Backroads – Live Now and Zen

Because even when it seems like a gag gift, the present is still a gift

For our second day of hiking, our Backroads leaders had chosen the Sennes Loop, which would take us up 3000 feet in elevation. I had spied the road that would comprise the first part of our hike the night before, and I was already dreading the first part of the day. Still, I had breakfast to look forward to first, and breakfast on hiking days can be as indulgent as I want, right? Gotta have energy for the climb, I reasoned. So, after an Italian buffet breakfast of speck, cheese, fruit, and pastries accompanied by espresso, we were off. The road, which was unpaved and switchbacked its way up and over the valley, immediately became my Everest. It was steep. I am used to being the last one up a hill because I take medications that elevate my pulse rate, which means my heart often gets to racing more quickly in comparison with my fellow hikers. Steve was his usual gracious self, hanging with me each time I stopped and waited for my heart rate to drop again.

Although being the last person up used to make me feel bad about myself, I’ve learned to find the good in it. One of the best parts about being at the back of the pack on a trip like this one is you usually end up alone with a guide. Everywhere we travel, I find opportunities to have conversations, real, meaningful conversations, with people from the area we are visiting. The easiest way to do this is to take a tour and strike up conversations with the guide. On this day, we had Francesca and a naturalist named Lucia to walk with. Talking about southern Italian culture with Francesca, a native of Puglia, made my uphill battle less odious.

Once we got to the place where the road leveled off, we veered off onto a small path rather than continue along the road. We were taking the scenic route. It was cool and overcast, many of the peaks around us obscured by clouds. This pushed our focus to the green pastures and wildflowers. We walked along at a quicker pace now, trending upwards still and stopping to take photos as we went. We weren’t slowing anyone down, so why not enjoy? It wasn’t long before we heard bells ringing along the hillside. We were still below tree line, though, and I couldn’t see what was causing the racket. Then they appeared, a herd of goats with long, curved horns. They regarded us with some curiosity but no alarm, one following me up the path a bit before rejoining its amici on the grassy hill. I determined there is no hike more charming than one that includes animals wearing bells.

The path had become easier, and I was feeling confident about my chances of finishing this hike with zero problems. Then we came around a corner into a clearing and ahead of me I saw another damn hill. Yes. I knew I was in the Dolomites and there would inevitably be more hills. Francesca simply hadn’t warned me about this one which, in hindsight, was probably wiser. Ahead of us on the path, I could see some small dots, the rest of our group steadily making their way. This would be our last uphill I was told, and at the terminus of this section we would arrive at the Sennes hut where we would stop for lunch. I was all about lunch by this point, so I decided to attack that hill rather than saunter.

Near the top of the climb, Rifugio Munt de Sennes appeared around a corner. Hearty South Tyrolean fare loomed ahead, and I could not wait. Would it be another fabulous lunch feast with choices like beef goulash on polenta and fresh pasta with just-picked chanterelle mushrooms? Of course. We finished our meal with more strudel because vacation. I reflected for a moment about how hospitality is Italy’s gift to the world. I mean, here we were, hiking at 8000 feet, and continually happening upon establishments with comfortable rooms to rent, excellent dining options, and clean bathrooms with flushing toilets, in mountainous areas unreachable by car for part of the year due to snowpack. Damn, Italy. La bella vita, indeed.

We left the hut and crested the hill just beyond it and were treated to a panoramic mountain view before we hit the descent to our overnight lodging. Lucia was with us for the afternoon, and she informed us about the political climate in Italy under far-right Prime Minister Meloni. She talked about peaceful student protests that had turned violent earlier in the year due to brutal police crackdowns on demonstrations. Lucia remarked it seemed eerily familiar to what she had learned about life under Mussolini. We discussed our mutual concerns regarding the slow but steady erosions of personal freedoms in our countries and what could be done to stem the creep of authoritarianism. It was a deep conversation for a serene day in the Dolomites, but it made the last few miles as much about education and global understanding as about exercise and nature.

When we finally reached our lodge, Petra told us we should soak our feet in the icy stream that ran in front of the hut. She said it was “medicine,” which would help us recover more quickly for the next day. So we dropped our packs in our room, donned flip flops, and padded our way to the stream. Certain my feet would thank me later, I braved the frigid water. I’m no stranger to just how cold a mountain stream can be, yet I was still surprised at how quickly I had to pull my feet out of that water and onto the dry gravel to regain feeling in my toes. Steve and I spent about 5 minutes there, making bets about who could hold their feet in the water the longest. Steve won. Those five minutes turned out to be about as difficult as my climb had been that morning,. They were also just as beneficial. I felt refreshed.

With our hiking chores done for the day, we went up to shower. Wine o’clock was calling, and we didn’t want to be late. The rifugio offered house wine on tap that was a meager €2.5 per generous glass. It would be a crime not to support this local business family by having a glass or two of house merlot before dinner, and then maybe another glass or two with dinner. Steve and I strive to be goodwill ambassadors for the U.S. while we are abroad. It’s a responsibility we take quite seriously.

“Only where you have walked on foot have you really been.” ~Reinhold Messner

We’ve known for years that we wanted to visit Italy’s Dolomites. We’ve also known for years that we wanted to take an active trip with Backroads. Backroads, founded in 1979 and based in California, will conduct over 4500 guided trips in 2024, allowing travelers to cycle, hike, and kayak their way through stunning locales worldwide. The trips are not inexpensive, so we’d been dreaming of this for about a decade. When we learned our sons planned to stay in their college town in Washington for the summer, we realized we could use our usual 4-person trip budget on just the two of us and decided to splurge and turn our dream into a reality. With the destination chosen (we can’t seem to get sick of Italy), the next decision was whether we wanted to cycle or hike our way through the Dolomites. We settled on hiking and chose to do a “hut-to-hut” trip where we would traverse from valley to valley, up over mountain passes, getting a close-up, personal experience of nature rather than a whiz-by-on-a-bike experience of it. We made the right choice.

On this first morning, we met in the lobby of our designated hotel in our departure city, Bolzano/Bolzen, in South Tyrol, Italy, to begin our exploration of the northwest area of the Dolomites. The Dolomites have contained a blend of Italian and German cultures since the end of WWI when the area once held by Austria-Hungary was ceded to Italy. In Bolzano, approximately half the population speaks German as their native tongue, while the other half speaks Italian. Truth is, though, most people in the area speak both. Here you will find schnitzel, dumplings, and strudel on the menu aside polenta, risotto, and tiramisu. Best of both worlds, really. Our guides, an Italian, Francesca, and a Slovenian, Petra, gathered up the 15 of us, gave us a brief description of the day, and loaded us onto a bus that would drop us at our hiking trail. As we headed north out of Bolzano into the foothills of the Dolomites, the landscape began to change dramatically. The canyon walls got closer, the vegetation became more lush, and we encountered some light rain. We were dropped at the entrance to Fannes-Braies-Sennes, the Dolomites’ gorgeous nature park, a UNESCO World Heritage area. Backroads schleps your bags between lodgings, so we donned our rain jackets and small daypacks and began our adventure. We would hike 7 miles to our lodging, stopping for lunch midway.

The rain fell lightly and we watched our footing, traversing cautiously over slippery tree roots and damp terrain. Wildflowers brightened the hike. We struck up easy conversations with our fellow travelers who hailed from across the U.S., from Washington to Vermont, Maine to Florida. We were hiking near a stream, under a canopy of tall pines, and the hike appeared to us like one we might do in our Colorado Rockies back home. The rain eased on and off repeatedly as we walked along. Soon we found ourselves at our lunch spot, set up outside a charming inn nestled in a cozy valley.

This was the first moment we experienced firsthand what Backroads does best. They spoil you. Waiting for us next to a small lake at the back of the inn was an elaborate picnic lunch set on two sheltered tables. The table was loaded with foods: sausage slices, cheese wedges, a variety of salads and breads, fresh fruit, and strudel. Petra told us it was our first strudel, not our last, and jokingly called our trip a strudel-to-strudel hike. Turns out she wasn’t kidding. So. Much. Strudel. While we ate, our guides shared with us a bit of information about the hearty Ladin people who live and work in the Dolomites and whose ancestors have resided there for thousands of years. Now a population of only about 30k, the Ladin people still employ their own, unique language and work to retain their cultural traditions and population by marrying within their community. These hardworking people maintain the land and the ski lifts and inns that dot the Dolomites. Their hospitality is gracious and efficient. Food is definitely their love language.

After we had polished off most of what had been presented, we picked up our hiking poles and set out again in the rain towards the Rifugio Pederü, our lodging for the next two nights. We were walking uphill, but it was a gradual climb and a perfect way to warm us up for the hiking that would follow the next two days. I was fully unprepared for the setting where we landed. The rifugio (Italian for “shelter”) was set at the back of a box canyon, which immediately made me a bit leery about how difficult our next hike might be. The only way out was up, way up. We settled into our room on the top floor (stairs are good practice for the climbing, right?) and opened the shutters to the most picturesque view from our balcony. We’d been told our lodging would become increasingly more impressive, but I was struggling to imagine how.

These “shelters” are rustic on the outside but well-equipped on the inside, so we helped ourselves to long, hot showers and headed down to dinner in the restaurant where we were treated to a welcome champagne cocktail and a menu as heavy as the one in a Cheesecake Factory. I’d recovered from my huge lunch on the hike and was so hungry by then I didn’t even bother to take a photo of my meal. Come to think of it, I didn’t return from our trip with many food photos at all. So at each meal I must have been too weak from hunger to lift my phone or too eager to wait. One thing about a Backroads adventure, there will be no lack of food or opportunity to earn it if that is your desire.

After dinner, we returned to our room and set out clothes for our early morning breakfast and departure. I’d spied our path out of the valley earlier in the evening and knew the next day was going to test me, so I checked off the accomplishment of Day One and mentally prepared myself for the challenge of the Day Two. So with the sun at last setting and the windows and drapes open, the fresh air of wild Italy filled our lungs and sent us off to sleep.