There’s something about surviving a difficult day on the trail that changes your perspective. After yesterday’s endless climb to Lagazuoi, I woke up feeling oddly optimistic, convinced that the worst was behind me.
I had to make the first decision of the day during breakfast: whether to take the cable car down or attempt the alternatives. After asking around, it was clear to me: the tunnels would be treacherously icy, and no one could vouch for the conditions on path 402. Everyone except Phil, who needed to head to town for medicine, chose the cable car. It might have felt like taking the easy way out, and I did feel like it was cheating for a bit, but at this point, safety seemed wiser than the pride of completing the whole route on foot.
My morning optimism led to an early start, and unfortunately also a wrong turn. Convinced I knew where the cable car station was, I retraced yesterday’s zigzagging path downhill. The trail was even icier than before, and it took nearly a kilometer of careful footwork to realize my mistake: the station was actually right beside the rifugio. The detour wasn’t entirely wasted though. Walking back up, I took time to look at the World War I tunnels I’d missed yesterday, remnants from when Cortina d’Ampezzo was located right at the southern edge of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, making it a prime location for the Italians to advance.
Back at the actual station, I found the others still waiting because the cable car would only start at 9. Because of the cable car ride, suddenly we were all starting at once, making the trail feels more crowded than usual. Knowing that it would be a shorter day than usual thanks to the cable car ride, I chose to hang back, taking advantage of our shortened day to sketch one of the lakes that I passed by. Karen and Juan Carlos caught up, and I fell in behind them, which was fortunate timing, because ahead of me were several challenging climbs that would have been straightforward without an 8-kg pack. I drew on my very recent bouldering experience, focusing on leg strength while my hiking poles provided crucial support, and getting some help from Juan Carlos in between.
Just before Rifugio Nuvolau, another challenge was waiting for me: a narrow icy path with a scree slope dropping away beside it. My running shoes weren’t ideal for these conditions, but the spikes Brynn had insisted on proved invaluable once again.
Reaching Rifugio Averau felt like a huge progress until I spotted Nuvolau behind Rifugio Averau, perched even higher like a fortress in the clouds. But yesterday’s challenge had taught me something about perseverance. The climb was demanding, but I knew I would made it at the end of the day. Nuvolau was built in 1883 as the area’s first rifugio and its location offered a 360-degree view around the Dolomites that I hadn’t experienced in any other rifugio. Arriving early gave me time to settle in with my sketchbook, take in the views while drinking two cups of hot chocolate.
The rifugio staff were some of the nicest people ever. As I was sketching, I also watched how they managed to run a full house while making everyone feel welcome. I shared my room with a couple and a British photographer who told me about his photography work, and how doing serious landscape photography made it difficult for him to do the kind of thru-hiking that I was doing because of all the gears that he had to carry.
Dinner this time was different with Karen, Juan Carlos, and Phil elsewhere. Karen and Juan Carlos were staying at Averau but I lost track of them, so I wasn’t sure if I’d seen them again. Phil told me he’d be in Nuvolau but he wasn’t here - maybe he chose to stay in town to soothe his cold, I’m not sure. Instead, I found myself sharing a table with Fran and Megan, an English couple who’d been camping the night before The day’s most surprising gift was a surprisingly strong WiFi - the highest rifugio “in the clouds” somehow had the best connection - and I took the opportunity to call my boyfriend and share my day with him.
Sometimes when I’m out in the wild, going through my slog day, climbing with no end in sight, I wonder why I’m out here instead of just chilling at home. Rick’s words during today’s breakfast stayed with me: the route is challenging, but it beats staying home. Looking out at the sunset from Nuvolau, I had to agree. I cherish my quiet days at home, but some views must be earned, and if the price was yesterday’s relentless climb and today’s icy paths, I guess it was worth paying.
