This is the story of my excursion along the Alta Via 1 of the Dolomites, a route through breathtaking landscapes, unexpected challenges and life lessons.
I can't say exactly when my passion for hiking was born. Perhaps during those walks in the mountains with my father, when as a child I tried to keep up with his long strides, or perhaps in my adolescence, when I found refuge in the silences of nature. Whatever the reason, I knew that one day I would face a challenge worth talking about. So, on a cold winter day in Milan, I decided to undertake the Alta Via 1, one of the most iconic treks in the Dolomites.
I still remember the moment when I opened the map of the Alta Via 1 on the desk at my house. The sinuous lines that crossed valleys and peaks almost seemed to call me. Ten days of trekking, over 120 kilometres, with stops in legendary refuges such as the Lagazuoi Refuge and the Nuvolau Refuge. It wasn't a decision to make lightly, but I knew I had to do it. I spent weeks preparing, buying new boots, testing a lightweight backpack and testing my physical endurance with long walks in the Ticino Park. Every detail mattered: a thermal bottle for water, a waterproof jacket to face the unpredictable weather, and, of course, my travel diary. I needed to write down every emotion, every glimpse, every moment of what I already felt would be an unforgettable adventure.
The journey began at Lake Braies, one of the most iconic places in the Dolomites. Getting there was like entering a postcard: the crystal clear water reflected the surrounding mountains, creating an image so perfect that it seemed unreal. I stopped for a moment to contemplate the view before placing my backpack on my shoulders and starting to walk.
The first day of trekking took me to the Sennes Refuge. The path wound through scented pine forests and green meadows, while the clear sky promised a perfect day. Each step was a small triumph, a celebration of freedom and connection with nature. However, towards the evening, I started to feel the first signs of tiredness. The climb seemed endless and my backpack, initially light, had become an unbearable weight. When I finally saw the Sennes Refuge in the distance, a small building nestled in the mountains, I felt a wave of relief. Dinner that evening was simple but delicious: a plate of polenta and stew, accompanied by a glass of local red wine. Sitting by the fire, surrounded by other hikers, I felt part of something bigger, a community of people united by a passion for the mountains. It was only the first day, but I already felt that this experience would leave an indelible mark on my life.
The second day started under the best auspices. Having left the Sennes refuge at the first light of dawn, the route seemed to promise an easier walk. The fresh morning air filled my lungs as I entered the paths that led towards the Forcella del Lago. The landscape was almost surreal: an expanse of alpine meadows interrupted by imposing rocks, while the sun painted the surrounding peaks with golden shades. However, the weather in the mountains is unpredictable. Around mid-morning, clouds began to gather rapidly, covering the blue sky within minutes. Before I knew it, a thick fog had enveloped me. It was like being in a muffled dream: everything around me was white, and the outlines of the path were now indistinguishable.
I tried to stay calm, but anxiety was starting to creep in. Losing the path in the mountains is one of every hiker's nightmares. I stopped, pulled out my compass and GPS, trying to get my bearings. But visibility was so poor that each step seemed to take me further from the right direction. After about an hour of walking, I decided to stop and reflect. The fear was starting to kick in, but I knew that panicking wouldn't help me. I sat on a rock, took a sip of water and tried to calm down.
While I was there, immersed in the silence of the fog, a memory of my father came to mind. He used to tell me, "Mountains never test you to defeat you. They test you to show you who you really are." Those words gave me the push I needed. I picked up the map and GPS again and tried to identify some reference point, even the smallest one. The fog made everything difficult, but after a while I glimpsed what appeared to be a sign on the path. I decided to follow that trail and, with my heart beating fast, I finally managed to find the main path again.
That evening I arrived at the Fanes Refuge, tired but incredibly relieved. Sitting at the table with a steaming plate of dumplings, I thought about that day. I had learned something crucial: no matter how difficult things seem, there is always a solution if you can stay calm and determined.
The next day was much calmer. The sun was shining again, and the route towards the Lagazuoi Refuge was a real spectacle: panoramic paths, jagged peaks that seemed to touch the sky, and the relaxing sound of small streams. It was along this stretch that I met Thomas and Lena, a German hiking couple. They were studying the map near a sign when I stopped to say hello. After a few exchanges, we decided to continue together. Thomas had a contagious enthusiasm, while Lena was an inexhaustible source of anecdotes about the Alpine trails.
During the journey to Rifugio Lagazuoi, we shared stories and laughter. Thomas told me how he discovered his passion for hiking after a difficult time in his life, while Lena spoke with sparkling eyes about the beauty of the Dolomites. That day, which I had started in solitude, turned into one of the most pleasant of the entire trip. When we arrived at Rifugio Lagazuoi, at almost 2,800 meters above sea level, the view left us speechless. The view of the surrounding peaks was breathtaking, and the sunset painted the sky in warm colors, transforming the mountains into an almost magical sight. Sitting together in front of a cup of hot tea, I understood that hiking is not just a challenge with yourself: it is also an opportunity to create deep connections with people who share your same passion.
The seventh day of trekking took me to one of the most awaited destinations: the Nuvolau refuge, one of the oldest in the Dolomites, famous for its panoramic position overlooking the valleys below. After leaving the Lagazuoi Refuge, the path crossed the Giau Pass, a place that seemed to come straight out of a fairy tale. The mountains around me stood out against a clear sky, and every step was accompanied by the scent of alpine grass and the sound of the wind among the rocks. The final climb towards the Nuvolau refuge was a real test of endurance. My muscles protested with every step, and the afternoon sun beat down on my back. But when I finally saw the outline of the refuge, a small stone building perched on the top, I felt a rush of adrenaline that pushed me to continue.
When I reached the top, I was breathless. And not just because of the effort. The view was something that cannot be described in words: on one side the Tofane, on the other the Civetta and the Pelmo, all illuminated by a golden light that made every detail incredibly clear. I sat on a wooden bench, with the cool wind caressing my face, and let the view imprint itself on my mind. That evening, the sunset painted the Dolomites an intense pink, a magic known as Enrosadira. I dined on a simple plate of hot soup and homemade bread, but at that moment I wouldn't have exchanged that meal for any feast in the world. There was a sense of peace, a feeling that I have rarely felt in my life: I was there, in the heart of the mountains, and everything seemed perfect.
After the night at the Nuvolau refuge, the return journey to Lake Braies had a different rhythm. There was no longer the tension of the first day, nor the uncertainty of the journey. On the contrary, every step was accompanied by an inner calm that had conquered me during the journey. Every glimpse, every curve of the path was an opportunity to reflect on what I had experienced. The mountains had taught me a lot. I learned that strength lies not only in the muscles, but in the mind. I discovered the value of patience, adapting to unexpected events and maintaining calm even in difficult moments. But above all, I understood how important it is to stop and appreciate the present moment, without haste, without distractions.
Returning to Lake Braies, I ended my journey sitting on the shore, looking at the crystal clear water that reflected the mountains. I was no longer the same person who had left ten days earlier. The mountain had put me to the test, and I had found a strength in myself that I didn't think I had. Returning to everyday life, I bring with me something precious: a wealth of memories, lessons and a deeper connection with nature. Hiking is much more than a physical challenge: it is a journey within ourselves, an opportunity to discover who we really are.
If you have never walked the paths of the Dolomites, I recommend you do it at least once in your life. Leave your comfort zone, grab a backpack, and go. You'll never know what you might find along the way, but one thing's for sure: you'll come back with a story to tell, just like mine.
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