Dolomites Diary Day 6
40,634 steps

The Tre Cime di Lavaredo are a particularly iconic series of peaks in the Dolomites. We had found a hike which promised to be nine and a half hours of pretty intense climbs and pretty intense scenery in equal parts. We had slowly trained ourselves up for it throughout the week, gradually increasing the length and difficulty of our hikes (1, 2, 3 and 4) and taking a strategically planned rest day to avoid exhaustion.

So what did we do on the eve of our hike, after all our careful planning? Have a BBQ until late into the night, with plenty of alcohol to boot.

Needless to say, our extra-early wake up call was difficult. We rose groggily with slightly sore heads and set about making a carb-loading breakfast to end all carb-loading breakfasts ready for the hike ahead. The remnants of the night before's potato salad were squashed down into a giant patty and fried up. Eggs were soft-boiled and served with the rest of the soft seeded bread and lashings of butter and marmite. Nutella was slathered on bread rolls until we couldn't manage another bite.

We bundled into the car and set off. As we drove, the mountains along the road stood like pale ghosts in the silvery morning light. I began to feel slightly nervous about the hike ahead of us; with a steep climb of 7km in length and 1km in elevation, I was bound to drop far behind the others. Besides which, I'd begun to feel a slight twinge in my knee even when walking along the flat or around the apartment - but it was too late to turn back now.

The walk started off surprisingly gently despite what the elevation profile for the hike had suggested. For the first 20 minutes or so, we followed a river that meandered through a wooded valley and passed a couple of hotels. And then the real climbing began.

I was almost expecting something close to a vertical climb considering all the hype in the lead-up. However the gradient didn't really turn out to be any worse than what we had been used to. What was worse was the sun. It swamped us in heat and made every step upwards an extra effort amongst the sparse shadows on the trail, which we huddled in gratefully whenever we came their way. As we marched on, still slightly hungover, I quickly fell behind as predicted. To overcome the extreme feeling of oxygen deprivation, I did what I should have done at the start of the week and unhooked my sports bra. The difference in my ability to walk afterwards was incredible. 

(If anyone knows of a decent sports bra that keeps your puppies in place without simultaneously suffocating you, please let me know. I seem to have to choose between support and breathing and I'd quite like both when it comes to exercising).

I also started to mentally replay the first Harry Potter film in my head to distract myself from the effort but I got lost after the sorting hat. Eventually the punishing switchbacks ended and we came onto a gentler incline - but there was still no sign of our end goal. And then suddenly, there they were, peeking over the hillside at us.

As we rounded a rise in the earth, the Tre Cime di Lavaredo (or three peaks of Lavaredo) were standing imperially before us, piercing the blue sky. In front of them a little red and white hut sat perfectly in centre frame. We struggled on with our pilgrimage, forcing ourselves up the incline and pushing past stragglers to arrive at an expansive sweep of a view that extended in all directions. The Tre Cime stood impossibly against a backdrop of mountains in blue and lilac and rose.

The smell of a wood fire, the sight of hearty food and the sound of happy chatter from the other hikers was enough to almost move me to tears. We joined a table at the foot of the views and ordered radlers and devoured the breadsticks and Nutella we had brought to sustain us.

The next stage of the hike involved a 10km loop around the base of the Cime. We had already shaved an hour off the climb up so decided to plough on and stop for lunch later. The first part of the loop comprised a rather precarious and narrow track that had been worn into the shingle, around which bright yellow flowers proffered their honey-like scent. We barely scrambled around the other hikers coming in the other direction as we took a steep path upwards, upon which every footstep seemed to send a jitter of stones shooting out from underfoot.

Eventually, the path reached a small plateau at the foot of the peaks themselves. Here, crowds of people were gathered (way, way more than the reasonably deserted photos below would suggest!), the plateau being a junction for various walking trails. Some hikers had made a journey of hours in length whereas others had taken a short half-hour jaunt uphill from the nearby car park (yes, you can drive most of the way up there!)

From there, we took a path that wove behind the peaks. Up close, they looked almost pixellated - the way the layers of rock had crumbled at harsh angles where other stones would have rounded out smoothly. This path was much smoother, wider and flatter - but much busier to go with it. Still, we made good time as we charged onwards behind the peaks which stuck straight up in the air over our heads.

We dipped in and out of civilisation as we went, passing a couple of rifugi (the huts you can stop at for food, drink and respite) and crossing over their car parks at times before descending on another stony path and passing what resembled a cemetery of stone stacks, monuments to all those who had trodden these tracks before us.

We were sure by this point that we were almost back - until we rounded a corner and saw the vast expanse of space stretching between us and the rifugio we had drunk our celebratory radlers at an hour or so earlier. There were two options - another steep, shingle path that snaked along the flank of the mountains (like the one we'd started out on) or a slightly stabler option that dipped down into the valley floor and seemed much more straight forward.

We chose the latter and it soon turned out to be anything but - our viewpoint had obscured numerous twists and turns and what had seemed to be about an hour's walk revealed itself to be much, much more. We soon came across a very small rifugio that had thus far been hidden from sight and settled down for a simple lunch of vegetable soup and cheese whilst rich and smoky scents drifted from the kitchens. Our table was at the foot of the peaks with most of the seating being situated outside. Inside, there was barely space for a handful of tables, half of which were taken up by freshly baked cakes and tarts. It was whilst we were sitting there, eating our simple fare, that we felt the first drops of warm rain come like a warning. So we finished up as quickly as we could and sped on through the valley.

The heavy clouds that had brooded on the horizon during lunch soon dispersed again and we were treated to another batch of searingly hot sunshine as we skidded down a steep drop and then began a laborious and slow climb back up to the top to complete our loop.

"One last climb!" we kept telling ourselves, as the achievement of one summit would reveal another steep slope ahead of us. But then finally, finally, we were back at the Rifugio Locatelli, the end of our 10km loop and the beginning of the last descent for us.

We rested our weary legs briefly, replenished our water supply and then plunged down into the valley on the other side of the mountain, determined to beat the estimated 9.5 hour walking time. As with every hike from that week, we were astounded by the sheer amount of downhill there was to cover - had we really walked that high up earlier?

When we finally reached the flat of the valley floor, the dark clouds returned and followed us resolutely back to the car park.

We'd spotted a little wooden hut selling cocktails and ice cream at our starting point and decided to reward our efforts with a drink and an affogato each. Whilst we were sitting here enjoying our sugar, the heavens quite literally opened and the rain we had been expecting all week thundered down around us, sending gusts of spray beneath the canopy towards us. It was the feeling of utmost satisfaction - the conquest of the mountain, the comfort of the ice cream, the crash of the weather around us. And then we dashed through the rain back to the safety of the car with the regal mountains looking down upon us in a steel grey sky that jumped with lightning every so often.

And back home, after showers and an hour or so of flopping onto chairs and beds, we trundled into Brunico for pizza at a cosy little tavern, whilst we watched people pass by in dirndls and leiderhosen. The next day promised all the relaxing rewards of our active week; a visit to an old manor house and museum, a leisurely swim and a seat in the jacuzzi, dinner in an old castle.

Quite simply, the most wonderfully restorative break.