Alta Via #2 in 7 Days

Day #1: Into the Dolomites: Bressanone (Brixen) to Rifugio Genova

The AV2 begins in the quaint village of Bressanone, Italy. Also known as Brixen, this picturesque settlement sits in a valley surrounded on all sides by the beautiful and distinct Dolomite Mountain range. I immediately fell in love with this place. I couldn’t think of a better place to start my 7 day trek.

From Brixen, a path (and a road) weaves its way up to a smaller village that sits high in the hills on the edge of a cliff. It seems like a place where a village should not be and for me that is why it was so memorable. Here lives the tiny and charming village of Sant’ Andrea. Here is where my real adventure would begin. I started my day by walking by the village Church which is placed ever so carefully on a ridge overlooking Brixen and the vast Dolomite mountain range surrounding it.

Next, I would climb up and out of civilization by taking the switchback trail of Plose Mountain. This is a huge ascent (6200 Ft.) and one that can be avoided by taking a gondola to the top. Not surprising, but this trail was not particularly exciting. As I hiked up, I could see the gondolas taking people up the mountain in bunches. This did not help my morale, but it was only day 1 so the excitement of what was to come was enough motivation to get me to the top.

Once atop the Plose, the next couple of hours takes you on a gentle path along ridges overlooking the countryside. Alta Via translates in English to “The High Road” and I could not come up with a more apt description of the path I was following. This is a popular trail for day hikers and I shared it with many middle aged Italians and families. The trail was peaceful and the time passed by quickly. I took this opportunity to think about my current reality. I was back in the Dolomites. I was back in the most beautiful place in the world. I felt an overwhelming sense of calm. This is why I came back. This was what it was like to feel alive.

The highlight of the day was the ascent up to Forcella de Putia. A quick note about mountain passes in Italy. They have many names: Passo and Forcella are the most common. Sometimes they are true mountain passes high in the clouds and sometimes they are road passes lower in the valleys. The ascent to Focella de Putia was long but not overly challenging. The payoff was on the other side of the pass. Laid out before me was the first significant views of the AV2 and for me it was a reminder of just how beautiful this area of Italy is. Here I took a rest, ate some food and took in the scenery. The day was just about done. A single path leads southwest to Passo Poma and my destination for the night; Rifugio (hut) Genova.

Rif Genova was a spirited hut. When I arrived it was quite busy. Away from the hut there was a platform with some comfortable reclining chairs. I took a seat at one and reveled in the realization that I just completed day 1. Over by the main building there were some Germans playing an accordion and singing. They were also drinking… a lot. Like I said, this was a spirited hut. Later after dinner the music continued to play. When the Germans were drunk enough they decided to play a “game” that I was unfamiliar with.

It involved a large wooden stick with a rope tied to the end of it. The object of the game (if there was one) was to swing the rope over your head in a long sweeping arc and then violently change directions mid swing. The result (if done properly) was a loud CRACK that reverberated and echoed throughout the canyon. It sounded like a gun shot. The amphitheater effect of the CRACK brought everyone’s attention to the performer. The ones that were really good at this would be able to rattle off 5 or 6 straight CRACKS before inevitably hitting themselves in the head with the rope. Ouch. Everyone laughed and cheered. The whole experience was quite peculiar, but oddly compelling. After a long day of hiking I was ready for dinner and bed. Day 1 was really just a warm up for what’s to come, but it was complete. 1 down, 6 days to go. After dinner I went to sleep while the CRACK, CRACK, CRACK reverberated from outside the hut.

Day 2: Settling In: Rifugio Genova to Rifugio Pisciadu

Dawn. For me there is no greater time to experience the wonders of the Dolomites and the Alta Via. The light is soft. The air is crisp. There is an aura present that doesn’t exist after sunrise. You can sense the mountains around you looming and ready to awaken. Every sound was crystal clear. Each foot step. The tap of my trekking poles as they hit the rocky path. The gentle breeze lifting the straps of my pack and rustling them about. I could hear myself breathing. Each breath a bit more labored than I would have liked. Perhaps it was the effect of the altitude or perhaps it was the building excitement in anticipation of what the day would bring.

I would start each morning this way. Always leaving at dawn. Always on the path by 6AM. On day 2, as I took my first steps toward my next destination, I was completely attuned to the environment.

Even the cows were not up yet. I walked past a group of them as they lay in the grass looking at me with curiosity. This was solo hiking in its truest form I would hike for hours before I saw anyone. At about this time I would start to feel what I would describe as a “glow.” I call it a glow because I can’t think of a better word to describe it. It’s a feeling of anticipation spiked with adrenaline. It’s a feeling I only get in the mountains and I welcomed it with open arms.

The first half of the day was an enjoyable stroll that took me from one impossibly beautiful landscape to another. I had all of it to myself and I enjoyed every second of it.

I soon reached Rifugio Puez where I encountered the first hiker of the day; a German man in his late 50s on holiday. We chatted while I ordered 2 sandwiches from the hut and sat down at a table outside. He asked me why I ordered 2 sandwiches. I told him the last time I did a hike like this I didn’t eat enough and I lost a dangerous amount of weight. This time I doubled all my food intake. He asked me all kinds of questions. Where I was from, how long was I hiking. He couldn’t believe I was here from America and that I was only hiking for 7 days. He was on a 7 week holiday. He got sick of dealing with COVID in the workplace so he decided he would hike around Italy for 2 months. Must be nice.

I filled my water bottle from a water spout that trickled so slow I had to switch hands 3 times. It was an exercise in patience. We both laughed about it, said our good byes and I was off.

The late morning and afternoon was packed with incredible views and tough ascents. The first notable ascent was up to Passo Crespeina.

At the top I was rewarded with outrageous views of the surrounding mountains. These views seem to be never ending and for that I was grateful. I then descended to Passo Gardena and a road where I would get another sandwich at the Edelweiss Restaurant and refill my water. From the road the Trek up to my final destination (Rif Pisciadu) would be the 2nd most challenging ascent of the AV2.

I had read what I was in for, so I settled in to what I knew would be a long grind. The guide said, “Only attempt in good weather.” Well, the weather was perfect. Good thing because I had already been hiking for over 14 miles. I would definitely need to find that 2nd, 3rd and 10thwind. I could see the giant mountain pass impossibly far in the distance. It seemed like it would take me 5 hours to get there. I tried not to think about that. Instead, I focused on each step. I’d count the steps as I went and turn them into rhymes in my head. One-two-three, nice and easy steps for me. One-two-three-four, take 10 steps than take 10 more. Did I mention that solo hiking can make you a bit insane?

At about the three quarter mark of the ascent I encountered some snow patches and the first really challenging “aided” section of hiking on the AV2. Aided sections, sometimes referred to as via ferrata are found all over the AV2. They are comprised of iron cables, iron steps, and iron ladders. These are used to help hikers negotiate steep and dangerous sections of hiking. Some hikers opt to use a harness and clips to get through these sections, but most don’t. There were only a few sections that I would have considered wearing the gear, but this was not one of them.

The aided section stretched on and on. Many hikers were coming down from above and almost all of them used the harness and clips. Going down was a lot different than going up. My progress slowed. I accepted my slowed speed and continued to focus on one step at a time. I knew the hut was at the top. I knew that this was the last challenge of the day. The exhaustion weighed on me but I pushed on. It was enjoyable in the sense that it was a huge challenge. Maybe satisfying is more fitting word than enjoyable.

I took a moment and looked back on where I came from. The road from which I started was just a tiny thin squiggle on the horizon. Yes, satisfying was the right word. When I breached the top of the pass a sense of relief came over me. I made it.

Rifugio Pisciadu sits on a plateau right next to a beautiful mountain lake. When I got to the hut I sat at an outside table, ordered a beer and celebrated the completion of day 2.

Day 3: The Grind: Rifugio Pisciadu to Rifugio Capanna Bill

Dawn. The adrenaline of being in Italy had worn off. The effects of jetlag had caught up to me. I got little sleep. Day 3 was going to be a struggle. As I left the hut I seemed to be moving in slow motion. Each step felt exaggerated. My head was foggy. I drank some water laced with Nuun to give me a caffeine boost and some electrolytes. It didn’t help. I ate a balance bar and started my hike which took me along the side of the lake and up into a rocky outcropping of a mountain ledge.

The path led straight up and over the rocks. Metal cables and steps were fastened to the rocks. Another aided section. So early in the day, I wasn’t sure I could muster up the confidence to tackle this difficult section, but I had no choice. I took a deep breath, grabbed the cables and pulled myself up.

The next section of the AV2 was truly unique and very enjoyable. The best way I can describe it is to say it is what I think walking on the moon would look and feel like. Rocky, desolate and grey. A high plateau with no green in sight. The variation of terrain on the AV1 and the AV2 never ceased to amaze me. This section of hiking rejuvenated me and I savored the experience.

It wasn’t long before I reached Rifugio Boe, a hut that seemed so out of place on this landscape. I think anything would seem out of place on the moon. I didn’t need to replenish water or food so I kept going.

Eventually I came to Forcella Pordoi which was lift accessible and therefore a very busy place. Hikers were swarming the area. I used an outhouse that was placed in a rather precarious spot. Was the builder of this playing a joke? It was quite the photo.

What goes up must go down and the descent down to Passo Pordoi and the road was a rough one. The trail down was a steep switch back laden with loose rocks and packed with hikers. Focus was a key here as I weaved in, out and around what seemed like dozens of hikers as I made my way down. The descent took over 1 hour.

At Passo Pordoi I replenished my food and water and took a quick break. As I sat on a bench I looked back to where I had hiked from. High up on the horizon I could see Forcella Pordoi; a giant V wedged between two huge mountains. From where I sat it didn’t look that far away. It’s hard to believe that it took me 1 hour 30 minutes to get down from there. Distance can play tricks on your eyes out here.

The next section was a long scenic traverse that was packed with people. The most notable part of the traverse was the view of the Marmolada, a towering 11,000 FT snow covered mountain and the beautiful lake Lago di Fedaia. Despite the crowds I thoroughly enjoyed this section and took lots of pictures. My next goal was to get down to the lake and while it looks close in the picture, it took about 2 hours to traverse over and down to it. The temperature today was hot and I was at the point of discomfort where I wanted the day to end.

I stopped for a quick ice cream thinking it would cool me down. It didn’t work and it definitely destroyed my stomach but it was delicious. I counted it as a win. I then followed the road on the South side of the lake towards my next destination. I was headed towards Malga Ciapela which was a popular ski resort and little town in the valley.

It was a long descent following an old ski trail that ran parallel to the winding road. The heat, the sweat, the long decent; it was all starting to get to me and it was difficult to stay focused. It’s hard to articulate, but when I get to a level of exhaustion like this, it’s almost as if my mind and body shutdown. My legs keep going and so I kept walking, but I “check out” for minutes at time with no recollection of where I just was or where I was going. Well, I must have “checked out” for 40 minutes, because I walked by my destination hut by 2 miles! When I finally came to and realized what had happened, I was demoralized. In order to get back to the hut I had to hike back up the steep hill I just came down during the hottest part of the day. Psychologically damaged, I made my way up the hill. Sweat poured off me in a steady stream. My clothes were soaked through and I was definitely sunburned. The 2 mile death march to the hut nearly killed me and for the first time on this hike I wasn’t sure I was going to complete the AV2.

I had hiked over 17 miles and I was completely and physically spent. My watch told me I had taken 42,000 steps. What? Not only was I mentally and physically exhausted, but I knew that day 4 was going to potentially be the most challenging day of the 7 day trek.

I finally limped into Rifugio Capanna Bill ready to quit. All I could think about was how easy it would be to take a bus or a taxi to a hotel to sleep for the next 4 days.

The Alta Via gods must have been shining down on me because Capanna Bill turned out to be my favorite hut of the trip and my savior on day 3. I had my own private room and my own private shower. I was able to wash all my clothes, shower and rest before dinner. Dinner was minestrone soup, pork chop and potatoes. Desert was fresh fruit. I ate every last morsel of food and took an extra apple to go. This hut was a life saver and a game changer. A good thing too because day 4 would be one of the most memorable hiking days of my life and not in a good way.

Day 4: The Disaster: Rifugio Capanna Bill to Rifugio Mulaz

Dawn. I started my day 4 hike walking down the road with a headlamp. I wanted to get an early start because I knew it was going to be a long and challenging day. The more time I gave myself, the more margin of error I had. Today I would need every inch of that margin. The AV2 was mostly well marked throughout, however, finding the trailhead from Malga Ciapela was a huge challenge for me. I had the help of a map, the Cicerone guide and even GPS on my phone, but I still wasted 30 minutes trying to find the entry point of the trail. When I did, I wasn’t confident I was on the right trail. That lack of confidence followed me for the first couple of hours and ended up playing a role in my demise.

After a few hours I ran into 4 Italian men that were staying in a little cabin off the beaten path. They were out hunting. They didn’t speak much English, but they were clearly familiar with the area. I started heading in the direction I believed to be correct, when they got my attention. They said something in Italian that I didn’t understand. “Do you speak English?” I asked. “Don’t go that way”, they said and pointed to a different path. I said to them “Forca Rossa?” which was my next destination and the Italian man shook his head yes. I asked again, “Forca Rossa?” This time I pointed to the path they were telling me to take. Again, the man shook his head yes. Who was I to question him? He must know, right? Two hours later and I knew I had made a big mistake. I was way off course. My heart started to beat faster. Reality started to set in. I felt sick. From a high pass I saw a village and consulted my map. In my mind I thought it was Falcade which I could find on my map and use it to orient myself to get back on track. It wasn’t Falcade.

I had no choice but to head down to the village, which took me about an hour. The village was scenic and there were many people about. I stopped to talk to some of them and asked for help. To get back on track I had to get to Passo Pellegrino. First, I needed to know where I was. I found out and my heart sunk. I was in the small village of Sachet. Sachet was 10 miles away from Passo Pellegrino. The entire route was uphill. If I tried to walk it would have taken me the rest of the day. It was about 10:30 AM. I needed to get to Passo Pellegrino by 12 noon or I wouldn’t have enough time to finish my day 4 hike and make it to the next hut.

I found a small little grocery store and I asked if anyone spoke English. One of the customers did and was very helpful. There were no buses today. I asked if she knew anyone that would be willing to drive me. I could pay money, I said. She clearly felt bad as she shook her head no. She gave me some names of taxi companies to call. Not a single one answered the phone. I was stuck. I was done. I had failed.
I sat outside the store on a bench and started to put together a contingency plan. I would not be able to complete this section and I would need to find a ride the next day to a section further south where I could re-enter the AV2. Either way my goal of completing the trek in 7 days would not be reached. I was despondent.

As I sat there contemplating the situation, two Italian men in their early 20s were waiting outside to enter the store. They couldn’t enter as the store had a limit of 4 people at once due to COVID. They asked me a question in Italian. I told them I didn’t speak Italian. They went back to chatting with each other. Desperate, I asked a simple question, “Do you have a car?” They understood. They said they did, but not with them. I explained that I needed to get to Passo Pellegrino and I offered them $50 euros to drive me. They spoke to each other for a few minutes and then told me they knew where it was. They conversed a bit more as if contemplating the offer. They turned to me and said “Yes, we can drive you.” I almost cried with joy. They needed to get food first and when they were done, we walked back up the steep hill toward their house. It was almost 1 mile away. They walked that far, they told me, to get the delicious apples that the store sold. This was a simple life. In some ways I was envious of their lifestyle. I wasn’t sensing a lot of stress from these two.

I introduced myself to them and they did back. David and Lorenzo. Lorenzo got his car and we were off. The drive was a brutal. It was a steep uphill climb to and through the busy village of Falcade and then up to Passo Pellegrino. The road was narrow with one switchback after another. This walk would have been impossible. We made small talk on the way and I was ecstatic when we finally reached Passo Pellegrino. I thanked them from the bottom of my heart. They had saved my trip.

I had hiked about 5 miles more than I should have to this point in the day and I was tired, hot and demoralized. I tried to reset myself. I got something cold to drink at a little café at Passo Pellegrino. I ordered two sandwiches and drank a cappuccino while I waited. I was incredibly lucky to be in this position right now at about noon with an opportunity to make it the next hut. I knew it was a big ascent, so gathered myself and set out.

The first few hours were enjoyable as I climbed up and out of the valley. After a long traverse I came across about a dozen horses. At the time I thought they were wild horses, but I was later corrected by a German women who laughed at me for thinking so. It was still a Dolomites first for me and I enjoyed the majestic visual of these beautiful horses in this even more beautiful landscape.

The last section of the day was a difficult aided section that led up and over Passo di Venegiota. I caught up to a German couple just as it started to rain for the first time on my trip. Then there was thunder. I didn’t see lightning, but I can tell you that I wasn’t totally comfortable with the fact that I was holding onto metal cables while there was potential lightning in the area. I could tell that the German couple felt the same way and we had a certain unspoken camaraderie with each other. We were in it together. We all pushed on. The rain got worse and I had to put my rain poncho on. For the life of me I couldn’t manage to pull the poncho over my backpack. The German women graciously came over and helped.

We continued on in the rain. The hiking was steep and difficult and I was approaching the 18 mile mark and about 7K of elevation gain for the day. Translation; I was basically a zombie and I didn’t have the capacity to think clearly. The 5:30 AM start, getting lost, the village of Sachet, the Italians, the horses and now the lightning storm. It had been a long day. I remember thinking to myself that if I just keep putting one foot in front of the other I would eventually make it to the hut.

It was a relief to finally see Rifugio Mulaz. It looked like a helicopter dropped the hut in the wrong place by accident, but there it was sitting on a plateau in the distance. I didn’t care if the hut was upside down, I was so relieved to get there and put an end to Day 4. I don’t remember dinner, but I am sure I ate every last bite. I do remember that while sitting at the table, my legs were shaking uncontrollably. At the time I didn’t think much of it, but in retrospect, that was quite alarming. I was pushing myself to limits unknown and I truly wasn’t sure if my body would hold up.

To top off the day, I was assigned bed #14 which just happened to be a top bunk in a room with 30 beds. The remoteness of this hut made it devoid of creature comforts. There was no water for showers due to a lack of rain this summer. When I was packing for this trek I threw a small package of 99 cent alcohol wipes in my medical kit at the last second. Thank god because I used them to wash myself after dinner. It was quite the experience. At the time I was so tired, I didn’t much care. I went to bed #14, put a clean shirt over my eyes to block the light, put headphones in my ears to block out the sound and went to sleep.

Day 5: The Descent: Rifugio Mulaz to Refugio Treviso

Dawn. The physical and mental exhaustion I experienced on day 4 benefited me in one way: I passed out in my bed and slept 8 hours. I left the hut as one of the hut owners, an elderly man, was prepping the kitchen for breakfast. I said good morning. He was clearly surprised to see me. Not many hikers started their days this early. When I exited the hut, the air was damp and cool. It had just stopped raining. My pack felt unnaturally heavy when I put it on. The weight made my knees want to buckle. With a long sigh I took my first steps of the day. I felt horrible. I had no energy and at this point I was truly not sure I would make it through the day. In a battle of mind vs matter, matter was winning. Thank god I am a stubborn SOB because I simply would not listen to the logical part of my mind that said "this is simply not worth it."

The first half of the day was yet another ascent and it was filled with many challenging aided sections. When I crested the first pass of the day I was greeted with a spectacular scene.

The moon hovered above an impossibly beautiful scene below. It was enough to take my breath away. It was also enough to give me the adrenaline boost I needed to tackle this section.

In two sections in particular they posted a via ferrata sign as a warning. Lovely. I tried to focus every bit of concentration I had to help me navigate through these sections.

I negotiated iron ropes, steps and ladders. I made sure to always have two hands on the rope or ladder. One slip could put a very bad end to a very good trip. I must say that I really enjoyed all the via ferrata sections this day.

One ridge in particular looked quite menacing. Erosion had eaten away at the path and the only sure holds were the iron rope and strategically placed iron rungs to step on. I tried not to think about it too much as I made my way across.

The most memorable part of the day was perhaps the worst descent I have ever hiked in my life. It started at the top of Passo De Lede. From there the trail went down, down and down some more. It led all the way down to a river in the valley at the base of the mountain at which my destination hut lied. I didn’t know it at the time, but the descent was over 5,000 feet which is just plain ridiculous. Painful was not an apt description. Torture was more like it. I had to go very slow to avoid slipping, but I still fell 3 or 4 times. I was at the point where I would do anything to start going up again. This section destroyed my feet and my knees.

I didn’t take many pictures here because I was so focused on getting it over with, but I did get a good photo of a chamois. They walk on cliffs and ledges like we do on flat ground. Impressive animals.

To add to the torture of the descent you could actually see Rifugio Treviso, my destination hut, sitting on a faraway ledge tucked away in the trees. I could also see that in order to get to it I had to first descend an impossibly far distance down to the river well below where the hut was perched on a ledge. It really messed with my mind. When the descent ended I think my knees actually thanked me. All that was left for the day was a quick 30 minute ascent up a shady wooded path to Rifugio Treviso. I actually enjoyed this last 30 minutes and when I reached the hut I felt like the worse was behind me. For the first time on this trip I felt that I could actually complete my goal.

I ate dinner with a solo Italian hiker on holiday and we chatted throughout dinner. Perhaps the most memorable part of Rif Treviso was one of the young male workers that showed a real interest in me and my itinerary. His name was Marco. We got to talking and when he asked me what hut I came from today he immediately knew what I was all about. “So, you’re going to Rif Boz tomorrow then?” I told him yes and asked about the terrain. “All you have to worry about is Passo del Comedon,” he said. I told him I had read about this in my guide and I knew it was a challenging ascent. He said: “Lots of loose rocks… 1 step forward, 2 steps back.” I replied with “Sounds like fun.” He was so excited for my itinerary and we talked about how I was completing the whole thing in 7 days. He loved it and encouraged me. “You can totally do this!” he said. He didn’t know it, but he gave me just what I needed at a time when I needed it most. My discussion with Marco was one of the highlights of this trip for me. I went to bed thinking about this Passo del Comedon. I mean, how bad could it be?

Day 6: Surviving Passo Comedon: Rifugio Treviso to Rifugio Boz

Dawn. Getting ready on the morning of day 6 was no easy task. The exhaustion had seeped into my bones and was now a permanent part of me. Every movement was a struggle. My body was not interested in hiking today. My mind felt like a puddle of mud. I must have been quite the sight as I lethargically made my way outside. Luckily no one was up yet, so no one saw me.

The morning ascent was a bit of blur. It was as if I was drifting rather than hiking. None of it mattered because day 6 was all about Passo del Comedon. Everything else was inconsequential. At least that was my mind set as I continued to drift down to Passo Ceredo and the road.

Unlike most of the road passes on the AV2, Passo Ceredo was quiet with just a few people milling about. I found a small café and ordered a cappuccino, 2 ham and cheese sandwiches (which they call “toast”), a big bag of chips and a chocolate bar. I was going to need energy for the afternoon. The total cost came to $9 euros. What an amazing deal! I ate one of the sandwiches and the bag of chips outside at a high top table and waited for the caffeine to kick in. The next section of hiking was a long shaded path that headed towards the village of Mattiuz and to the start of the ascent to Passo del Comedon. For all that I built up this ascent in my mind, you would have thought it was Mount Everest.

The path was shady and flat and I enjoyed a relaxing stroll as I ate my chocolate bar. It was as if the Dolomite gods were back, but this time they were trying to lull me into a false sense of security. It was the calm before the storm. I wasn’t sure if it was a cruel joke or a blessing. Signs were posted every mile or so reminding me of my impending doom. Were these warnings to turn back? After pushing myself for 5 and half days this trek had evolved from one of adventure to one of survival.

I was awaiting my fate while continuing to drift down the shady path when the path turned south and headed up and into the mountains. It had begun. My ascent of Passo del Comedon was finally here. As I gained altitude the landscape opened up behind me. The views were once again stunning. I pressed onward and upward.

Unlike the other tough ascents on the AV2, Passo Del Comedon was not filled with aided sections of cables and ladders. There were some aided sections, but that is not what made it tough. This ascent was just plain raw and mean. The mountain was there and it was just daring you to climb it. There was also a psychological component to this ascent. I encountered one false peak after another. You look up and see what you think is the top, but when you get there you quickly realize that it is just the beginning.

There must have been 4 or 5 false peaks. Each time I reached it, there was another 40 minute climb to the next one.

There was one particularly difficult steep section that required you to hike straight up through thousands and thousands small loose rocks. There was no real path. It was essentially a giant rock pile placed on a very steep slope. I noticed that in the distance there was a crosscut that headed left across these rocks, under a sheer cliff and over to where some man made reinforced steps had been created to navigate through the rocky terrain. It was difficult to tell how far up this cross cut was, but I made a mental note to look for it. I headed up. I quickly realized just how difficult (and quite frankly dangerous) this section was. As I was trudging through piles of loose rocks I recalled what Marco had said to me, “One step forward, two steps back.”

I was so focused on each step that I must have missed the crosscut. I had gone about 20 minutes and 100 Feet too far before I realized what I had done. Standing there, feet buried to my ankles in loose rocks, It donned on me that I had no other choice then to go back down and find the cross cut. For the first time on this trip, I was legitimately scared. Going down this steep rock pile was very different than going up it. Every step created an avalanche of small loose rocks and it was nearly impossible to keep my footing. I fell 4 or 5 times just trying to go 10 feet across to an area that had larger rocks which I hoped had better footing. A couple of times I fell and slid down about 5 feet. The loose rocks spilled down the mountainside and cascaded in a thousand different directions. The sound of the rocks colliding and crashing into each other echoed throughout the canyon. The sound made the hairs on my arms stand up. I laid still waiting for quiet. Luckily there was no one below me for miles, so the rocks were no danger to anyone. To make matters worse, there was a cliff with a large drop off about 40 feet below me. The cross cut path went directly under this cliff. I tensed up on and tried to breath. I had to make good decisions here.

My biggest fear was being swept up in rock avalanche. I was afraid that if the loose rocks got enough momentum, they could take me on a ride and send me flying hopelessly off the cliff. The logic part of my brain told me that this was unlikely to happen, but these rocks were really difficult to predict. Each step I took proved to me just how little control of my footing I had. I fell a few more times and scrapped up my arms and legs pretty bad. My adrenaline was pumping. I tried to slow things down and think the situation through. I knew ever decision was critical. Do I go across more? Or do I go down? I went across another 10 feet and found some larger rocks to stand on. I rested for 5 minutes and put together a plan of attack. Down, to the left. Down, to the right. I slowly made my way down and eventually found the trail and the cross cut. The whole ordeal set me back 40 minutes or so and I had only gone about 100 feet off course.

Once back on the trail, I double and triple checked every time the trail went another direction. I was not going to make that mistake again. The emotional and physical toll that the misstep took on me was real. I had burned through my reserves and I was now running on fumes. I sat down and took off my boots. I poured out what seemed like hundreds of tiny rocks. Not sure how they got in my boots, but sure as hell didn’t want them in there. While sitting down I assessed myself. I had cuts and scrapes all over my lower legs and forearms. I made a mental note to treat those later when I got to the next hut. I stood up and continued on.

Two more false peaks brought me over a ridge and then I saw the top. This time I was sure because I saw a signpost. This was the top!!! When I reached the signpost, relief washed over me. I did it. I conquered Passo del Comedon.

Once over the pass, I looked out at what was to come. A long descent and traverse to my final destination Rifugio Boz. The last hut on my trek. I caught up to a German man who had just climbed the pass before me. He was sitting on a rock and resting. I would later sit at the dinner table with this man and we would talk for hours. I nodded to him and continued on. I then passed two German women. They would also stay at the hut that night. These were the only 3 people I saw since I started my ascent hours ago. It was comforting to see them out here. There was a certain kindship and unspoken admiration knowing that we all had just endured the most difficult ascent on the AV2.

At about this point it started to rain. There was no rain in the forecast so I shrugged it off and assumed it would be a quick shower. It rained harder. I put on my rain poncho and continued down the path. It would rain for the next 4 hours. Sometimes it rained hard, sometimes it was just a light drizzle.

There were a couple aided sections on route to Rif Boz. One in particular was dicey, especially given the rain. I crossed while making sure not to look down. The final stage of the hike was a small ascent to Passo de Mura.

From the top of the pass you could see Rifugio Boz sitting in a pasture. To get to it I had to navigate a slippery path filled with smooth brown rocks. This was the type of place where an injury could easily happen. When I arrived at the hut I felt both pride and relief. It was a long day. 6 days down, 1 to go. I was actually going to do this. I was actually going to achieve my goal.

Only 4 people stayed at Rifugio Boz and all 4 were hiking the Alta Via N2; Me, the German man and the two German women I passed after Passo del Comedon. It was rare to have so few people staying at the hut. It made the experience so much more enjoyable. One of the German women (clearly the alpha of the group) laughed at me when I talked about the wild horses I saw. “Those horses are not wild” she said. I told her that was terrible to hear, but I was going to pretend that they were wild because that makes the story so much better. She didn’t laugh. The German man was a solo hiker and was on day 13 of his trek to complete the Alta Via N2. When he found out it was my day 6 he was taken aback. I don’t think he believed me. He said he had never heard of anyone completing it that fast. At least not without aid.

The family running the hut were very nice and joined in on the conversation frequently. It was a bitter-sweet night for me. I was happy in that I thought that I was likely going to finish my trek in 7 days, but I was also sad. I was sad that I only had 1 day left and it would all be over. I went to bed in a giant dormitory. I took a bed near the door and the others took beds on the opposite side of the room. It was essentially like having my own room. I fell asleep quickly and dreamt of wild horses.

Day 7: Unexpected Brilliance: Rifugio Boz to Croce De Aune

Dawn. Dawn on day seven was not like dawn on the first six days. It was the final dawn and I was emotional about that. I left the hut and wandered along a grassy path trying to savior the environment as if it was the last few bites of a delicious meal. Once again I passed some cows that were lying down close to and in some cases directly on the path. My feet hurt and I was groggy, but I didn’t care. Today was the last day.

I always just assumed that the last day would be the worst because in my mind I picture the last day being all about getting out of the mountains and back into civilization. That was certainly not the case today. The guidebook spoke of the section between Passo di Finestra and Passo Pietena. It said that if you are susceptible to vertigo or if you are not comfortable in exposed terrain than you should not take this route. Hmmm… Interesting. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to that.

When I got to Passo di Finestra it was like entering a doorway into another world. Before me was a tapestry of green in all shades and hues for as far as I could see. Everything seemed to radiate. There was a buzz in the air. I could sense that what I was about to experience was going to be special. My level of excitement was off the charts and I could not wait to see what this section of the AV2 had in store for me.

The next three hours were three of the most enjoyable hours of my entire trek. This place was truly magical. The path ran along a ridge that weaved in, out and over ridges. White rocks both smooth and sharp littered the landscape, a distinct contrast to the dominating green.

Wispy clouds floated above jagged peaks and filled in the surrounding valley creating an opaque roof that enclosed the beauty in as if preserving it. I had the entire scene all to myself. I stared off into the horizon unsure if what I was looking at was real. I was in heaven and I didn’t want it to end.

In one section in particular the path narrowed and both sides of the trail dropped off into nothingness. The path was essentially a narrow land bridge with nothing but air on both sides. I now knew what the guide meant about vertigo. I felt a feeling of lightheadedness. It made it difficult to focus. I don’t think I have ever experienced that feeling hiking before.

The path continued on and I eventually came to long traverse that entered into the Busa del Vette, which was a lush plateau of beautiful green. Cows meandered about eating grass as the bells they wore gently rang. The sound of these bells carried far across the valley in a chaotic melody that was so distinct to the Dolomite region and the European Alps. The plateau landscape was unique in that it featured grassed over glacier mounds which created an interesting pock like visual.

The backdrop of the Busa Del Vette was the village of Feltre which was only a few Kilometers from the end of the AV2. I was sad to see this knowing that my adventure was coming to an end. I instinctively slowed my pace as if trying to delay the inevitable.

A trail led up and out of the Busa Del Vette and so ended one of the most magical sections of hiking I have ever experienced. When I got to the top of the ridge the last hut of the AV2 was waiting for me: Rif Dal Piaz. I stopped at the hut and ordered a sandwich and some coffee. The hut was filled with bikers. From the hut an old wartime road snaked down and out to Croce De Aune, the end of the AV2. I could see why this road would be such a popular place for bike enthusiasts. It had just the right amount of danger, adventure and scenery to make for a excellent downhill biking experience.

The last section of the AV2 was not beautiful or glamorous, it was just a steep and endless path and road. The path sections were shaded which was nice, but they were also filled with tree roots and rocks, which was not what my feet, ankles and knees needed after almost 7 days of arduous hiking. Every so often there would be a wood carving on the side of the path. This must have been a celebration of some local artist. Some of these carvings were quite elaborate and the anticipation of seeing them helped to pass the time. After hiking this road for an hour my body was done. Every step was one step too many. I had simply reached the point at which discomfort and pain was overpowering the feeling of satisfaction and self-pride I had for completing my adventure. I continued on for what seemed like three hours but was probably more like two. The path eventually connected with the paved road of the village of Croce de Aune. Houses came into sight as I continued down the winding road toward the bus stop which I assumed would be in the town center. It was.

Across the street from the bus stop was a little café and sat at an outside table trying to make sense of the jumbled emotions I was feeling. 7 Days had passed since I set out on my journey. Now, it was finally over. Was I happy? Sad? Content? Satisfied? I couldn’t quite place what I was feeling. I had put so much time and effort into the planning and executing of my goal. Now that it was complete it was almost as if I didn’t know what to feel. I felt empty, but not in a bad way. I had met the challenge that I had set for myself. I had experienced the highest peaks and the lowest of valleys. I had found what I was looking for.

Epilogue:

Art is defined as something that stimulates an individuals thoughts, emotions or ideas through senses. To me, mountains are the purest form of natural art and so I tried to focus on the emotional aspect of hiking solo. The surreal. The internal struggles. The physical toll taken. The power of adrenaline. The unforeseen chaos. The camaraderie of strangers. The moral victories. The failures. The peaks and valleys are very real and very much part of the experience. I hope that came through in the telling of my adventure.

Now that it is over, I think it is safe to say that found was I was looking for. I felt a deep satisfaction in completing my task. My thirst was quenched. The burning desire I had to head out into the mountains on a multi-day solo trek has subsided. I am content. My future will now be with sharing the experience of hiking in the mountains with the ones I love. I belong in the mountains. I always will. I will never forget the memories and experiences I had on the AV1 and the AV2. They are part of me now.

I am often asked which trek I liked better, AV1 or AV2? This is like choosing your favorite parent or your favorite child. There are pros and cons to each trek. The AV2 is far more difficult. The ascents are more challenging. The descents are less forgiving. It’s 25KM longer. I enjoyed the challenges AV2 presented more than the AV1. However, I found that many sections of the AV2 were incredibly crowded and easily accessible to day hikers. This took away from the experience for me. The AV1 seemed more remote, which I prefer. I also enjoyed the huts on the AV1 a little bit more than I did the AV2. Which trek is more beautiful? That is hard to say. Both are stunning. The AV1 has more of a family oriented feel to it. The AV2 is more raw and rugged. I cannot say which I like better, but does it really matter? Both are located in the most beautiful mountain range in the world. Whatever it is you are looking for, both the AV1 and AV2 is sure to provide it to you.

I am forever grateful that I had the opportunity to experience this amazing adventure. Now I am going to rest my feet.

-MikeHikeTheAlps, August 2021