The Dolomites: Spectacular, Relentless, and Worth Every Step

Alta Via 1

We knew the Alta Via 1 was going to be hard.

We had done our homework. Eight days of hut-to-hut hiking in the Italian Dolomites. Fifteen to twenty-two kilometers a day. Six hundred to seventeen hundred meters of elevation gain. We knew there would be long climbs and steep descents. We knew we would be carrying everything we needed from one rifugio to the next.

What we didn't know was that the rocks that form the vistas we came to see would also be constantly underfoot.

The Alta Via 1 is rocky when it climbs, rocky when it descends, and, somewhat unfairly, rocky when it goes nowhere at all. Even on a relatively flat, wide trail, I had to watch every step. I was constantly aware that one misplaced foot could mean a twisted ankle. My hiking poles quickly became indispensable.

There was essentially no easy section. No real break.

But there were the Dolomites.

Those jagged mountains are almost impossible to describe. Towers, walls, fins and peaks rise dramatically from the valleys, and the shapes keep changing as you walk. I could look at those rocks forever.

And that, ultimately, is why we kept walking.

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  Alta Via 1: Mountains beyond mountains, a view from Forecella di Zita sud

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  Alta Via 1: A Dolomite Ampitheater on the way to Rifugio Vazzoler

Leaving Lago di Braies

The Alta Via 1 officially begins at Lago di Braies, one of the most famous and photographed places in the Dolomites.

It is beautiful.

It is also crowded.

We arrived with our friends Nate and Mary Lee, our hiking companions from San Diego, and joined the stream of tourists admiring the turquoise lake and taking photographs. There was something slightly funny about arriving at the starting point of an eight-day mountain adventure and finding ourselves surrounded by people who were there for a few hours.

Then we put on our packs and walked away from them.

That was the beginning.

The first day introduced us to the rhythm of rifugio life: figuring out what needed to be accessible in our packs, what could remain buried until the next day, where to leave our shoes, when to eat, and how quickly we could get ourselves organized in the morning.

Our legs were already feeling the day's descent.

And then came Day 2.

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  Alta Via 1: Lago di Braies, the picture-perfect start to our trek

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  Alta Via 1: Setting off from Lago di Braies

1,700 Meters to Lagazuoi

Day 2 was one of our biggest hiking days. The 17 kilometers weren't particularly intimidating. The 1,700 meters of elevation gain were.

Looking at the elevation chart now, it appears that the entire day was uphill. I'm sure there were actually a few relatively flat sections, including some beautiful valleys. But “flat” in the Dolomites does not mean easy.

The trail was still rocky. I had to pay attention to every footstep. Even when the trail was broad and level, I was always thinking about where my foot would land next.

As we started the serious climbing, Mary Lee said:

“Oy vey.”

“Stop complaining,” I told her.

This would become something of a daily ritual.

The climb went on and on. At some point we reached a section that wasn't particularly long, but was extremely steep and completely exposed.

“Grand Canyon,” I said.

Except, honestly, it was steeper than going down the Grand Canyon.

I put Oren in front of me and concentrated on following him. At one point Nate suggested taking a picture.

“Not now,” I muttered.

There were spectacular views all around us. Far below was a lake. The landscape stretched in every direction, and somewhere in the distance we could see the route toward Lagazuoi.

I barely looked.

I was concentrating on one foot in front of the other.

I wish I could say that I stopped and appreciated the beauty, but sometimes hiking is about managing your own brain as much as managing the trail.

And then there was the weather.

A storm was forecast for the afternoon, and as we left Lago di Lagazuoi we could sense it building. We thought we were getting close to the rifugio, but the climb seemed to keep going.

We heard a loudspeaker, but couldn't make out what was being said.

We assumed it was some sort of storm warning. Maybe the cable car was about to close. Maybe something more serious was happening.

So we put on our rain jackets and started moving as quickly as we could.

We skipped the World War I caves we'd seen along the way.

Another zig.

Another zag.

Surely the rifugio was just ahead.

But somehow the trail kept getting longer.

Finally we reached the top.

It was raining.

We collapsed into chairs, ordered beers, and barely had time to sit down before lightning started.

We had made it.

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  Alta Via 1: Oren, Nate and me navigating the “Grand Canyon”

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  Alta Via 1: The trail to Lago Lagazuoi and the climb to Rifugio Lagazuoi

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  Alta Via 1: Reaching Lagazuoi in the fog

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  Alta Via 1: The view from Lagazuoi the next morning

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  Alta Via 1: A panoramic view from Cinque Torri to Marmolada

Down Into the Mountain

At Lagazuoi we had dinner with two sisters from the UK who would become our companions at several of the rifugi during the trek.

The next morning they told me about an optional route through the World War I tunnels.

I was immediately intrigued.

This was one of those things I should have known about before coming to the Dolomites. The Lagazuoi tunnels are both a historical and experiential highlight of the area. Fortunately, the company that organized our trek, Bookatrekking, had included the route as an option in our trekking app.

So the next morning we put on our headlamps and headed down into the mountain.

As usual, I didn't quite know what to expect.

First we passed through a large bunker reinforced with barbed wire. Then we reached the entrance to the tunnels, but not before crossing a short and rather scary ridge.

And then we were inside.

The tunnels were a maze. Every so often we had to guess which direction to take. Fortunately, if we chose the wrong tunnel, it usually ended fairly quickly.

The main route was essentially an endless spiral staircase.

Except this wasn't a staircase designed by modern architects for human convenience.

Every step was too high.

Every step was jarring.

And it just kept going.

My knees and joints were not particularly grateful for the experience.

But the mountain kept opening little windows for us.

Through holes in the rock, the landscape suddenly appeared. From the outside, the rock face looks almost like Swiss cheese, full of openings. From inside, each opening revealed something different.

There was Lagazuoi.

Then the cable car climbing up the mountain.

Then a valley opening out below us.

Every window was a photo opportunity.

So we took our time.

By noon, we were finally out of the tunnels. We stopped for a break overlooking the beautiful valley below.

We had traveled one kilometer in three hours.

We had descended almost 1,000 meters.

And we still had nine kilometers to go.

So much for making good time.

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  Alta Via 1: Entering the World War I tunnels at Lagazuoi

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  Alta Via 1: Lagazuoi and the cable car seen through a tunnel window

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  Alta Via 1: Oren at the entrance to the Lagazuoi tunnels

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  Alta Via 1: Taking a break at a window in the mountain

Via Ferrata: Fear and the Iron Chains

If you've read my other adventures, you already know that I have a pretty serious fear of heights.

That's one of the reasons I chose Alta Via 1 rather than Alta Via 2. Alta Via 1 has less exposure and fewer, less demanding Via Ferrata sections.

So naturally, before we even started the trek, Mary Lee suggested that we try a Via Ferrata.

My response was essentially: the only way I'm doing that is with a guide.

So we hired one.

And surprisingly, it was fun.

There was a rhythm to it: clip the carabiner, move, unclip, clip again. We moved together as a group, connected by a rope, concentrating on the next hold and the next foothold.

Some sections were hard. There were times when I had to stretch or search for the next handhold or foothold. By the time I finished the hardest section, I was definitely winded.

But my fear of heights never really activated.

Perhaps I was simply too busy thinking about what I was doing.

During the trek, we encountered chains and cables repeatedly. When the trail became steep and exposed, there was often an iron chain fixed to the rock.

I came to love those chains.

They were reassuring. Something solid to hold onto when the mountain suddenly became steeper than I would have liked.

On Day 4, leaving Rifugio Cinque Torri, we had a choice. One route included a series of Via Ferrata sections. The other went through the more picturesque route via Lake Federa.

We chose Lake Federa.

It didn't make sense to do a Via Ferrata without the proper gear and with relatively heavy backpacks.

We had already had our Via Ferrata experience.

We didn't need to prove anything.

Besides, the Dolomites had plenty of other ways to challenge us.

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  Via Ferrata Astaldi: Standing on air

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  Via Ferrata Ra Pegna: Moving together as a team

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  Alta Via 1: An exposed section of trail with an iron rail

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  Alta Via 1: A pretty exposed section on Day 1

Tissi: Hail and a Decision

The recommendation we had received for Rifugio Tissi was very specific:

It is one of the most beautiful places in the Dolomites.

But only go if the weather is good.

We set out that morning and the weather looked fine. As usual, however, there was a warning about afternoon thunderstorms.

We passed Lago Coldai, where the changing clouds were reflected in the water. Then we climbed higher, up and over a pass, and suddenly a completely new landscape opened up in front of us.

We looked up at the rock formation ahead.

And there, very small at the very top, was Rifugio Tissi.

It looked impossibly high.

The clouds were beginning to look ominous.

Should we go? Could we go?

We pushed on.

From where we were, we could see rain falling heavily in the valley below. It created dark lines across the landscape as the storm moved through.

And then, a little later, we could feel it coming toward us.

It's amazing how quickly you become attuned to nature in the mountains.

The temperature drops just a little. The wind changes. The light becomes darker.

Nothing dramatic happens, but your body knows before your brain does that something is coming.

We stopped and put on our rain gear—jackets and pants.

No sooner had we finished dressing than little white balls began pelting us.

Hail.

What?

Of course, we had been hailed on in the Grand Canyon too, so perhaps we shouldn't have been surprised.

Fortunately, the hail lasted only about fifteen minutes. And then, almost as quickly as it had arrived, the storm passed.

By the time we reached the intersection for Rifugio Tissi, the sky was a beautiful blue again.

After all that earlier debate, the decision was obvious. We were going up.

“Oy vey,” said Mary Lee.

“Stop complaining,” I replied.

We climbed.

By the time we reached the top, we were exhausted.

And exhilarated.

The rock formation around Rifugio Tissi was spectacular. Jagged cliffs rose around us, and the views seemed to go on forever.

We had a light lunch at the rifugio. The water wasn't potable, something we'd become accustomed to by this point. We usually carried enough water for the day.

We asked our waitress how they got supplies up there.

“By helicopter,” she said.

And did she come up by helicopter?

“I wish,” she replied. “We have to walk.”

I loved that.

This was exactly the kind of rifugio I liked.

A helicopter landing pad.

No tourist cable car.

A place that was actually part of the hike, rather than a tourist attraction.

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  Alta Via 1: Rifugio Tissi, small and far away

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  Alta Via 1: Watching the storm move through the valley

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  Alta Via 1: Hail en route to Rifugio Tissi

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  Alta Via 1: The view from Rifugio Tissi

The Last Day

By the time we reached Rifugio Pramperet, we were deep into the rhythm of mountain life.

Pramperet was one of the most remote rifugi we'd stayed in.

It also had, by far, the worst shower-time-to-cost ratio.

Two minutes. Five euros.

The limited shower wasn't a rip-off. It was a reminder of where we were. Water is scarce at these high, remote refuges. Supplies are limited too.

They did, however, make their own grappa.

The views were unlimited.

And they were majestic.

Once again, we faced a decision. We could take a shorter route through the valley. Or we could climb one more pass, which had been described to us as “the most beautiful part of the Alta Via.”

It was our last day. We were tired. The easier option was tempting.

I was particularly proud of Mary Lee for not opting out. There may have been a few “Oy veys,” but she stuck with it.

So we went up.

The first pass actually didn't seem too bad. Maybe I was getting used to the rocks. Maybe I was simply lost in the scenery.

Then we reached a short but very steep and rocky section. There was no Via Ferrata. No iron chains.

Unfortunately.

We had to scramble up using all four limbs. I yearned for those iron chains.

I looked at the rock. I deliberately avoided looking around.

And I made it to the top.

I'm OK.

Then I looked up. And there they were. The Dolomites.

One jagged mountain after another, stretching endlessly into the distance. It was a fitting final view.

And then we started down.

Two thousand meters of descent.

We went through forests and crossed fields and streams. Eventually we reached a fire road, which we followed for what seemed like forever.

For a while, it felt as though the difficult part was finally over. Surely we were almost done. Then we turned off the fire road onto a small trail. And suddenly we were reminded exactly what the Alta Via was like.

Our pace slowed to a crawl. We started worrying about missing the bus from La Pissa.

And then, tucked into a narrow canyon, we found one last little gem: a waterfall. It felt like a final gift from the mountains.

A few hundred meters farther down the road, we reached the bus stop.

We sat down.

And we were quite happy to sit there.

The bus wouldn't arrive for another hour.

For eight days, we'd been moving.

Up passes.

Down valleys.

Through forests.

Across streams.

Over rocks.

Into tunnels.

Through storms.

Toward rifugi that sometimes seemed impossibly far away.

Now there was nowhere we needed to go.

We just sat.

And reflected on the last eight days.

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  Alta Via 1: Cime di Zita from Forcella di Zita Sud

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  Alta Via 1: One last climb at Forcella di Zita

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  Alta Via 1: Finally sitting down at the bus stop in La Pissa

Dolomites, the Long Way Around

We knew before we started that the Alta Via 1 would be beautiful.

We knew it would be physically demanding.

What we hadn't understood was just how relentless the trail would be. Fifteen to twenty-two kilometers a day doesn't sound extraordinary until every kilometer is rocky. Six hundred to seventeen hundred meters of elevation gain doesn't fully capture what it feels like to climb and scramble for hours with a pack on your back.

And yet, when I think about the trek now, I don't primarily remember the tired legs.

I remember the mountains.

I remember the changing clouds reflected in Lago Coldai.

The rain falling in dark lines across the valley.

The hail.

The tunnels and the little windows cut into the rock.

The cable car passing us while we were inside the mountain.

The iron chains that became our friends.

The tiny Rifugio Tissi perched impossibly high above us.

The remote huts where supplies arrived by helicopter and the staff still had to walk.

I remember the postcard-ready cows scattered across the meadows, peacefully doing their thing.

I remember the little Alta Via markers painted on rocks and stuck onto wooden poles, reassuring us that we were still on the right path.

I remember a butterfly landing on my sleeve.

And those rocks. Those extraordinary, jagged Dolomite rocks that seemed to change shape every time we turned a corner.

All of those things are part of what you get when you travel through a landscape on foot.

Maybe that's why we hike to places we could reach by cable car.

The cable car can take you to the destination.

But it can't give you the journey.

It can't give you the exhaustion, the anticipation, the storm you watched moving across the valley, the unexpected tunnel, the joke that gets repeated every day, or the feeling of finally sitting down at the end of eight days with nothing left to do.

It can't give you a butterfly landing on your sleeve.

Or a field of cows.

Or the little trail marker that tells you you're still on the right path.

And it can't make you look back at a mountain and think:

I walked across that.

The Alta Via 1 was harder than I expected.

There was no easy section.

There were plenty of “Oy veys.”

But maybe that's the point of taking the long way around.

You see more.

You experience more.

You remember more.

And sometimes, the harder way turns out to be the better way.

I'd go back to those mountains in a heartbeat.

I could look at those jagged rocks forever.

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  Alta Via 1: One very photogenic cow

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  Alta Via 1: Another handsome cow

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  Alta Via 1: Edelweiss, at last

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  Alta Via 1: A butterfly stops for a ride

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  Alta Via 1: The view from Passo Giau

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  Alta Via 1: Following the trail to Rifugio Vazzoler

Day by Day Itinerary

	Start	End	Distance	Elevation gain	Time
Day 1	Lago di Braies	Rifugio Pederu	14km	1027	6hrs 20 min
Day 2	Rifugio Pederu	Rifugo Lagazuoi	19km	1700m	9hrs
Day 3	Rifugo Lagazuoi	Rifugio Cinque Torri	11.7km	713m	7hrs
Day 4	Rifugio Cinque Torri	Rifugio Passo Staulanza	17.36km	859m	5hrs 34min (net)
Day 5	Rifugio Passo Staulanza	Rifugio Vazzoler	17.5km	1080m	7hr 46 min
Day 6	Rifugio Vazzoler	Rifugio Bruto Carestiato	9.5 km	650m	5hrs 20 min
Day 7	Rifugio Bruto Carestiato	Rifugio Pramperet	14.7km	780m	6hrs 30 min
Day 8	Rifugio Pramperet	La Pissa	21km	920m (2000m descent)	9hrs 15 min

Resources

Bookatrekking Full Alta Via 1 - complete booking of huts and meals for the entire trek

Cortina Alpine Guides - for guided Via Ferrata

Cortina Express - bus from Venice Marco Polo Airport to Cortina.