Moser's Travels

Where day one was mean, day two was sadistic. It started off fine; we knew the weather wasn’t going to be great, we knew our boots wouldn’t be dry, we knew it would be a challenging day with over 17km and more than 1500m of elevation gain. These were the things we knew. What we didn’t know is how this day would test us.

We began the day as dry as we could. On the trail, it’s advisable to pack as light as possible, so much of what we wore was still damp from the previous day, but at least when we started it wasn’t raining. By the time the rain really kicked in we were just a few minutes away from Rifugio Fannes. It was around 11:00 am, the kitchen was not yet open, but we could still get a cappuccino and wait the half hour until it was. We had a great lunch, put our packs back on and headed out.

Pay attention to that gap right there, because that gap is this peak right here.

A bit of an incline, and as we approached that point the rain and wind began to pick up. But we were geared up, and nothing could be worse than yesterday.

Carmen made easy work of this stretch, and waited for Rafer and myself to meet her. As we climbed, the wind got even stronger and the trail steeper. I was beginning to feel the previous 14km along with the almost 1000m of incline. The fatigue in my legs making the peak feel like it was getting further away. I took several breaks, all the while, Carmen waited. Once I was within earshot, Carmen called down to me saying she was going to go ahead – it was too cold and windy to wait. I waved her on.

Once I made it to the top, I finally saw what was next. The steep descent to Lago Lagazuoi.

Every YouTube video I watched showed this point along the trail, every single one of those videos showed numerous hikers navigating the infinite switchbacks under sunny skies dappled with puffy white clouds. For months I dreamt of reaching this place, hiking down and swimming in that beautiful alpine lake. Instead I was met with sheeting rain and wind blowing up the slope  so strong, it pushed me back from the edge. When I looked over, I saw Carmen’s backpack disappear around a corner. And I wouldn’t see her again until she reached the bottom.

I didn’t take any more pictures, visibility became worse, photos were pointless. We slowly worked our way down, again Carmen waited. When I turned off the last knee crushing switchback and returned to level ground, I found Carmen sitting under a tree trying to get a little bit of shelter from the wind and rain. While she waited, she called ahead to the next Rifugio to let them know where we were and that we were still coming. If she didn’t do that, we ran the risk of losing our reservation. The guy on the other end told her that we were at least 2 hours away. He was wrong.

At around the same time I reached Carmen, we heard our first crack of thunder. I told her not to wait, to get to the Rifugio as quickly as she could. She didn’t hesitate. I waited a couple of minutes for Rafer to catch up, and we moved on.

I’m recounting these events a few days removed from them, and at right about this point my memory is a bit spotty. I was exhausted, hungry, wet and cold and still had 2km and 400m of ascent. I could see the Rifugio from where I was, it didn’t seem so far away, but the path there wasn’t the most direct.

The thunder continued, but got further away. The wind, however, did not relent. We slowly climbed the path towards our home for the night. Several times, I lost the trail because I either missed a marker or there was none at all. Visibility was poor, and the fatigue was extreme.

I reached the final climb before Rafer, checking periodically to make sure he was behind me. The trail up wasn’t obvious at first, but I finally found the switchbacks that ran along the Lagazuoi tunnels, relics left behind by Italian soldiers from WWI. Their black openings yawning into the wind and the grey, promising shelter but nothing else. I plodded on, drained.

Eventually I had the Rifugio in sight. The path turned from gravel to steel to wood. I was done. I entered the Rifugio cold, wet, and starving. With no idea how far behind Rafer was. Carmen greeted me with a shower token and showed me our dorm. The shower token gave me 25 liters of hot water. Three minutes I’ll never forget.

Eventually Rafer showed up, we ate dinner, had some beer and went to bed. Day 2 was finally done.

This is where we begin: Lago Di Braies, beautiful, picturesque, and full of rowboats. We arrived here a little later than we wanted, there was an issue with the bus ticketing system, and a single lane alternating closure on the ride up. Instead of starting our hike at 9:30, we started at 10:00. No big deal, or was it? 

You can see from this elevation profile, we had our work cut out for us: 1200m of elevation over about 5km. The weather was overcast, so not at all hot, something that we were thankful for. As we ascended, the scenery began to change, the trees started to thin, and the clouds darkened. Soon we were putting on our rain covers and rain jackets as the first few drops quickly turned to a steady rain. Then came the thunder, at first from a distance, but close enough to quicken our steps. Rifugio Biella was near; we just didn’t know how near. Every crest became a disappointment because the rain was getting harder, the wind stiffer, and the thunder louder and no Biella in sight. We climbed the stony path with the storm on top of us. At one point I counted only 4 seconds between lightning and thunder. Then finally after reaching the top, Rifugio Biella appeared. Wind whipped and soaking wet we made the quick descent to the Rifugio, waterlogged boots squishing the whole way down. We went in and had some lunch and waited out the storm. We weren’t even half way to our destination.

We continued on our path for the remaining 8 ish kilometers through rain that came and went. The rest of the day was pretty much uneventful, that is until we made our final descent to Rifugio Pederü. A series of unrelenting switchbacks that were made slippery from the constant rain zigzagged steeply into the valley where, on about the third to last corner, I slipped. Luckily unhurt, just a bruised elbow and a sore knee, a misshap that could have been much worse. After being helped up, and scraping the mud off my sleeve we made the last steps to our home for the night at about 5:30.

We were greeted with a hot shower, a fantastic meal and of course, mountain beer. Exhausted, we went to bed, blissfully unaware of what lay ahead. Day one was done.

We landed at roughly 9:15, right on schedule. Passport control and customs were a breeze. Getting tickets for the water taxi was fairly straightforward, and though we had to wait about 30 minutes for the boat to leave, an uneventful 40 minutes later we arrived in Venice. All we had to do was navigate the narrow passages while hauling all our luggage for about 800m. It sounds easy, but I had just accidentally punched the ceiling of the water taxi while donning my backpack, which resulted in a tiny scrape that decided to bleed dramatically. By the time we reached our hotel with about 70lbs of luggage, the humidity had us dripping with sweat, and my hand with blood. But we were here, day one.

Cicchetti and a spritz.

This little guy.

This Rainbow came after a wicked thunderstorm.

Day 2 I was up before sunrise and caught this backlit skyline.

Had a fancy coffee, wandered the city, got a haircut, and had a nap.

We had an amazing dinner, and wandered some more, had a few drinks along the way. Venice, to my surprise, was amazing, and I’m honestly happy that we’re coming back, but for now it’s bedtime, tomorrow we have to catch a bus.

After what was a very busy Saturday, we’ve packed up, said our goodbyes, locked the doors and are finally on our way. One year, well actually 359 days of travel. A marathon that will undoubtedly test our endurance, patience, and resolve.

First stop, Venice. Where our booking has us in an old hotel that overlooks a canal, and features a shared bathroom. Can’t wait.

Did anyone else watch the clock tick down to zero? Yeah, me neither. I’ll post more when we arrive, until then, I just want to thank everyone who helped us get here, and continue to help us as we speak. Without you, we couldn’t do this.

Ciao!