I had my worst sleep at night on the trail, thanks to my roommate who couldn’t stop coughing and the kids on the school trip who didn’t seem to know silence. I couldn’t wait to get up and leave. It’s such a shame because Rifugio Coldai itself was situated at a nice location, perched at the edge of a cliff, and the rifugio itself is more than comfortable. Under different circumstances—circumstances involving either solitude or earplugs—I might have lingered over breakfast. Instead, I left in the morning, wanting to get away from the noise as soon as I could manage, nearly at the same time as Stephanie and Lisa.
The kids followed us to Lake Coldai so unfortunately the noise followed us and the lake wasn’t as quiet as I would have liked it—far from the serenity I had expected. The lake itself was stunning nevertheless, especially on such a cloudless day, it was like a perfect mirror held up to the sky. Luckily, the kids didn’t go past the lake so I was left with my own quiet most of the time, except when I caught up with Stephanie and Lisa or vice versa, which I honestly didn’t mind.
I noticed they are not very chatty hikers themselves—some people really are, but not me—which made ideal companions. They would speak whenever we came across something that demanded a comment: a jaw-dropping view of the far-flung views being framed perfectly by the mountains, or a monument seemingly dedicated to a late local hiker that we could only half-translate with our barely working Google Translate.
Halfway through the trail for the day, we walked past Rifugio Tissi, a rifugio that I remember being mentioned very often as a rifugio with a beautiful view; no surprise, because to get there you need to climb a hill, and I decided that I would rather skip the leg day and continue on with my journey to Vazzoler. There was this thought that somehow, I kind of just wanted to get it over with. I guess I was somehow experiencing yet another hump, but I told myself I was being practical rather than lazy as I continued straight ahead toward Vazzoler.
There was a strange urgency in my steps, this want to be finished with the trail that seemed at odds with the very purpose of being here. Why had I come to the Dolomites if not to linger? But I found myself checking my watch, calculating my distance, as if I had an appointment at Vazzoler that I couldn’t miss.
I lost Stephanie and Lisa at some point, and I arrived in Vazzoler by myself at around 15:00. The homemade spinach spätzle restored my energy, and inching towards dinner time, Patricia eventually arrived, saying that she took her time having a wonderful coffee at Rifugio Tissi and chatting with other hikers there. Maybe she had a point, maybe I should have done the same. Why am I rushing, when no one is timing me?
That evening we all gathered around a big wooden table: me, Patricia, Lisa, Stephanie, and also Phil. At this point, after days of coming across each other on the trail and in the huts, everyone in this table had become familiar faces, and I have learned about many of their stories. Patricia used to work in forestry; Phil worked as an accountant. Tomorrow, Stephanie and Lisa would leave the Alta Via 1, turning toward home while the rest of us continued on. Soon it would be just me, Patricia, and Phil again, moving forward on this path that isn’t quite a metaphor, but isn’t entirely not one either.