Starting the New Year in South Tyrol
Shortly after the holidays, I once again found myself at the airport on my way to Munich. We were on our way to South Tyrol to visit friends and go skiing in the mountains. South Tyrol is an autonomous province in northern Italy that borders against Austria and Switzerland and is famous for its dramatic Dolomite mountain range.
It was dark by the time we drove down and entered Italy, the snow falling heavily as we twisted and wound our way up the steep mountainside. The local church glowed behind a white curtain of snowflakes, a hopeful beacon as we slid back and forth along the steep road. We were a little worried we wouldn't make it up to the house in the final stretch, the snow had piled up high. At last, a warmly lit wooden house greeted us when we rounded the bend.
The next morning I pulled back the thick curtains to greet the most extraordinary view. Deep snowy hillsides, thick layers caked on top of Tyrolean-style wooden homes, a creamy later of fog sweeping through the deep valley, which then burst up into a majestic mountain range. I gaped at the serene landscape for several moments and then made a mad dash for my camera, which would soon scarcely leave my side for the following week.
I made the “mistake” of trying to work in the kitchen, which overlooked the valley and mountain range. It took every bit of work ethic I had to stay focused on tasks and limit myself to little breaks when I would rapidly fire off my camera to capture a particularly exquisite spotlight on the mountain tops. I'm certain my words and photos will fail to do the mountains justice, but at the very least I hope it will inspire some of you to make the pilgrimage here yourselves.
We were staying in a charming valley called La Val. It is a unique location with a complicated territorial history that plays out in its language, architecture, and food. The language spoken here is Ladin, which is a minority language exclusive to this area of the Dolomites. I think it sounds sort of like a mix of Italian and German, for obvious geographic reasons. The architecture primarily consisted of wood, and building exteriors were often decorated with floral motifs and Germanic typography. The interiors had elegantly carved walls, pillars, and ceilings. The wood was often plain, but the embossed layers gave it an eye-catching flair. The food of this area was a delicious and hearty mix of meat, cheese, and wines, and of course pizza.
On one of our first days, we went snowshoeing through Val Badia to the Sasso Santa Croce mountain. It was a spectacular day with moderate temperatures and bright sunshine. The snow was still heavily laden across the mountain range, which made the first half of the trip a bit slow and arduous as we trudged through deep snow fields. One particularly challenging hill had me pushing through knee-high snow until we reached a plowed trail that leveled out into the forest.
We briefly stopped at a large wooden cabin named Rifugio Ranch da Andrè for some hot spiked tea. It had a large veranda that overlooked an incredible vista. The peaks were rough and coated in snow, pine trees poked up in clusters along the mountainsides, gradually thawing in the midday sun to reveal their rich evergreen needles underneath. A breeze whispered through a grove in the valley below, causing the snow to glitter in the streaks of sunlight as it shimmered down into the plump snowdrifts.
The forest opened up to rolling white hills that met at the base of Sasso Santa Croce. We followed the curvature, until we reached the Santa Croce Sanctuary, my neck craning to the left the entire time to enjoy the geological formations. I had heard about the unique rocks in this place, but it wasn't until I witnessed them changing colors from pink to yellow throughout the day that I truly grasped their beauty and distinct traits. The sun would creep into the deep crevices, illuminating a new dimension of scale and shape. Every hour felt like I was seeing a new face of the mountain.
On another morning, we headed over to Alta Badia-Armentarola for some cross-country skiing. It was blisteringly cold at -15C with 70% humidity. Within minutes my fingers were searing with pain, even in my down-insulated mittens, and my cheeks gave up feeling almost immediately. The humidity from my breath caused wayward strands of hair around my face to freeze in place as I moved. After a few painful minutes of adjusting to the frigid environment, the prickling subsided, and I settled into the pace of skiing. We were spoiled and had the entire ski trail to ourselves, probably for the best of everyone, since I'm a terrible skier. The sun was still lazily making its way over the towering mountain giants around us as we glided over the gentle hills. I wish I could have taken more photos here, but it was dangerous to take off my mittens. Instead, I let the frosty air and solitude invigorate my soul.
Later that week, we went sledding during our lunch break. Our host lived close to a long, steep sledding hill, so as soon as the clock hit noon I tossed on my snow gear, and we raced to the top of the mountain. Well, it wasn't that fast. The snow was quickly thawing from a couple of days of sunshine and the slushy conditions made it particularly hard to drag a heavy, old, wooden sled up the mountain, but it was absolutely worth it.
We parked ourselves in the snow at the top of the hill and had a quick bite to eat before scooting to the top of the sledding trail. The path zigzagged down the mountain and I had to pull on the leather strap while leaning the other way in order to turn correctly. It was hilarious how often I messed that up, but overall I had an amazing 10-minute downhill glide. It was a treasure to feel like a little kid again, thrilled to bounce, skid, and fly over the snow.
When the weekend rolled around, we booked ourselves full of gondola rides to see some of the most extraordinary lookout points in the Dolomites. Our first stop was Cortina d'Ampezzo where we rode up to Rifugio Lagazoi at 2752 m high. We were the only group not stomping around in ski boots and eagerly clutching skis as the gondola took us all up the steep cliffside. Stepping off, we were welcomed by an incredible view of a jutting plateau in front of a towering formation of striated peaks. Directly below the plateau was a deep valley that extended far off into the distance to join the endless mountain range.
We slowly walked the perimeter of the refuge while skiers bustled about jovially. The wide ski path led downwards into the canyon between the peaks. I had a sudden urge to learn downhill skiing while watching the skiers gently swish back and forth in the snow until they quietly vanished from sight. Circumventing the other side of the refuge, I was enchanted by some exceptional lighting on the adjacent mountaintops as the sun shyly slipped out from between the heavy cloud cover. I fired off my camera like a madwoman, eager to snatch up the fleeting moments of luminary perfection. As with all the locations we would visit that day, I would have been perfectly happy to sit there for hours watching the sun shift and coax out another hidden layer of peaks, but alas we soon had to be off.
Our next stop was La Terrazza delle Dolomiti, Canazei. Again, an extraordinary view with even more mountains that took my breath away. One of the peaks reminded me of a bunt cake with icing on top. Our visit here was brief as we had one more location to visit and two more gondola rides. Sometimes that's just how sightseeing goes, a lot of running from place to place trying to take in as many wonderful views as possible.
Onward to Ortisei, where we'd finish the day off at Alpe di Siusi and Seceda. Ortisei is a major tourist city, and I'm pretty sure the only buildings there were hotels, restaurants, and gift shops. Thankfully, we were only there for a few minutes to take the gondola up to Alpe di Siusi. It was again a gorgeous location, with a beautiful ski trail leading out from the refuge in front of a majestic mountain landscape. We stopped here for a short while to enjoy some coffee on the terrace and watch skiers glide by as the sun started to wane on the peaks across the valley.
It was around then that we finally became aware of the time. Realizing the gondolas would stop in just a couple of hours, we had to rush to the next location. Not only did we have to take a gondola down back to the city, but then we had to run across town to the other side of the valley to grab two more gondolas to get to the top of Seceda. We managed to hustle quickly enough to get our rides up, but as we were taking the second one to the top, we realized just how little time we had left. The last gondola down would be leaving just shortly after we arrived at the top, and we weren't sure if we would make it. The walk down would be about 10k by foot along the winding ski trail… It was a tense few minutes as we crept up the gondola line over small wooden cabins that lined the mountainside. It was difficult to enjoy the beautiful view for fear that we might miss the ride down as it got steeper and steeper.
Thankfully, we checked with the gondola operator at the top of Seceda at 2500 m high and confirmed that we would be able to take the last ride down. We had just enough time to scuttle up the very snowy hillside where the wind and cold bit at our faces to see a phenomenal sunset. Poking through a wide gap in the clouds far off in the distance was a fan of god rays that lit up the distance peaks. Shaking and panicking for time, I barely managed to grab a few shots and give myself about two deep breaths of time to enjoy the view without the camera in my face before racing back down to the gondola. We were still able to enjoy the sunset in the cabin on the ride down, with the colors on full display too in rich magenta and purples splaying out across the sky.
Feeling quite triumphant at our collection of epic mountain views for the day, we returned to La Val for dinner at a wonderful agritourism restaurant called Lüch de Survisc owned by the Vallazza family. We had traditional Ladin food, all of which you can find on the website for this region called Alta Badia, and it was nothing short of mouth-watering!
Alas, the day came for us to leave our friends and continue to a small city called Dobiacco where my partner was planning to participate in a ski race. The race fell on the weekdays, so unfortunately I needed to work for most of the day, but we were able to do a bit of sightseeing nearby during lunch and after work hours.
Dobbiaco is a very small town and there weren't many restaurant options. We wanted to get out of the hotel for dinner and wandered across the street to Pizzeria Hans. The place was packed when we first entered, and we didn't have a reservation that night. The staff was very kind though and found us an empty space after a short wait. The food was extraordinary and the staff so attentive that we ended up eating there every day for dinner 3 nights in a row! The owner ended up chuckling as we entered on the final night, having seen our faces so often. If you ever find yourself in the area, I highly recommend Pizzeria Hans for its wonderful staff and food.
The days here in Dobbiaco were a blur, I don't remember in which order they happened, so instead I'll share the most momentous experience from my time there. One late morning we went on a gentle walk in Val Fiscalina. The sun hung low, taking its time ascending into the sky above the tall mountain peaks. I had seen so many beautiful mountains at this point of the trip, but this morning was the most exceptional.
Down the winding walking path towards Rifugio Fondovalle was the kind of lighting that photographers lust to capture. The peaks were chiseled and dramatic, looming over the white valley, while the sun backlit the snow dust flying off the peaks into bright white halos. The rocks were steaming as the snow rose in hazy waves. The sky was clear and bright blue, casting an azure hue over the thick snow that lay along the paths. I was overwhelmed with awe.
As we crunched on the snowy path, my heart soaring at the spectacle, I happened to turn my camera towards one part of the cliffside just in time to watch an avalanche cascade down in heavy white plumes. I'd never seen one this big before and didn't really know what to do since it was actually close to us. Thankfully, nothing much came of it, and we were able to continue to the refuge for a coffee while watching as the sun finally reached over the mountain top and the magical lighting was overshadowed by its intense glare.
