms lurking at the bottom of the tub, and I shoved a few in my mouth. This went some way to diluting the flavour; however, they were so chewy that they all got stuck in my teeth. This then became the new problem, and I spent a few minutes unpicking my jaw. This was the ideal way to prepare for the gruelling climb that was now immediately at hand.
And so, we took our first couple of dozen steps to our summit. We then stopped, for a breather. We then did another minute of walking. And then stopped again. So we went on, as we made our way up through the trees. This was exactly what was required, though, and to do any more would have pushed us too far, and we would not have got very far without needing to run back. As it was, we made our way, little by little, up the last stretch. Slowly, the trees began to give way to open areas of meadow, and far-reaching views of mountains appeared all around us. Toward the very top, we went through an unexpected gate into a fenced area. This, combined with the occasional patches of dry poop and the distant jingle of bells, suggested the presence of cattle somewhere. However, the bells did not sound close, and as Beth seemed too focused on surviving to notice, I decided not to bring it to her attention unnecessarily.
Fortunately, we really were nearly there at this point. The exact finish line, however, was uncertain. We weren’t going to the very top of the mountain; that was still hundreds of feet very steeply up – no thank you. The instructions said that once the trees cleared, we would see a view of the Tre Crime, and the route would end. Well, the trees had indeed ended, and the famous mountains were coming into view, in between two nearer at hand. Yet, it still didn’t quite feel like we had finished. I managed to convince Beth to go a little further to find a suitable stopping point. A couple of minutes later, I spotted a small pile of rocks peaking over the brow of the hill above. Yes, that seems appropriate. We climbed up, and concluded the climb there. Perfectly ahead were the Tre Crime, and I would not be surprised if we ended up stopping exactly where the route had intended in the end.
We dropped the bag on the floor and settled down in the warm grass. We enjoyed our packets of Peanut M&Ms as we took in the view, not only of the Tre Crime, but of the entire mountain valley below. The skies remained blue and clear, as we relaxed and soaked it all up.
And then we turned for home. All the uphill now had to be undone. This of course, would be easier; however, it would still be a test for the ageing knees. Again, we took our time and made our way slowly down, leaving the high open space behind, and re-entering the woods. As long as we went slowly, it was just fine, and before long the steepest part was descended. We zig-zagged our way back down through trees and alongside colourful meadows, until we again reached the foot of the trail, where we finally passed the first couple of other people of the day. From there, we retraced the road, back along the track, and finally we found ourselves looking back down at Dobbiaco. The town was soaked in a lot more sun than when we had left, as we headed back down the same steep path that had started the day. We reached a bench halfway, realised we had not done the morning’s Wordle, and so sat down to enjoy what was probably our most picturesque game; the word also turned out to be ‘Mafia’, lol.
This route reminded us both very much of McKirdy Meadows, from our Honeymoon to Canada last summer. This is hardly surprising when you think about it, being a mountain trail up to an open meadowed summit, but the route was so strikingly similar that we both found ourselves keeping half an eye out for bears as we went! We also did fantastically well for pace, making it there and back again by one o’clock, as marked by the chiming of the church bells. The rain did eventually come, but much later in the evening, as we were making our way back up to the apartment after dinner.
The following morning, the half-past-six morning bells chimed outside our window to mark the rising of a new day. Not long after, we departed for the next destination of our Italian adventure, Santa Maddalena in Val di Funes. We were sad to be leaving Dobbiaco behind, particularly our accommodation, which had been quite the surprise. We really enjoyed sitting on the balcony of an evening, as the swifts, swallows and martins swooped all around us, and the church bells rang loudly – it was all very magical.
Matthew G. Huggins 