Alta Via 2 - the Dolomites
as far as discussing the Alta Via 2 goes, there is very little need for introduction. it’s a (relatively) well known trek in the Dolomites (aka the italian Alps), with a good balance of challenge and rewards. this opens up the possibility for all sorts of variations - would you like to skip a section? no worries. do you want more via ferrata to climb? sure, there are alternative routes you can take. wanna make it more challenging? go ahead, as long as you’re up for it. and the list of options goes on.
i myself have made a few changes to its stages, some by accident, some for practical reasons. but the “basic” or perhaps the “classical” Alta Via 2 is thoroughly documented in the famous guides by Gillian Price, published by Cicerone Press. i am sure virtually any hiker looking to conquer the Dolomites would have at least heard of the Cicerone guides.
the purpose of this article, then, is to add to Ms. Price’s writing, which, for good reason, mostly provides essential information. an area where i feel the Cicerone guide falls short is flavour: though i’d thoroughly read and re-read the stages, i still did not have a clear idea of what the hike would feel like. to me, imagining what a day’s hike will be like is nigh impossible without a wealth of descriptive writing. similarly, some of the online articles i’d read ahead of the trip did not quite cover what i wished for. accommodation, for instance, is an indivisible part of the Dolomites experience, unless, of course, you’re looking into alternative lodging, such as using the winter shelters or trekking between one expensive hotel and another (or plain ol’ bivouac, but that’s probably illegal). this, although covered on some websites, did not quite go in as much depth as i would have hoped.
nonentheless, i am not setting out to fill in all of the blanks. i’m just laying yet another brick on what could be a good foundation for planning your Alta Via 2 hike.
technical note
all of the sections of this article are structured as follows:
objective info, meant to add to Cicerone.
interactive accordions. click these for subjective, blog-style accounts.
info on accommodation.
for navigation in the field, i have used OsmAnd extensively, which can also be accessed via browser at home. though i am certain there are many other alternatives out there, many paid, i found OsmAnd to be perfectly appropriate for my purposes. Cicerone also recommends purchasing physical maps in addition to any digital solution for navigation. i find that perfectly reasonable. had i been a wiser man, i would have done the same.
stage 1: Brixen to Plosehütte
somewhere around Brixen. film.
it is true that the Cicerone guide most likely provides the best way of leaving Brixen. i, for one, failed to follow the directions laid out in the guide and instead wandered around the outskirts of town. i eventually stumbled upon a trail that led to Sant’Andrea, then grabbed the lift to Valcroce.
going on foot all the way to Valcroce is a perfectly viable option. referred to as “purists” in Cicerone, those who would choose to walk the full ascent instead of taking the lift should be praised. nonetheless, for those more inclined to save energy, especially if they’re planning to tackle the entirety of the Alta Via 2, the lift may well be the better option.
up top, the trail is beautifully signposted all the way to Rifugio Plosehütte.
closer to Puez, through the snow. film.
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i’d already taken it upon myself to try to finish the Alta Via 2 trail, in spite of the weather warnings. it wasn’t entirely normal to experience such heavy snowfall in september, which amounted to a flicker of hope for someone attempting a 200-kilometre hike through the Dolomites. maybe it had been a singular event and the last breath of summer would return to melt all of the snow.
with every added metre, the altitude gave way to ever more intense cold. on the plateau, heaps upon heaps of frozen snow awaited. underneath a thin layer of ice, the grasses still looked green, indicating that the entire area had flash-frozen. an ill omen, i thought, but carried on.
the rifugio was simply snowed in. i gritted my teeth and settled for the fact that i’d be doing a long alpine winter hike, but without the winter gear.
on that fateful september day, Puez had gotten completely snowed in. film.
the living conditions in Plosehütte, the first rifugio on the Alta Via 2, are nothing short of exceptional. expect a warm dining hall, with cozy booths, round tables, and an astonishing view over the Odle group. the latter becomes particularly spectacular at sunset, when the golden glow lights up the rocky ridges in an unfathomably beautiful way. on select days, lucky visitors, myself included, are even treated to a fine selection of yodelling-infused rock tracks.
guests can also expect unlimited warm showers, which certainly isn’t the norm across the rifugi on the Alta Via 2.
from a culinary perspective, Plosehütte did very well. it is no secret that one becomes appreciative of even the most minor of things in times of scarcity, which should explain why i found the culinary experiences along the Alta Via nothing short of delightful. the half-board menu at the Plosehütte could be, in the eyes of some, not the most interesting, but to a starving hiker like me, it clearly was.
the presence of two forks stood out to me from the very beginning. it conferred dinner the sort of aura usually reserved for high-quality eateries. i was elated. dinner kicked off with pasta in red sauce, some sort of ham i could not identify, and mushrooms. it was delightful and very appropriate for the occasion - starved for carbs after a day’s hike, it was like sampling God’s own cooking. this was followed by a ragù accompanied by two dollops of brown rice, the sauce of which had been touched by wine. my notes merely state “very saucy and fragrant” and there was the added dimension of cipollini (supposedly! i dare not speculate on Italian cuisine) but that falls short of describing what i truly experienced. to conclude in a spectacular fashion, the panna cotta that came at the end had a good serving of strawberry jam and a bold taste of lemon rind.
the following morning, breakfast was nothing short of hearty: fresh, soft bread buns, thick cut ham, and dill pickles, all in quantities beyond reproach.
you can tell i’ve enjoyed the meals at Plosehutte. honestly, i hope things never change for the worse.
the Odle group on fire. nikon d750.
above: more digital shots.
stage 2: Plosehütte to Rifugio Genova
a wet, snowy start for the second day. nikon d750.
space out for a moment and you’re liable to miss your trail entirely. as a popular area, Valcroce is host to dense network of intersecting trails. all i can really add to the Cicerone guide is this: be wary of missing your trail, especially in the winter or later in the season, when snow tends to linger. look out for markers, particularly around where these trails overlap. pay as much attention as possible when traversing the roads too.
the pass to Forcella di Putia. nikon d750.
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when the walk turns into a slosh, you know you’re in trouble. even without waterproof boots, i knew i could walk across the snow, but whatever covered the wet alpine meadows was anything but snow. my Scarpa boots had not been designed for such moisture and even from my second day on the Alta Via i could tell they’d begun decomposing. i’d be lucky to be wearing boots at all in a few days’ time.
given all the white, the hiking trails had all but disappeared. looking at OsmAnd, i figured i’d somehow, some way follow one of the many, many trails that criss-crossed the area. but the complex web of trails worked against me instead and i ended up on the “scenic” route. this, too, had gotten snowed in beyond a certain point. i walked back, up and down many vaguely defined paths. as i was reaching the lowest altitude of the day, looking at the overcast sky, countless rivulets, and my own wet and tired boots, i thought i’d abandon the trek altogether and just go to nearby Venice if things carried on like they had so far.
right before reaching Forcella di Putia, i witnessed a tiny avalanche in the pass, but continued watching the icicles shatter like shards of glass.
but the landscape did change drastically as i neared Rifugio Genova, making the annoyances of the day entirely worth it.
Rifugio Genova. film.
Rifugio Genova is well known among Alta Via 2 hikers for its beautiful wooden interior. what struck me as truly attractive was the little bar that greets you as you enter the mess hall, with its espresso machine, beer taps, and a little corner used for bookkeeping. there’s this sense of messy coziness hovering over this corner (though to be clear - the hut is anything but messy). that same spirit pervades the entirety of the mess hall. little alcoves provide a little bit of privacy within the limited space and it’s all part of the charm. but what truly stands out is the tastefully decorated wooden interior: each and every piece, from the log tables to the decorative plants gracing the windows, appears handpicked, feeding into an atmosphere of authenticity and warmth.
hardly in focus: the bar. film.
the upstairs living quarters are just as comfortable, though relatively simple: one should not expect water mattresses in a Dolomites mountain hut, but thankfully, the place is not too far off. hot showers are a paid feature: purchase your token downstairs, at the reception, and hope that your hot water doesn’t run out mid-shower. it certainly did for me and there was little warning the scalding water would almost immediately turn all but icy.
from a culinary perspective, i shall refrain from ample descriptions of my meal. Rifugio Genova does not offer half-board for smaller groups, meaning that my meal was a la carte. the choices i made were far from the best, so i won’t be covering that. but an absolute standout had to be the apple strudel, a staple, i believe, of any meal in Genova, a la carte or not.
it all starts with a striking exterior, all covered in powdered sugar and finely ground walnuts. the inside - rehydrated or perhaps candied raisins, soft and sweet, along with the classical apple filling… but with a twist. the twist? - the apple was thinly sliced (as opposed to ground), making the texture nothing short of remarkable. bringing the taste of the filling together was something akin to rum and cinnamon. sounds pretty good, right? wait until you hear about the warm vanilla sauce served alongside the cold (or room temperature) strudel, making for an extraordinary combo. i’m sure this has been said before, but the dessert alone was nothing short of a journey.
woody interior in Rifugio Genova. nikon d750.
above: more digital shots.
stage 3: Rifugio Genova to Rifugio Puez
the trail leading up to Furcela dla Roa. nikon d750.
while not as densely interwoven with trails as the previous section, this stage of the Alta Via 2 can still present orientation challenges, so be on the lookout for trail markers.
once you’ve passed Valle della Roa (Val de la Roa), the trail takes you across an exposed portion of via ferrata. in my view, to a reasonably fit hiker, carrying a backpack no heavier than 15 kilograms, this section is nothing to worry about. even the icy conditions i had to contend with failed to make the via ferrata that much more difficult, but bear your own circumstances in mind.
on the precipice of Val della Roa, minutes before heartbreak. nikon d750.
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though underfed, i felt fairly strong. i was bursting with energy and motivation. the day’s hike looked short and promising, but i knew fresh challenges awaited on account of the snow.
it all began with the ascent of Passo della Roa, one of those high alpine passes in South Tyrolwhere a pair of crampons would have really come in handy. “not to worry”, i thought, and simply carried on. i’d already devised a plan in case i’d get stuck, which boiled down to filing a satchel with gravel and hauling it to wherever i could no longer carve out steps. but that isn’t something i ever got a chance to implement.
having crossed into Val dla Roa, i swiftly found all of the trails had been snowed in. i temporarily followed a group of hikers, but they eventually informed me they simply were not heading to the same rifugio. so i turned back, walking back up the vale. my second attempt of crossing over consisted of following someone else’s footsteps. judging by the direction these headed in, i’d end up where i was meant to, but to my knees’ dissatisfaction, the marks simply stopped at some stage.
would i make it out if i walked along the outer “walls” of the valley? unlikely: rising temperatures had started melting the icicles. to stop and listen to the valley would mean hearing ice drop, not unlike the noise of shattering glass.
so i went and carved my own trail. in “third time’s the charm” fashion, i climbed a gentle portion of via ferrata and finally left the valley.
in culinary terms, Puez… did its best. i would guess scarcity was compensated for with creativity or maybe i just happened to visit on a slightly unlucky day.
after a spectacular lettuce-and-corn opener (note: the corn could only have been placed there for decorative purposes), tomato sauce pasta followed. at the time of writing this, i can no longer recall whether it was plain tomato sauce or not, though my notes indicate that had been the case. this was followed by a gigantic frankfurter, accompanied by a generous serving of mashed potatoes. dessert was a paper-thin slice of apple strudel, served with cream.
that said, i mean no disrespect to Puez. frankly, a three-course meal, with dessert (!) in such a remote mountainous region of the Dolomites is nothing short of impressive and i would dare challenge anyone claiming they would have put together a much better meal under the same conditions.
right before the via ferrata around the Rio de Puez area. nikon d750
accommodation, however, was beyond reproach, not matter how picky one is. cozy bunk beds, warmth, dedicated bathrooms, and a Starlink internet connection contribute to a charming, comfortable stay. the mess hall, too, was very spacious and featured several sources of warmth - some electric, along with at least one terracotta hearth i found myself drawn toward.
around the time of my visit, water was particularly scarce. this, then, could be something to bear in mind when planning your stay at Rifugio Puez.
breakfast, however, did not play by the same rules as dinner. along with the usual fixtures of coffee and possibly tea (i wouldn’t know!), yoghurt and muesli were first offered to soothe our collective hunger. this was followed by a surprisingly delectable wooden platter, populated with ham, sharp cheese, bergamot jam, and to my surprise, warm, fresh bread. i recognise this may be outside my depth, but i claim this was a masterclass in delightful simplicity: all these ingredients, taken together, made for a remarkably fancy and complex breakfast, one i see as especially memorable on the Alta Via 2.
Rifugio Puez. film.
above: digital.
stage 4: Rifugio Puez to Rifugio Pisciadù
Furcella de Cir, with a far away Passo Gardena. nikon d750.
get ready for some truly breathtaking views as you navigate this leg of the Alta Via 2. Passo Gardena is one of the most spectacular sights i’ve ever had the chance to witness… and possibly one of the last places to grab some supplies as you continue your hike. i simply haven’t much to add: enjoy the sights, make the most of your time. however, no matter the route you choose to follow to Rifugio Pisciadù, do not take the ascent lightly. i went through Val Setus and the climb was no easy feat.
the unmistakable beauty of Passo Gardena. film.
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though unenthused by my (still) wet boots, i ventured to the rifugio’s mess hall and really took my time over breakfast. with all of my things packed and my tab closed, i began the day’s trek.
within minutes, the landscape opened up dramatically. rugged and partially covered in snow, the Puez group appeared otherworldly. the emerald waters of Lago Crespeina were a refreshing sight, framed by many rocky plateaus. in the distance, it crossed my mind i could be looking at the surface of a foreign planet - similar in appearance to ours, but not entirely habitable.
but the true surprise awaited at Passo Gardena, where stopping for a cup of coffee simply could not be helped. i even took some time to browse the wares of one of the Passo’s disorderly shops - a collection of things with little to unite them thematically, a hodgepodge of items that had spent a little too long on the shelves. i walked out with a pair of sunglasses and proudly donned them for all of five minutes, before taking them off to use my camera… and forgetting about them for the rest of the day.
i was in for yet another shock at the end of Val Setus, where not only did the geological features shift once again, but so did the light, with a storm bellowing afar.
needless to say, i legged it to Rifugio Pisciadù, hoping it wouldn’t be the end of my hike.
looking above Val Setus, a sudden change in scenery. nikon d750.
i will preface my account of my dining experience at Rifugio Pisciadù by recounting a culinary interaction between the barkeep and myself. i’d asked for the recipe for a particular dish that was being served for dinner, one i found absolutely delightful. the barkeep, naively so, had begun telling me the outline of said recipe, eventually realising its details were only known by the chef. in effect, he went to the kitchen in hopes of retrieving said details, but returned with little more than a plea to stop talking. it turns out the chef had not consented to him sharing one of his trade secrets.
so what was this remarkable, tightly guarded recipe for? - beef goulash, with a well spiced, juniper-forward sauce. the accompanying oven-baked potatoes, themselves quite complex with scallions and a perfect texture, went with the goulash well.
before this star of a dish, meat pasta had been served, the tomato base of which had a light undertone of wine. maybe not a standout as much as the goulash, but certainly a solid starter to a fabulous dinner.
at the very end, a classical serving of apple strudel was delivered upon us, but it failed to have much of an impact compared to the rest of the meal.
the living conditions in Pisciadu impressed, as had all of the rifugi before: cozy, warm rooms, with walls covered in scented wood, and bunk beds. the washrooms too struck me as simple and functional, but water was abundant and the long metal sinks served their purpose excellently. the mess hall was tightly packed when i was visiting, but i eventually found it had been a heat conserving measure: a much larger extension had been closed off, one that could have comfortably hosted twice our numbers at the time.
oh, one more thing: i simply can’t recall breakfast accurately and i appear to have made no note of it. but as hard as i try to piece that memory together, all i remember is the generous amount of coffee i requested, as well as a modest cold platter, with a choice of two types of salami and cheese.
Rifugio Pisciadù, set against a background of the area’s typical geological features. film.
above: digital.
above: film.
stage 5: Rifugio Pisciadù to Rifugio Castiglioni Marmolada
leaving the Pisciadù area was no easy feat with all the ice. nikon d750
the route to Passo Pordoi is nothing sort of spectacular. not only that, but you can also access all sorts of alpine comforts on your way, gracefully provided by the Rifugio Boe or the shops and eateries at the Passo Pordoi. you should be wary of bad weather though, as a snowstorm not unlike the one that caught up with me could easily throw you off course: reduced visibility, short portions of via ferrata, or just the icy terrain can have you wandering aimlessly around the area.
no snowstorm was going to stop me from reaching my destination, but it certainly did not make it simple. film.
at Passo Pordoi, reasonably priced, but delectably tasty lunch can be had. i, for one, stopped for pizza and coffee and i do not regret it to this day.
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the second i left Pisciadú, the weather took a turn for the worse. i happened to be on the via ferrata, fingers freezing, when it started looking like a snow storm on the other side of the mountain. ironically, Pisciadú, now at much lower altitude, was basking in the sun. i carried on nonetheless, relying on my senses and the accuracy of gps.
on what could have been the brink of Val di Tita, visibility had dropped significantly. the area i was walking into looked nothing like the green of Val Gardena the day before. it bore the appearance of a frigid crater and any hope of climbing the Marmolada was immediately dashed as soon as i boarded the cable car to Passo Pordoi. the cable car journey to the Marmolada was harrowing. as i listened to the ice knock against the cable car windows, i knew i’d be in for a rough ride.
down in the passo, i stopped for lunch and prepared to walk into the storm. it was a well deserved break.
“eclectic” is the term that best describes the feeling of Rifugio Castiglioni Marmolada. it’s really quite difficult to pinpoint what it was that made the lodge as quaint as it was pleasant and attractive. was it the strangely laid out rooms, especially the one with a fireplace and awkward entrances? was it the Andy Warhol-styled portrait of a bear? or was it the strange bathrooms, with their concrete shower boxes, with a tall ceiling just sort of… hovering above?
hard to say.
eccentricities aside, i found Marmolada-Castiglioni comfortable and appealing. the warm beds and generously sized mess hall, along with the somewhat hidden bar really made for an interesting evening. and importantly, unlimited hot water was something i’d been pining for and the rifugio by Lago di Fedaia did not disappoint.
dinner wasn’t exactly a standout, as i appear to have made very few notes. i do recall, however, the home-style pork’n’mash served that evening, a hearty, filling dish, promised a good night’s sleep. the thick-cut pork came with white sauce, turning out to be a remarkable complement for the mashed potatoes.
nonetheless, what i have made a note of was the stracciatella-styled ice-cream we got for dessert. who would have guessed?
the following morning would start with a generous, smorgasbord-style breakfast, with all of the standard niceties: a bit of ham, a couple of bread rolls, chocolate spread, yoghurt and muesli, and the list goes on. it’s what i would confidently refer to as an “honest” breakfast.
in the bottom left: Rifugio Castiglioni Marmolada, Lago Fedaia. nikon d750.
above: frosty digital camera.
above: film.
stage 6: Rifugio Castiglioni Marmolada to Falcade
a view over Lago Fedaia that is only available during the previous day’s stage. film.
for this stage, Cicerone passes quickly over just how long the trek is to Malga Ciapela. should the weather be less than ideal or if you’re trekking off-season, this section of the Alta Via 2 can easily become eerie, especially as a solo hiker.
walking along the lake. film.
another thing to note would be that the guidebook’s suggestion of a hotel in Passo San Pellegrino is devastatingly expensive. for some, this may not be an issue, but if you are trying to keep it below €150 per day, as i was, this is not going to fly. in fact, finding affordable accommodation in the area was a little difficult for me. thanks to the very resourceful staff at the Rifugio Castiglioni Marmolada, i identified Rifugio Flora Alpina. the latter, though not quite in San Pellegrino, is well within walking distance. it looked absolutely amazing. nonetheless, a reservation is needed, as it is accessible by car, making it a top spot for many travellers.
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with the Marmolada massif out of reach, i decided i’d leg it to Passo San Pelegrino, where i thought i’d find a bed for the night. booking anything in advance had been impossible, given the relative lack of affordable options in the area. instead, one of the caretakers at Rifugio Castiglioni Marmolada had pointed to a place on the map i’d probably find accommodation.
what followed was an eerie roadside trek. crossing Malga Ciapella, i felt i’d walked into David Lynch’s Twin Peaks - perhaps a similar settlement had inspired Angelo Badalamenti to compose the show’s iconic opening theme. Malga Ciapella felt deserted and i doubt the last remaining shopkeepers even lived in the area.
down in San Pellegrino, there was no vacancy at the rifuggios i queried. booking.com revealed a reasonably priced hotel in the nearby town of Falcade, which i promptly booked, thus sentencing myself to another ten or so kilometres of roadside trekking.
in the league of ageing hotels, it takes a particular charm to separate worthwhile establishments from those that are plain outdated. Stella Alpina from Falcade happened to be part of the former category. it bore all the details of luxury, gracefully worn and aged. in a way, i was glad that was the case - i paid a reasonable price for a very comfortable and immaculately clean room. in stark contrast with all i’d experienced along the Alta Via 2, my room afforded me privacy, unlimited hot water, temperatures well within my range of comfort, and sufficient space to assess the contents of my backpack.
a broad range of landscapes opens up to you during this stage, some a tad unusual. film.
nevertheless, the real star of the show had to be dinner. in the hotel restaurant, i must have looked entirely out of place: well dressed patrons chatted quietly over expensive-looking bottles of wine, while i nearly slouched in my chair, still dressed in hiking gear. a quick look at the menu and it became apparent i was about to experience Dolomites fine dining at its best.
i ordered the “UNESCO platter”, the name of which i found just a little amusing. in reality, the title had been cunningly chosen, as i was about to embark on a tour of delicacies from the South Tyrol and Trentino region.
as a big fan of hearty pasta dishes, especially when i’m out on the trail, i could have only loved the spinach gnocchi with Binatega cheese fondue and speck. the impact of such a dish should not be underestimated: as filling as it was delightful, the heartiness of gnocchi was rounded off by the delicate sharpness of the local cheese. next in line was a small mound of tagliatelle with deer ragù. the most intriguing element had to be the lack of tomatoes, possibly a nod to the classical, non-bolognese version of meat ragù. nevertheless, i found it just as hearty and delectable, made possible by the outstanding flavour of game meat, a deeper and more complex protein base than beef. the third and final mound must have been paccheri. the large, tube-shaped pasta came with a fine, smoky cheese, brought forward by the subtle nuttiness of poppy seeds.
dinner resulted in a supremely complex culinary experience. i had never imagined that such a thing would come about in the restaurant of a budget-friendly hotel along the Alta Via 2. that being said, Stella Alpina still had an ace up its sleeve, one final testament to italian culinary prowess: breakfast. in earnest, there was nothing too fancy about it. instead, what awaited was a plentiful smorgasbord of pastries, juices, cheeses, and cured meats. once again, i took full advantage of it, the surprised looks of other patrons notwithstanding.
needless to say, getting started on the trail after such indulgence had to be one of the most difficult things i had ever done.
en route to Falcade. nikon d750.
above: digital.
stage 7: Falcade to Rifugio Volpi al Mulaz
pristine trails on the way to Mulaz. nikon d750.
this is not what i would refer to as an “easy” stage. not one bit. but the astonishing beauty surrounding you at all times makes the shortness of breath worth it. subjectively, this stage did not feel too long either: the day before had seen me cover about 32 kilometres over the course of nine hours, making a “mere” 12 kilometres feel perfectly manageable.
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the comfort of the hotel and the generosity of breakfast had put me in a vacationer’s mood. i hardly even wanted to throw my backpack on and break a sweat. but it had to be done.
after not so long a hike, i reached Rifugio Mulaz. in stark contrast to the night before, patrons kept arriving and i quickly understood weekends in the Dolomites tend to go a little wild. by the time i’d finished dinner, the gaggle of patrons would often let out increasingly big roars of laughter and i was practically forced to go to bed ahead of time.
the next day, leaving barely felt like an option. i’d grown fond of the little waiting room and reception and wanted to have as much coffee as possible before setting out on another day of hiking in the Alps.
this being the second morning with a slow start, i became aware of my mounting fatigue. the next stages of the Alta Via 2 would have to be dealt with carefully.
Rifugio Volpi ai Mulaz was possibly the most “alpine” style lodge along the Alta Via 2. not only is it fairly remote, but it is also laid out in a way that really tickled my fancy. one enters through a reception-bar hybrid, a snug little room with a view into the bustle of the kitchen. walking to the right, you end up in the mess hall, where a warm fire crackles away. a strong scent of mint pervades the air, making the dimly lit room intimate and welcoming.
the remoteness of Volpi ai Mulaz is best gaged from above. nikon d750.
upstairs, a handful of rooms await, alongside the shared bathrooms. admittedly, i did not have a chance to peek inside all of the rooms, but mine was filled with a good number of closely spaced bunk beds.
one detail that stood out to me was the Eyes of Buddha on the rifugio’s logo, a nod to Nepali culture i deeply resonated with.
i happened to be there on a saturday and scores of patrons had poured in by the evening, filling up the building and livening up the mess hall. by dinnertime, the attendants could be seen gracefully making their way through the ever-shuffling, tightly packed tables, swapping empty steins for full ones, right before running to stoke the fire.
the food was just as delightful as i had come to expect from Dolomites mountain huts. a straightforward, yet hearty spaghetti with ragù opened the meal, with regards to which i remarked the particularly al dente pasta. other patrons had opted for the white sauce tagliatelle, which featured what i imagine was a more flavourful mushroom and scallion combo. nonetheless, the spaghetti was followed by a solid vegetarian dish, comprising of oven-baked potatoes, with a soft inside and a caramelised shell. alongside, chewy, slightly tart mushrooms, touched by spice i could not place, populated the plate. i found the entire ensemble delicious. dessert simply had to be panna cotta, and an amazingly softy and milky version at that. the addition of frutti di bosco conserve only heightened the pleasure.
by bedtime, the energy in the room had amped up. i’d eventually understand sabato wasn’t a day of rest and the hikers huddled together in the mess hall had mostly just arrived to spend the night at the rifugio. few of them were trekking long distance. exhausted from all the warmth, beer, and revelry, i headed upstairs, where i was struck by the sudden stillness of the air. i could not have complained at all - a good night’s sleep awaited.
Rifugio Volpi ai Mulaz, perched atop a small rock plateau. film.
stage 8: Rifugio Volpi al Mulaz to Rifugio Rosetta
atop Cima della Vezzana. nikon d750.
i genuinely do not know where Cicerone’s getting the 8km hike from Mulaz to Rosetta. nonetheless, it’s definitely not the author’s fault i (inadvertently) chose to hike up the Cima della Vezzana. the hike up to the peak through Val Strut is very, very challenging, due to all the gravel and in my case, icy via ferrata. climbers should also know that none of the water sources marked on the map were there when i was passing through.
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i could barely talk when i got to Rifugio Rosetta.
it takes one wrong decision to dramatically complicate an entire hike. for me, it was one turn.
i find it interesting to consider how blissfully energised i’d felt in the morning - trekking along, leaving my pack behind to try and scramble up walls for a better point of view, drinking water liberally. it’s true: i was having a great time, especially knowing i’d have to hike for just a few short hours.
but a conversation with two fellow hikers the night before had revealed a peak, and a relatively tall one at that. how bad was it going to be? it merely took a few extra hours of hiking, on a trail that would eventually lead me to the same rifugio. hours later, at a crossroads, i could have taken a left, but instead chose to go right.
more than ten hours into the hike, i realised i’d really be pushing it. to “conquer” the peak (if “conquering” involves an ungraceful slog through the snow, over frozen via feratta, and across endless kilometres of gravel), i had driven myself much harder than i would immediately realise.
as it was starting to get dark, i pushed open the door of Rif. Rosetta and let the man behind the bar know about my arrival. i was treated to a glorious dinner afterwards.
it had already gotten a little dark at the time of my arrival at Rifugio Rosetta. from the moment i walked in, i knew i was facing possibly the best equipped rifugio on the Alta Via 2 route. not only did Rosetta have a tidy, welcoming antechamber, with a good set of shelves for one’s hiking boots, but it also featured a rope and pulley mechanism to “automatically” close the door, with a dirt-filled boot as counterweight. the reader may assume i am being ironic about Rosetta’s living conditions, but i am not: once i’d had my name checked against the reservation ledger, i was shown to a “dry room”, where my boots would stand a chance at losing some moisture overnight. my room was elegantly simple and warm, with the customary bunk beds.
somewhere along the frozen ridges of Val Strut. film.
having just finished the most challenging section of the trek, i felt exhausted, but i managed to find some comfort on one of the benches inside the mess hall.
dinner started strongly with fusilli quatro formaggi. not too saucy, but sufficiently flavourful, this made for a great opener, especially for the starving hiker i was at the time. this did not, however, hold a candle to the main dish: beautifully roast potatoes, with a creamy exterior, mild seasoning, and the softest interior. alongside the potatoes, sauteed spinach complemented the real star of the show: a generous, thick slice of smoked pork, designed to fill you up and cover for all the calories lost during the hike. to end the meal, a fairly dry chocolate sponge cake was served in a warm dish. this glorified brownie would gone reasonably well with a glass of milk or a bit of coffee, though that particular evening had, to me, been reserved for beer.
Rifugio Rosetta’s really quite pretty. nikon d750.
above: more of the nikon d750.
stage 9: Rifugio Rosetta to Rifugio Treviso
the landscape really opens up close to Rifugio Pradidali. nikon d750
get ready for yet another astonishing stage. there’s very little need for more commentary on my part. i would, however, recommend scouting out the plane crash site, in the Cima Wilma and Canali area. Cicerone mentions it too and i can confirm it is worth spending some time to scout out whatever bits remain scattered around the rocks.
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during long hikes, there is a point where i start tuning out. it was around this stage of the Alta Via 2 when it began happening to me in earnest.
part of me knew i’d already left the bulk of the adventure behind - responses from nearby rifugios had gotten increasingly spotty and delayed. even the weather had started shifting, which should not have been that much of a surprise for a hike in the Dolomites in late september.
in spite of my mind gradually slipping, this turned out to be a very pleasant stage. after quite a distance of hiking among barren rocks, i made it to the Pale de San Martino area, where the remains of a plane still littered the incline. most of what had stood the test of time, including what was left of a heavy duty-looking machine gun, had been piled next to Bivaco Carlo Minazio - quite the haunting sight.
what followed was a gentle descent into the pristine valley of Canali. a thick mist had gathered down the valley, making the lush vegetation within appear even more impenetrable. with my line of sight almost completely obscured at all times, things appeared to simply materialise in the way, which made my exhausted mind’s perception all the more disorderly. but i embraced the spell and vaulted over azure rivulets, rapidly decaying trunks of trees, and bright limestone.
by the time i had reached the final climb to the rifugio, following the zig-zag of a well beaten pathway, it had started pouring rain. in effect, the elements took over my senses, casting me into a dream-like state.
at the rifugio, i emerged soaked or better said, steamy. it was warm, humid, and overwhelmingly green in the valley - a stark contrast to the arid landscapes i had traversed the days before. it’s within these "partitioned off” ecosystems where i feel most in awe with nature: with the amount of water pouring down from the mountain, as well as the continuously gathering clouds, i would imagine vegetation develops at shocking speeds. not only does it grow, but i would assume it decomposes at a similarly rapid pace, making such valleys accelerators for the cycles of life.
Cicerone had remarked that the food at Rifugio Treviso can be a pleasantly interesting experience. i found it to be just that, but in a positive way. the reader should be aware, however, that my notes tend to be a little spotty at this stage, as not only was i somewhat tired, making my memories a little less vivid than they should be, but i’ve also spilled a bucket of coffee over my notebooks. nevertheless, the beef carpaccio i enjoyed lives on in my memory. the tender, slightly spiced beef was simply asking for fresh lemon juice, which was graciously provided with the dish. to complement this zesty main, garlicky brown beans were served cold, as well as a good quantity of potatoes. the latter had been boiled before being thrown in the oven, making for a fluffy exterior. for dessert, a staple arrived at my table: possibly the best panna cotta i’d had, remarkably cold and served with just the right amount of berry jam.
as far as the condition of the rifugio goes, Treviso won’t let you down. the sleeping quarters appeared to have been renovated recently and i was very happy with the bunk beds and the wood-covered walls of my tiny room. while i could not vouch for the capacity of the other rooms, mine hosted a mere two people. privacy often comes at a premium under such circumstances and i savoured each and every moment of it.
Treviso: take a seat next to the fireplace, dry your clothes, and doze off. nikon d750
breakfast consisted of an assortment of tiny containers, with all sorts of spreads in them. nothing too fancy, nothing amazing, but definitely a sound start to a day of hiking.
Rifugio Treviso is nestled atop a ridge overlooking Val Canali. film.
above: more film.
stage 10: Rifugio Treviso to Rifugio Cereda
overlooking Passo Cereda. nikon d750.
Cicerone does a great job of describing the flavour of this stage. one thing i must reiterate is this: do not underestimate it. unless you are a master sportsperson or remarkably good at managing physical wear, you will likely be tired. it may not be the most difficult portion of the trek, but i’d say treat it with caution.
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i must be quite talented as far as making easy trails unnecessarily complicated goes. to my defence, the most difficult routes often reveal the most interesting places. the trek to Passo Cereda was no exception.
beyond Rifugio Treviso, the wilderness of the mountains awaits, with tall grasses, tight copses, and moist, overhanging rock walls.
yet again, i missed a turn and stretched the day’s trek into a much longer affair, with a steep ascent and a brisk walk among the clouds. the descent, on the other side of the mountain, amounted to one of the most beautiful treks i have ever experienced, with lush foliage and jagged towers cushioned by clouds.
still, this still did not amount to a full day’s hike. in fact, i arrived in Passo Cereda right after lunch time. my sudden return to civilisation all but shook me - all sorts of well groomed livestock patiently ruminated around the valley and cars silently glided by on the perfect tarmac. two bikers pedaled past, engrossed in conversation as they rode.
had i truly returned to civilisation?
straight off the bat, you could tell that Rifugio Cereda was a different animal. it all boiled down to one thing: access to infrastructure. the first obvious sign of abundance was the salad bar, not something you are likely to encounter too often as you trek deep in the Dolomites. this is when i learned of the potential of pumpkin puree, a sweet’n’salty, versatile dish the scope of i feel could extend beyond that of a simple appetiser. things escalated as soon as the second dish was brought to our tables. to me, this meant a big bowl of homemade gnocchi, with a speck and cheese sauce i could not at the time identify. nor did i bother asking, so much was i enjoying each and every scoop. i reckon this hardly sounds different from previous dinners, but it’s always the details that elevate a particular culinary experience in a region as gastronomically outstanding as South Tyrol: the gnocchi were the size of peas, irregular in shape and subtly green. the large pasta bowls Rifugio Cereda used, with broad brims not unlike those of a cardinal’s hat, had been warmed up. given the thickness of the bowl, the food kept warm as i took my time enjoying it, keeping the sauce relatively soft in the process too. to top things off, the third dish was yet another interpretation of goulash, this time featuring two types of meat alongside the potatoes, all covered in a well seasoned, wine-touched sauce. what truly stood out to me were the shape of the ingredients: both meat and potatoes had been cut into perfect cubes, some large, others smaller, but all thoroughly cooked. for dessert, a well put together apple strudel was served, this time featuring leafy croissant pastry.
over the course of such a meal, i gradually succumbed to a profound type of relaxation, the kind that pervades each and every fibre of one’s body. by the end of the evening, i could barely keep it together and holding a conversation with a pair of fellow hikers had become a delicate balancing act. i eventually weaselled my way out, taking advantage of a break in flow, promptly walked upstairs to the sleeping quarters, and passed out within the comfort of my bed.
in the morning, breakfast at Rifugio Cereda did not disappoint: by far the most generous and complex array of pastries and cereal awaited, a well-deserved boost ahead of the final couples of legs of the trip.
view from my window at Rifugio Cereda. nikon d750.
above: all digital.
stage 11: Rifugio Cereda to Rifugio Bruno Boz
beyond Passo Cereda, many such hilltop villages await. nikon d750.
during good weather, this promises to be an outstandingly beautiful stage. in spite of Cicerone’s suggestion, the hike to Forcella Comedon can be undertaken in relative safety even in less than stable weather. you may have a hard time navigating some of the more exposed areas, but this is not, i claim, all that risky.
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a misty and wet morning was not the most appealing on the last couple of stages of my Alta Via 2 hike. it did not help that Rifugio Cereda’s breakfast had possibly been the best of the entire trek.
i begrudgingly packed my stuff and headed out, often looking over my shoulder to the little slice of comfort i was leaving behind.
several hours of trekking and many exposed sections behind me, i reached the general area of Rifugio Bruno Boz, which happened to be shrouded in clouds. two wild birds fluttered across my path. i’d seen several packs of mountain goats too. at this stage, i’d really walked into the high wilderness of the southern Dolomites.
too bad my journey was nearing its end.
the relative wilderness of the area around Sass de Mura genuinely surprised me, which was likely amplified by the fact that i could have been the only hiker left on the Alta Via 2. no matter though - Rifugio Bruno Boz had remained open for my reservation alone. or so i was told by the only person manning the establishment. i don’t believe there is much need for an ample description of the rifugio. all you need to know about is its distinctive mountain hut appeal, with a tall, triangular roof, cool stone walls, and blood-red geraniums right outside its painted windows. it doesn’t stop there, however - what i like to refer to as the “main” table of the mess hall had a striking, square design, with tall seating. this table had been put together with an interesting assortment rock and wood, making for a great synthesis of locally-found materials.
a wild, untarnished group of mountains. nikon d750.
before i comment on the quality of dinner at Rifugio Boz, the reader should be aware the following may not necessarily reflect the common experience - as the one and only guest, i may have gotten the best possible treatment. nonetheless, dinner debuted with solid serving of mushroom and speck tagliatelle, with added tarragon to provide depth in flavour. the result? - a pleasant spin on an otherwise simple dish.
the real star of the show had to be the main course: schiz cheese, seared in butter for a golden crust, then left to melt in low temperature until creamy. alongside this, cucumbers and balsamic vinegar were served. considering that all of this had been cooked by a single person, i could not have asked for more.
beyond the clouds: Rifugio Bruno Boz. nikon d750.
above: nikon d750.
final stage: Rifugio Bruno Boz to Feltre
testament to the passing of time: the cottage of Mario Meneguz. nikon d750.
i never made it to Rifugio Dal Piaz. it had closed down for the season. instead, i plotted an “escape route” through Passo Alvis, eventually making my way to Lago della Stua. my objective was Soranzen, but i was fortunate to catch a ride into Feltre.
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it did not take a long conversation with the keeper over at Boz to understand virtually all rifugios the direction i was heading in had closed. a decision was thus made: i would descend and make a run for Feltre.
it could not have taken more than three hours to get to where the tarmac started. with little reception and very few signs of public transport, i simply walked along the road.
stopping for coffee in the middle of nowhere, i kicked off a conversation with a particularly friendly barmaid and was promptly offered a ride into Feltre.
i took it.
another view of Mario’s cabin and its annexes. possibly the most “black sabbath” photo i’ve ever taken. nikon d750.
closing remarks
around the time i was planning this trip, i had already, in some ways, written it off as one of my “secondary” hikes. in truth, comparing a trek in Europe to those in Nepal, Kashmir, or Tibet paints an underwhelming picture of what “our own” mountains have to offer. but the reality is far different. to me, hiking does not simply boil down to scrambling up rocks or conquering ever-increasing altitudes, but i’d clearly viewed the Dolomites this way. i’m not sure when my perception began to twist. ironically, doing such a thing is not unlike taking a wrong turn along a trail: before you know it, you’re somewhere you should not be.
in all honesty, i had not expected such depth from the Alta Via 2. not only did the sights blow me away, but the complexity of the culinary experience is what made my two weeks in South Tyrol remarkably interesting. by the third day, the huts had become more than just places to crash. they’d instead been elevated to little experiences in and of themselves. the landscape, with all of its sudden shifts in temperature and precipitation, kept throwing challenges my way. finally, the many characters i met along the way made the entire thing even more interesting.
but enough blabbering. if there’s one thing you should take away from this (aside from the objective info, of course), it’s that while the idea of “altitude number go up” or “number of kilometres go up” equating to “good” is perfectly valid, but often reductive.
