Via Ferrata Merlone

Monday was my second real day of via ferrata-ing and I made dramatic progress, from a scariness point of view if not a technical one. We decided to take on the Ferrata Merlone, a short, but very exposed climb in the Gruppo dei Cadini di Misurina.

We parked the car just beyond the Lago di Misurina and hiked up a trail through the forest, across a beautiful Alpine meadow filled with what seemed to be an amazing variety of flowers, given the dry desolation of the barren rocks that towered above it. From the Rifugio Fratelli Fonda-Savio it was a short walk up the Alta Via trail to the start of the via ferrata.

Iron Ladders

There is not much that requires particular skill about the Ferrata Merlone, but that can be hard to remember when you are several hundred vertical metres up a rock face, with nothing but stones, scree and thin air beneath you. Parts of the route are scrambly, but most of the climbing is actually done on iron ladders attached at a variety of angles to the mountain. I was able to avoid thinking too much about the exposure and the only part I found at all scary was what the guidebook described as an "airy traverse" - a few horizontal metres on a particularly vertical part of the cliff, with only a slippy and somewhat broken ladder for assistance.

Tre Cime di Lavaredo

We ate our sandwiches at the top and enjoyed the views across to the Tre Cime di Lavaredo, but the clouds were drawing in and we soon decided it was time to head down. Unfortunately, a group of about 20 Czechs had decided to come up at that exact moment and they made their turnaround just as we arrived at the top of the cables. With the sky growing ever-darker, we started to make our painfully slow descent in the middle of their group, but after a couple of pitches the raindrops started to fall and, with all those people in front of us, we were going nowhere fast. To top it off, they were clipping 3 people at a time into each section of the cable (you should never have more than one person in each section, otherwise if one person falls they can knock the other off) and a few of them, with clumsy feet, were frequently kicking stones down the mountain, despite the fact that other members of the group below weren't even wearing helmets.

Nobody wants to be caught on the top of a mountain in a thunderstorm, but while being attached to an iron cable is about the worst thing you can do, sitting a couple of metres away from it is actually fairly safe, as the cable will act as a lightning conductor and draw the electricity away from you. We decided that the threat from the humans was worse than the natural dangers and stepped off to the side of the cable to sit and wait.

Luckily for us, although it rained a bit, the thunder and lightning never came and after about 20 minutes we were able to make our way down to the bottom safely. We had learned our lesson though: if you see large groups of people on a via ferrata, steer well clear!

Ferrata di Dibona

On Day 2 of my via ferrata experience, I decided to lower my sights a little and attempt a level 2 ferrata, the nevertheless dramatic-sounding Ferrata di Dibona. We took the Dolomitibus from Cortina to Rio Gere, then the ski-lifts carried us up the mountain to Rifugio G. Lorenzo. The first chairlift was hi-tech and high-speed, with a storm cover and padded seats, but the second was more like the mountain equivalent of a Regionale train, so the total trip took a little while (a lot less than it would have taken us to walk, though!). Up at the refuge, it was quite cold and the wind was blowing clouds around the mountain, but luckily not in the direction we were going.

Rifugio G. Lorenzo. On the left you can just see the longest
ferrata bridge in the Dolomites.

The via ferrata starts with some steep climbing, followed by the longest bridge in the Dolomites, which, compared to the scary wire bridge on my first via ferrata, (in St-Christophe-en-Oisans in France) was reassuringly disappointing, being very solid and firmly attached to both sides of the ravine it was crossing. We did the optional climb to the Cresta Bianca, which gave us a great view down to the refuge and the way we had come.

View of the ridge from the Cresta Bianca

The Ferrata di Dibona is essentially a fabulous, exposed ridge walk. It takes the whole day but most of the trail was not difficult at all, and definitely more like hiking than rock-climbing, although there were bits that would have been a bit scary if we hadn't been clipped in to the cable. You can either come down part-way along and take a not-very-pleasant path across some scree and back to the chairlift, or you can carry on all the way to the end of the ridge and down to Ospitale, where there are buses back to Cortina. We chose the second option, which included no less than 1600m of descent but took a very pretty zigzagging path off the mountain. Most other people seemed to be taking the other route down, so we had the path more or less to ourselves and returned to the bottom with aching knees and heads full of the stunning airy views from the ridge.

Ferrata dei Alpini

Cinque Torri from Falzarego

A little-known part of the history of WW1 is the battles that were fought in the mountains of northern Italy. The Italians were defending their border with the Austro-Hungarian empire and the ridges and summits of the Dolomites became the equivalent of the trenches in northern France. It seems unbelievable that anyone could fight a war in an environment so treacherous that one insecure footing can kill a modern hiker, but they did, and more soldiers died in avalanches here than were killed by poison gas in the Somme. This was not really a front that advanced, but more a line of defence, and the only territory that was won in the long-term was when Sud Tirol was handed over to Italy and became what is now called Alto Adige. Cortina is in the largely Italian speaking part of the region but in the towns and villages to the north, people speak German and have a stronger regional than national identity.

Remains of a WW1 Hospital at Falzarego

One of the consequences of the war that remains to this day is the network of vie ferrate , or "iron ways" that crisscross the Dolomites. These were originally built to allow the soldiers to traverse the mountains and are essentially assisted rock-climbing routes made up of metal cables that you clip on to, and sometimes steps and ladders attached to the rocks. The easier parts are just exposed hiking trails but the harder ones require real rock-climbing skills.

You can hire the climbing kit at the outdoor shops in Cortina for around 12 euros per day. As I had done one fairly scary via ferrata once before, as well as a (very small) amount of rock climbing, we decided on the first day to tackle a grade 3 route (out of 5), the Ferrata dei Alpini at Falzarego.

I was somewhat daunted by the vertical-ness of the cliff that confronted me at the beginning, but, knowing that rock-climbing is often easier than it looks, I clipped in and got started. Unfortunately, about 3 stages in, there was a point where I needed to step across ... or up ... or even just round a big lump of jutting out rock. And I tried, in every possible direction, with every possible body part, but I didn't yet have the balance in my legs or the strength in my arms and I just couldn't do it.

A little disappointed, I climbed back down and resigned myself to taking the walking path to the top of the route, admiring the view and taking pictures of all the pretty flowers along the way. And when my brother and his wife arrived at the top and confirmed that the rest of the climb was just as difficult (and much harder than the other grade 3s they had tried), I didn't regret my decision at all. Tomorrow, after all, would be another day.

Camping in Cortina

I left the B&B early on Saturday morning and hauled myself and all my worldly goods to the bus station. I bought my ticket and the man helpfully told me which stance to go to. This turned out to be just as well, because Treviso bus station has a high-tech system of screens which announce departures, but my bus never appeared on any of them. It was easy enough to find the right place though, as it was the only stop where at least half of the passengers were wearing hiking boots.

Normally I'm not a fan of long-distance bus travel, especially on winding mountain roads, but this coach was air-conditioned and comfortable, and from my seat at the front I had a fabulous view of the increasingly stunning scenery as we wended our way up the valley. And also of the unending drama between the driver and the passengers who wanted to get off along the way. The driver seemed to have decided that some of the stops were request stops and, as we approached them, would ask, in a voice that was far too quiet to be heard at the back of the bus, if anyone wanted to get off. If there was nobody waiting at the stop, he would simply drive straight past, only to be forced to screech to a halt as somebody appeared from the rear seats desperately asking to be let off the bus. For the one lady who had understood his system, though, he chivalrously offered to drop her off outside her house in the village instead of at the official stop. Nevertheless, I was glad that Cortina was the terminus and the bus would have to stop there!

My brother picked me up in Cortina and drove us to the Camping Dolomiti, which is just out of town next to the ski jump that was built for the 1956 Olympics. My brother and his wife had already checked in, so I went to the reception to explain that I would be sharing their camping pitch for the next few days. He had very few teeth and spoke dialect, so we had a hard time understanding each other, but although standard Italian didn't seem to be in his repertoire, he spoke very good French, which helped us to get by. There was a Spanish couple next to me who were trying to find out the best place to get the wheel of their car fixed, and, despite the fact that I don't speak any Spanish, I ended up trying to interpret for them. Any hopes of a possible career change I might have had were swiftly shattered, however, as when I left the office, I heard him say to them, "So, you need to repair the wheel of your bicycle?" Living in polyglot land is fun!

The man was actually very helpful though, and the campsite was lovely. It was shady and had a swimming pool and a great view of the mountains and, best of all, really warm showers and a bar serving delicious hot chocolate, both of which turned out to be an important feature of our holiday, especially when the thunderstorms drew in at the end of the week, soaking us to the skin on the mountain top and testing my 25 euro Decathlon tent to its limits!

Treviso

The main purpose of my trip to Italy this time round was to hike in the Dolomites. My brother and his wife were staying in Cortina d'Ampezzo and had invited me (well, actually, I invited myself) to join them. And, back in May, when I saw the price of train tickets to Milan, I bought them straight away. Train travel is relatively easy in Italy, and I figured I could work out the rest later.

Train travel is easy in Italy. Unfortunately, Cortina doesn't have a train station.

In high season, travelling to Cortina is not actually that difficult. Calalzo, the nearest railway station, is connected to Cortina by a shuttle bus, and there are long-distance coaches from Milan, Venice. Bologna and Padova. Unfortunately, while the transport network is very efficient, the websites which supply this information are not. But after a lot of digging around on the internet, I devised a 27-hour itinerary that took me from Paris to Milan, from Milan to Mestre, from Mestre to Treviso and from Treviso to Cortina.

And so it was that I found myself spending the night in Treviso.

 I stayed at the B&B Appiani 36, a small, friendly and very comfortable little place that I found on http://www.hostelworld.com/. Having dropped off my bags, I had a few hours to explore the city before bedtime.

Treviso is a very pretty little city, although I suspect there isn't much there to occupy visitors for any great length of time. The old town is surrounded by a very clean, very green looking river and fortified by city walls. I found my way to the centre, where, in the main square, I happened to stumble upon a show that was being put on by the local dance schools, so I sat outside on a terrace to watch as I had my tea.



I don't know a lot about dance, but the performances looked pretty good to me. What was strange, however, was being there all by myself. It was one of those occasions where all the local people turn out with their families, chat to their friends and run into everybody else that they know, and where the socialising is as important as the show. I love those evenings in Italy, because Italians do them better than anybody else.

But it made me feel glad that I was meeting my own family the next day. Italy isn't a place to be alone for too long.

Lost in Italy

Parigi - Lione - Torino - Milano ... Paris - Lyon - Turin - Milan*


It's become something of a habit for me to take this train at least once a year, usually in the summer, and my trip of 2012 started on Friday of last week, unsociably early in the morning. With three new books downloaded onto my Kindle, the entire archive of a newly discovered blog to read, and gorgeous scenery flashing by outside the window, I had no worries about how to fill the time. (I may have napped a little too).

And then I stepped off on to the platform in Milan and felt strangely disorientated. It was partly that the train, which used to go directly to Milano Centrale, now terminates at the Porta Garibaldi. I had to take the metro, and I was fairly sure it was the green line, but I couldn't remember which direction and didn't know automatically which buttons to press on the ticket machine. Apparently three years is enough to forget what a metro map looks like.

But it wasn't really that. It wasn't really the language either, because a diet of Rai television , Italian novels and conversations with friends here in Paris is enough to keep the words fairly near the front of my mind from one visit to the next.

What I had forgotten was how to behave. Not my manners, of course, but those small, subconscious signals that we give out that show that we are local or foreign, lost or comfortable in our own skin. How loudly do you speak? Walking into a shop, at what point do you say Buongiorno? Or do you use Ciao? And more than anything, when do you look people in the eye, and when is it safer to keep your glances to yourself?

For a couple of hours, I felt foreign. Then slowly it came creeping back, and I felt at home in Italy again.