{"id":18928,"date":"2025-08-26T13:57:47","date_gmt":"2025-08-26T03:57:47","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/unswoc.org\/wordpress\/?p=18928"},"modified":"2025-11-27T16:29:37","modified_gmt":"2025-11-27T05:29:37","slug":"responsible-dolomites","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/unswoc.org\/wordpress\/2025\/08\/26\/responsible-dolomites\/","title":{"rendered":"A Guide to Responsible Hiking in the Dolomites"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Editor's note: Please take care when hiking, and give the reflections<\/a> at the bottom of this page a read. Always follow local authorities and safety guidelines.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\n\n\n

Content warning: Sarcasm, Strong language<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/span>Hello (introduction)<\/strong><\/span><\/h3>\n\n\n\n

My name is Campbell, and in this story I am 50% of an idiot sandwich. The other half of the sandwich is called Liam.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The following trip report indirectly discusses the do\u2019s and don\u2019ts of hiking, specifically hiking in the mountains, and in a foreign country. It focuses significantly more on the don\u2019ts aspect, as we didn\u2019t really do anything right. Nobody got hurt, and nothing bad really happened, but nevertheless we skirted the edge of danger in such a comically fortunate manner that should anybody attempt to repeat our journey, serious injury or death is possible. Not that anybody was going to. (Please don\u2019t).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It\u2019s also worth noting that Liam\u2019s phone broke less than a day into the hike, so most photos in this article are of Liam and taken by me. It\u2019s okay though because he is much sexier than I am.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/a><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Liam enjoying the Italian sun at Rifugio Padova<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

From the 5th to the 7th of July, Liam and I spent three days in the Dolomites, and during that time, I crossed a flooded river, had an icebath in a rainstorm without a towel, camped illegally, nearly died climbing up a rockfall, got stuck in a snowstorm, narrowly avoided shitting my pants, and almost had to pay for a rescue helicopter after we were reported missing. But the food was great!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Disclaimer: This is a story of poor decisions and silly risk-taking, a style of outdoor adventure which puts yourself and others in danger. Use it as an example of what not to do - See how many bad practices and mistakes you can spot. Always hike according to your level of experience.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/span>A bit of context<\/strong><\/span><\/h3>\n\n\n\n

I became friends with Liam in 2023 after hanging out with him in Sydney, and at the start of 2024, he moved to northern Italy where he now lives with his family. When I embarked on my first Euro summer earlier this year, I made sure to spend some time with him in Treviso, and go hiking in the alps.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We set aside three whole days to complete a two-night hike in the mountains, and I let Liam do most of the planning, as he knew the area better than I did. A few days before I arrived in Treviso, Liam sent me a link to a Wikiloc trail entitled \u2018Ez hike\u2019.<\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\"\"<\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Screenshot from Wikiloc.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

At first glance, it didn\u2019t seem too difficult. Our longest day would be only 15 km, with a measly 1300 metres of elevation gain. Chump change. Having left northern Pakistan only a week prior, and being acclimatised to 4500m above sea level, I was ready to absolutely thrash my Italian hiking partner in the hills. But due to unforeseen circumstances, we never actually completed the entire loop. The specifics of those circumstances will soon be revealed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/span>Day zero\/one<\/strong><\/span><\/h3>\n\n\n\n

On the eve of our first day of hiking, we caught a train from Treviso to the small town of Calalzo di Cadore, which sits amongst some of the most popular hiking regions in the Dolomites. We stayed at B&B Dolomiti, and for just \u20ac50 each we had a warm bed, hot showers, and kind owners who made us a delicious Italian breakfast the next morning, complete with caff\u00e8 espresso.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After brekkie, the owners brought out their large-scale topographic map of the surrounding mountains. As Liam outlined our intended route to them, they became increasingly agitated in tone - They were speaking Italian, but I found out afterwards that they were strongly discouraging us from embarking on our hike. Nevertheless, half an hour later we strode out the door, unfazed. A \u2018she\u2019ll-be-right\u2019 attitude will get you far in life, although you may end up living less of it.

<\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\"\"<\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Crossing a bridge to reach the trailhead.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The weather that morning was drizzly, cool, and overcast, but equipped with the wisdom of \u2018be bold, start cold\u2019, I made sure to remove my jackets before beginning my ascent to the mountain pass. Liam, on the other hand, made sure to wear all his layers, and I\u2019m surprised he didn\u2019t die of heatstroke twenty minutes in. Soon, we came to our first obstacle. It was a dodgy-looking river crossing, next to which signs had been erected that read: \u201cDIVIETO DI TRANSITO AL PEDONI\u201d. We pondered what to do next for about ten seconds, then continued on.<\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\"\"<\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

I wonder what this sign means?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Halfway across the river, the stepping stones became too slippery to safely stand on. This meant I had to walk on the riverbed. Forced to choose between turning around to take off my boots, or full sending the crossing, I full sent it and soaked my boots inside and out. Three days later, the smell emanating from my Topo Trailventures could\u2019ve had them classified as a biological weapon. At least I saved two minutes.<\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\"\"<\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Bird\u2019s eye view of the crossing<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\"\"<\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

A bit dodgier up close<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Soon, it was time for lunch, and I couldn\u2019t wait to see what my hiking partner (who works as a cook in a boujee cafe) had assembled for us to eat. Before the hike, I\u2019d been informed \u201cwe\u2019re gonna eat like kings twin \ud83d\udc51\u201d. Cue a massive five-kilo bag of food, which I carried most of. The first meal of the hike\u2026 300 grams each of tuna and beans, cans pre-emptied into a zip-loc bag, lightly seasoned. Commence flatulence. We enjoyed lunch at the first major landmark of our hike, Rifugio Padova. It was beautiful, and straight out of a postcard.<\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\"\"<\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Admiring our protein-rich lunch<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\"\"<\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Refilling our water at Rifugio Padova. The fountain was labelled \u2018acqua non potabile\u2019, whatever that means.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Leaving the Rifugio, we continued our ascent to Forcella Scodavacca, a mountain pass that lies 2042m above sea level. Upon reaching the saddle, we enjoyed an hour\u2019s rest, which consisted of 15 minutes of drone flying and 45 minutes of napping. Rain clouds brewing in the distance triggered us to begin our descent to Rifugio Giaf at 1500m.<\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\"\"<\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Crossing Forcella Scodavacca<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

At this point, Liam informed me of an important rule regarding camping in the Dolomites: Wild camping is prohibited in the mountains unless it\u2019s an \u2018emergency\u2019. The definition of \u2018emergency\u2019 extends to hikers who are far from any Bivacco (mountain hut) or Rifugio (mountain hotel), who are at high altitude or above the treeline. Our mischievous idea was to deliberately get ourselves in this scenario, so we didn\u2019t have to pay for a night\u2019s stay in Rifugio Giaf, at the bottom of the valley on the other side of the saddle. But the weather had other ideas, because as soon as we approached Rifugio Giaf, it began positively pissing rain.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In a bold move, we set up camp in the forest not even a hundred metres from the front door of the Rifugio. This was probably disrespectful, and definitely illegal. But considering the sun was setting, it was wet, and we didn\u2019t have a spare 50 euros each to pay for a night\u2019s stay (i.e. we were broke af) it was morally and ethically okay. Our original plan had been to keep hiking and climb 500m above the Rifugio, then camp in the alpine meadows, but this never eventuated.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Liam soon realised that we were right next to a pumping mountain stream, and only a minute\u2019s walk from our tent, there was a platform we could shower on. It was certainly a questionable decision to have an outdoor shower while it was 10 degrees Celsius and raining, we didn\u2019t have any towels, and we were camping in a leaky tent, but I\u2019m not a chicken. Liam and I both stripped down to our undies and prepared ourselves for pain. It was fucken cold.<\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\"\"<\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Having an ice bath to end the day<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Soaked head-to-toe and with no tarp to shelter us from the pouring rain, we donned woolen thermals, chucked a raincoat on top, and let GoreTex do the work. We were half dry by the next morning. Liam began preparing our first dinner, which (thankfully) was not another mushy sack of tuna and beans. I was treated to fettuccine with zucchini, tomato, and parmesan cheese. I let Liam eat some too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After dinner, we crammed ourselves into my one-and-a-half-man tent. Thunder boomed, wind raced through the pines above us, and rain bucketed down outside. Liam\u2019s phone decided it was the perfect time to give up the ghost, cutting off our only form of communication with his family. He was also sharing a live GPS track with his mum in Australia, and the sudden disappearance of this track set off alarm bells back home. This triggered a series of unfortunate events that spanned the globe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/span>Day two<\/strong><\/span><\/h3>\n\n\n\n

We awoke to a massive puddle in the tent, and the forest shrouded in mist. We packed up and were ready to go by about 8am, but only after a classic camp breakfast of oats and dried fruit, plus a spoonful or three of Nutella (Italian Nutella absolutely slaps). Considering that we had hiked a shorter distance than intended the day before, I pitched to Liam a minor amendment to the planned route, which would involve \u201cless work\u201d and \u201cmore fun\u201d, or so I thought.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Basically, instead of going the long way around, we could simply climb up to the inconveniently named Bivacco Antonio Marchi e Renzo Granzotto (henceforth shortened to Bivacco Antonio), maybe camp there for the night, or maybe continue to the next Rifugio we had reserved, but not yet paid for. See map below.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/a><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Original route in blue, proposed new route(s) in red. Our location circled in pink, with an arrow indicating the proposed direction of travel. That night, we would camp at either Bivacco Antonio or Rifugio Pordenone. The next day, we would head back to Rifugio Padova.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was easy to convince Liam to opt for the \u201cmore fun\u201d option, since he no longer had access to any kind of map to double-check the trail I had haphazardly drawn up in Gaia GPS. In fact, the only navigational tools available to us at that point were the compass on my watch, and the map on my phone. Not an ideal toolset for hiking in the alps. As we soon found out, there are some things you can\u2019t see on a topographic map alone.<\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\"\"<\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Our view in the morning<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\"\"<\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Badass motherfucker<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

We made a beeline for Bivacco Antonio, on an \u201cestablished\u201d trail that was well marked by red-and-white stripes spaced about ten metres apart, painted on pale-coloured boulders. Following tiny Indonesian\/Polish\/Monagesque\/Austrian\/Peruvian flags, we ascended 300 metres in under an hour. We soon found ourselves above the treeline, and at the base of a rocky chute that cut between two massive spires of limestone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The chute itself was loose and chossy. By the time we hit 1850m, every planting of the foot had to be repeated two or three times to compact the gravel enough to form a sturdy step. Like the good nature-conscious hikers we are, we began walking on small plants and patches of grass, the roots of which made the pebbles a little more secure, to ensure we didn\u2019t start any more landslides.<\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\"\"<\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

The base of the rocky chute - Pretty steep<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

This tactic of walking on plants quickly stopped working, due to the lack of plants. The trail was also getting steeper, looser, and closer to rock climbing than hiking. This is where a she\u2019ll-be-right attitude becomes very dangerous.<\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\"\"<\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Liam clinging to the trail<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\"\"<\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Don\u2019t look down<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\"\"<\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Having second thoughts now\u2026<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

In hindsight, we probably should have turned around several hours before we reached this point.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

About fifteen minutes before we reached the top of the chute, we split up. I found myself on the left side of the chute facing uphill, while Liam was on the right. A rocky spire split the chute down the middle right before the crest. Now, it was every man for himself, although we could still hear each other swearing our heads off as we grappled with life or death. Occasionally I\u2019d consider the fact that if I tripped, or stepped on a dodgy rock, I would be dead within seconds. It didn\u2019t really help to dwell on this, so instead, I locked tf in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The very last section of climbing involved a vertical chimney of about three metres. I had no idea what was on the other side, especially because Gaia Topo didn\u2019t really show any of the features we\u2019d encountered on the trail behind us either. Would I be on top of a craggly peak, unable to get down? Would there be another ten metres of climbing beyond this? I struggled upwards, peeked over the edge, and\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\"\"<\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

The mountain vista at the top<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I hadn\u2019t felt happier in a long time. I let rip a gleeful \u201cFUCK YEAH\u201d, loud enough to alert two hikers almost 500 metres away from me. They must have been thinking \u201cche idiota\u201d. I turned to my right, and there\u2019s Liam, smiling because he beat me to the top, and on top of that, I was still alive. We were finally safe, and absolutely never doing that stupid shit again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the distance, we could see Bivacco Antonio. It was a little red dot nestled comfortably amongst swathes of green and towers of grey. We allowed our heart rates to settle down a little, and then pushed onward. Reaching the Bivacco, the clouds cleared a little, and we made use of a small window of sunny weather to dry out the saturated tent. The window didn\u2019t last long.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Soon after we arrived, a wall of freezing rain enveloped the peaks surrounding the Bivacco, and we quickly gathered our belongings and sealed ourselves inside. We had just begun an all-night stay - another thunderstorm had rolled in, and as lightning crackled outside, we laid out our sleeping bags for an epic three-hour nap.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At around six o\u2019clock, we woke up for dinner, which consisted of delicious cheesy flatbreads and Nutella sandwiches, along with Liam\u2019s Michelin-star pre-cooked couscous, which we only had to reheat. While chowing down on dinner, we noticed the rain had stopped drumming on the roof, and opened the upper half of the Bivacco\u2019s door to take a squiz at the situation outside. The rain had stopped alright - It had started snowing. \u201cIt\u2019s fucking snowing!\u201d as Liam put it. It was his first time seeing snow.<\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\"\"<\/a><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Snow outside the Bivacco<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Earlier, at the top of our Dumb and Dumber ascent up the rocky chute, I\u2019d sent out an email to Rifugio Pordenone (that we\u2019d reserved a room at), using the little reception I had, to inform the owners that we likely wouldn\u2019t be spending the night there, and would instead opt for the Bivacco. Little did I know, the email address on their website was a dud, and my message never went through. Now, the combination of apparently missing hikers and a snowstorm in the mountains had triggered the Rifugio to report us as missing, using Liam\u2019s booking information. Go figure.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At the same time, Liam\u2019s mum had obtained my phone number from local connections in Sydney - although, due to the lack of mobile coverage at the Bivacco, I didn\u2019t find out until the next day. Regardless, there were suddenly four groups of people looking for us - My family, Liam\u2019s family, staff from every Rifugio in the area, and local hikers who volunteered to search for us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Meanwhile:<\/p>\n\n\n