THE DOLOMITES from ORTISEI, ITALY June 2023
A Jostled Start
It felt more like we were in Italy than in Germany when the relatively polite pushing match to board our fast train from the Frankfurt airport to Munich began. We were accustomed to train boarding being a rough and tumble event in Italy, but not in Germany.
Our new luggage combos with us each having 2 lighter bags instead a single, huge, piece made us more competitive than when we were hefting 50-pound, wheeled duffel bags, but we were still at the back of the pack. Our reserved seats were taken, it was standing room only, and the conductor indicated that he wouldn’t oust the interlopers: according to him, the normally deferential Germans weren’t likely to yield our seats under the circumstances, though we didn’t know what those circumstances were. Presumably, the next car’s seats all being roped off had something to do with it.
A Jostled Start
It felt more like we were in Italy than in Germany when the relatively polite pushing match to board our fast train from the Frankfurt airport to Munich began. We were accustomed to train boarding being a rough and tumble event in Italy, but not in Germany.
Our new luggage combos with us each having 2 lighter bags instead a single, huge, piece made us more competitive than when we were hefting 50-pound, wheeled duffel bags, but we were still at the back of the pack. Our reserved seats were taken, it was standing room only, and the conductor indicated that he wouldn’t oust the interlopers: according to him, the normally deferential Germans weren’t likely to yield our seats under the circumstances, though we didn’t know what those circumstances were. Presumably, the next car’s seats all being roped off had something to do with it.
Like proud parents, we wheeled our new luggage with ease.
The next day, when we took a train from Munich into Bressanone, Italy, we each carried our own lunch. German trains had always been predictably dignified and we never bothered with such precautions, but in Italy, we knew anything could happen.
Refinements for 2023
This disappointing episode on our first full day of jet lag did, however, validate the advantages of our new luggage. In deference to my unstable and unpredictable back and buttock issues, we’d made 2 changes for ‘23, not knowing if I’d even be walking this summer when Bill booked all our reservations in the winter and early spring.
One change that was initially prompted by last year’s terrible, all-summer heat wave in Europe, was to abandon bike touring like we had always done or, more recently, traveling between a dozen or more walking venues in England, and instead, to park ourselves in the cool mountains all summer. We would only have 3 stays of 1 week to 2 months. In hindsight, this decision to guarantee insulating ourselves from potential oppressive heat was looking brilliant given my orthopedic challenges.
The other change for ’23 was to abandon our treasured, sturdy, wheeled duffels loaded to 50 pounds, in deference to my back. Bill searched for hours to create 2 mismatched pairs of lightweight luggage for us. The larger piece was a 4-wheeled spinner model, which we’d never had, and a smaller piece without wheels but with a back strap to slip over the extended handle of the bigger piece.
It was nerve-racking to buy the 4 bags online while still traveling in the SW US in our trailer and only know when we arrived home if indeed luggage made 2 compatible duos. We couldn’t afford to delay buying them until we were at home because they were becoming unavailable, even back in March. We had the smaller ones delivered to us while we were in a Fruita, CO RV park, but sent the other 2 to a friend back home because they were too big to store in the trailer for several months.
The iconic Cavallino-Bianco Family Spa Grand Hotel in central Ortisei (our more modest hotel was down the street).
We’d done everything we could do to cut weight. Luckily, we had fewer bike parts than usual and traveling for 3 months instead of 4+ like last year, allowed us to trim even more. Being in 1 climate zone helped, whereas spending 3 months in England the previous summer necessitated packing extra waterproof gear. We still packed things that seem crazed to many, like a small electric heater and kitchen supplies. (Lodging heating systems in the mountains are taken out of service at the end of winter and aren’t fired up again until the next winter, regardless of the temperature).
Our longer stays allowed us, for the first time ever, to receive some of our growing number of supplements from Germany’s Amazon hub, which was a big help in cutting the weight. A 3-month supply of Citrulline malate, our new-found miracle supplement, was close to 5 pounds and I was enjoying the cognitive effects of whole cranberry powder, which would add another 2 pounds. Once in Europe, Bill decided to try the cranberry powder himself and he ordered even more from Germany. I’d hoped that those supplements would reverse my hypertension and even though they were insufficient for that purpose, I appreciated their other effects.
Even ordering some of our supplement inventory from Germany was a bit of a gamble. We’d begun checking the availability and price for products comparable to our US items a couple of months in advance and were horrified at their fluctuating availability in Germany. In response, a Plan B was developed, which was to buy all of what we needed for the summer as backup if some items were out of stock in Germany when we ordered few days before we flew to Frankfurt: we could pack them if not available in Germany or stash them for our return in September if not needed. Unfortunately, the Amazon hub in Italy wasn’t as well stocked or competitively price as the German hub. What’s traveling without a little rolling of the dice?
Maintaining our resistance training with our new “dumb-bags”—water-filled dry bags.
Literally On the Road
The parade through Ortisei of Lotus’, Lamborghinis, Aston Martins, and Porches all made my free-associating mind think of the line: “You can get anything you want at Alice’s Restaurant” but no, these were shiny objects to be spotted on the winding roads of the Dolomites in the summer on Friday’s, Saturday’s, and Sunday’s. It’s quite the visual buffet for the easily amused, alert traveler and we started seeing them our first weekend in the Dolomites in and around Ortisei.
Like in Palm Springs in the winter, the roads on summer weekends in the Dolomites are a feast for the bored brains of long-distance walkers. We walk 2,000 miles a year, I get bored easily, and my endurance is miraculously improved by mental stimulation. Contemplating nature and life don’t hold my attention for much more than the first hour of walking and I then become hungry for “stim”, stimulation. Wildflowers, interesting architecture, the distinctive look of people and their dress, I notice it all and yet I want more. Shiny objects, as in exotic cars, are trophy finds during a walk that might extend 4, 6, or 8 hours.
By any measure, I’m not a car fanatic; I only value the sparkling gems for their fleeting, visual entertainment value. I’ll try to ID them, note their country of residence, and make a judgement call as to whether that particular vehicle’s details pleased me or not. Once in for the night, Bill and I might look for the specific model online to learn new tidbits to extend the experience, like when Lamborghini’s began production (1960’s), starting prices (about a quarter of a million dollars for ‘Lambos’), and other facts to amuse us. We learned that Lambo’s have released a very popular SUV version called the the Urus, but we can’t reconcile the ground-scrapping clearance with even cresting the bump to enter some driveways, let alone being off road. The amusing image of the Urus on rough roads combined with our research would arise days later when my ruminating mind was searching my mental archives for an object to contemplate.
In Palm Springs, the flat roads and safe back streets near our RV park, bring out the vintage cars more than those with European racing pedigrees. Old Bentley’s are a favorite, as are collectors’ Caddies and their peers with giant fins. They are equally stimulating to my brain as the race cars: a different era and different ways to turn the heads of the regular folks.
A special favorite in the Dolomites on the summer weekends is seeing car clubs out flaunting their stuff. Bill scored our first weekend in Ortisei by spotting a Porsche club regrouping at a turn, another Porsche club on the move, and a Lotus club blasting by. I however only saw a solo Lamborghini convertible cruising for a parking spot in the town center and a stationary Aston Martin.
A Vespa outfitted for the passes with its spare tire.
Store Windows
The other head-turning, shiny objects on the streets of Ortisei were the shop windows. Of the 3 villages in Val Gardena in the Dolomites, Ortisei is the largest and most sophisticated. Because it is at the lowest elevation (about 4000’), more businesses are open more of the year, some year-round, and it draws a bigger percentage of high rollers, both from Italy and farther afield.
The Ortisei shopkeepers aggressively but tastefully compete for the tourist dollars with their creative window displays and freestanding outdoor racks of goods, by changing their windows at least once a day. One classy gift shop had charming, 18” tall wooden geese with colorful rubber-styled boots and hats that they constantly rearranged on their front steps. Sometimes they were in a cluck, sometimes there was a colorful metal rooster in their midst, and one day goslings appeared. Another shop’s stunning, slender, 50 Euro Klimit motif coffee mugs, with one toppled on its side, drew long stares from us—they were gorgeous.
These geese struck a new eye-catching pose each day on the shop’s steps.
Given our Ortisei hotel faced onto the old town pedestrian promenade, it was easy to include a daily stroll to admire the artistry of the craft’s people and window dressers. Bikes and small motorcycles were used for props to showcase sunglasses and garments; glittery baseball caps and tennis shoes helped catch the eye; and an intermingling of ice cream shops and coffee bars kept the pedestrians walking with their heads turned sideways. Even the industry of the salespeople polishing their shops’ windows and briskly sweeping their bit of sidewalk drew the passersby attention towards the windows.
And the Pragmatic
We were not immune to the Italian shopping culture. We too knew that Ortisei was the place to shop in this valley and we did our share. The annual search for a new, colorful, long-sleeved shirt for Bill required careful scanning of the racks in each mountain-sports store, rather than the fashion-wear sports store.
There was one authentic outdoor store in the village, and it was most likely to deliver what we wanted, and we scrutinized it carefully. It was there that I found a headband and belt bag that I couldn’t find at home. And that’s where I went to buy an easy-to-pack, backpacker’s fry pan when none of the pans in our apartment were suitable for scrambling eggs. Almost paper thin, it took me a week to refine my skills for managing the timing and burner temperature on the ceramic cooktop to minimize sticking in this pan that wasn’t non-stick, but it did the job.
Ortisei also has a tiny, well-stocked “Hygiene & Beauty” business where we get great prices on hand lotion, sunscreen, dish detergent, TP, and other essentials. It’s budget-priced in high-priced Ortisei and the prices only go up as you travel the few miles up-valley to the other villages.
Our Swiss & Dutch friends, Juergen & Diana, on Seceda at 8,200’. We first met at about that elevation in 2017 on San Jacinto above Palm Springs.
Pollution In the Air
We were devastated to have 2 bad air days in the middle of June while in Ortisei. One was sort of a shot across the bow: we both had mild breathing restrictions while hiking halfway up a very steep mountain, starting at 4000’, then the air cleared when enjoying our picnic. A couple of days later we watched the ominous, big, gray cloud of particles drift up valley, over us, and over the top of the nearby mountains. We were crushed.
We had hoped to be shielded from both the heat and the pollution in the mountains, but it was an imperfect barrier. We donned N95 masks and strolled instead maintaining more spirited paces for our daily walk and were drenched in sweat on the high humidity day heading for the 80°s, even in midmorning.
Fortunately, there was about an hour break from the mucky air when we enjoyed flinging our room windows open to blow out the contaminated air and go maskless. Luckily, we didn’t have to wear masks in our room that day, but it was a miserable sleeping that night in our hot, stuffy room given that we didn’t dare to open the windows in a room without AC.
Regrettably, Ortisei, and the entire mountain region, lack air quality monitoring stations and our only report was extrapolated with hours of lag time between updates. Too hot and sweaty to sleep, I checked the app in the middle of the night, hoping to learn it was safe to open the windows, only to find the reading hadn’t budged. It was still reporting an AQI of 76 and PM2.5 at 26 (both well above safe levels) when I opened the rolling shades in the morning to find clear skies. It was such a disappointment: hours of lost sleep for naught when I could have had the windows open.
With AC being scarce and the pollution reaching above the mountain tops, I was in a controlled panic because there was no refuge. Later that morning, it occurred to us to order a bagel-sized air quality monitor from the German Amazon site like the one we had at home, and we received it late the next day. It was a cherished intermediate solution: I couldn’t escape the asthma-inducing the toxins, but the battery-operated monitor would deliver realtime measurements to guide me. Rather than wait to become congested, I’d be able to don and remove my mask as the level of toxins fluctuated precisely where I was.
I’m lucky in that I don’t get severe asthma but just enough to feel like I am getting half of my usual amount of air, which is uncomfortable and triggers a deep malaise that lasts for days after the inciting episode. Like the lag in the updating on the air quality reports, my lungs lag in recovering once the air clears.
Hand raking the steep pastures was commonplace in the Dolomites.
Pollution On the Ground
Alpine trails lined with “blooms” of toilet paper are usually a sign that the southern Italian guests have arrived in the mountains for the summer—they are notorious among the locals for all sorts of bad behavior. One week we were admiring colorful, delicate flowers blooming in the higher elevation meadows and the next week, our eyes were drawn to the stark white tufts of toilet paper. It’s a phenomenon we are all too familiar with and I try to ignore, but each “bloom” does distract me.
This season, I witnessed a new wrinkle in the willful littering theme when a family’s dog immediately snatched the discarded tissue and proudly pranced around with the oversized wad of paper in his mouth. The value of his trophy find was enhanced by mama sweet-talking him to give it up, to no avail. This big, white dog was loving the attention it merited and the other family members did nothing but look slightly embarrassed. I walked on passed them, imagining that the dog would eventually drop the prize and the family would again leave it where it landed, not bothering to use the trail side waste bin—that’s not what they do.
Cranes used for new construction & renovations were everywhere.
I could only imagine the whiplash the local Italian Dolomite communities were feeling given the sudden, huge influx of tourists, including the southern Italians, a whiplash we also felt.
Part of what drew us back to Val Gardena repeatedly for the last 20 years was the seamless integration of the tourist industry into their local culture. It was wonderful to not feel separate from the community but a welcome part of it. Tourism, especially winter sports, had been a part of their lifestyle since the early 1800’s and they took it in their stride.
The Ladin people still spoke their language, celebrated their traditional events and festivals, and continued with their entrenched industries like wood carving and hand cutting and raking their pastures. For us, it was a Disneyland in which the hosts weren’t playacting but living the fantasy life along with us. We enjoyed the authenticity of their lifestyle and were heart-warmed to know that it wasn’t a veneer.
Every year, we marveled at the aggressiveness with which these local communities, communities with a foot fully anchored in their past, ramped up their tourist appeal with an open competition between the 3 primary villages in the mountain valley. Each community was constantly adding new events and activities to beckon tourists and it worked.
The summer Sella Ronda, for which they close all the roads on a circuit of 4 passes so cyclists (including us) can ride the narrow mountain roads without cars, went from being offered once a summer to twice each summer. The villages lunged at multiple opportunities to create routes and events for mountain bikes, and more recently, for e-bikes. In awe of their pressure for new and different, each season we looked to see what latest sport was now being cultivated. And it seemed that the rate of replacing and upgrading accommodations accelerated at a similar rate. Cranes became commonplace and we marveled at the zeal with which they tackled impossible slopes for building.
It seemed like the locals were caught off guard, that the decades of boom tourism culture fueled by them unexpectedly hit a unsustainable level and they were on overload. Abruptly, there was a building moratorium forbidding providing additional tourist accommodations. Parking at a popular mountain lake had to be reserved several days in advance to limit the crowds. The number of non-residents’ cars were restricted on certain roads, but to our eyes, they had lost control and the restrictions were too little, too late.
Previously, the only commentary about behavior was on billboards suggesting motorcyclists not kill themselves on the winding roads.
A young Italian man I gave directions to summed up the issue in my mind when he said, “It’s like a big gym with views.” Lost was the reverence for nature as epitomized by the Asian tourist with a drone. I asked him to land it so others could enjoy nature, but he carefully ignored me and kept it hovering too close to ear level in the crowds. It felt like a “use it and discard it” mentality had engulfed the area instead of honoring it as a place to be in communion with a natural wonder.
Of course, this flood of tourism isn’t unique to the Dolomites, but I suspect, unlike many places, the communities had been aggressively fostering growth for decades and then one day they were surprised to discover it was out of control. They seemed to have missed the warning signs and we couldn’t imagine what more they could do to dial it back. And we ached for people’s lost jobs, like in heavy construction, that thrived on the rampant growth.
On To Selva
Our 3 weeks in Ortisei, the most cosmopolitan of the 3 Val Gardena villages in the Dolomites, went by quickly. We would bypass the middle village, St Cristina, because it had the fewest trailheads of the trio, and next go to the upper village, Selva.
Another new activity: paying to take a llama for a walk.
It was in Selva that we’d be greeted with hugs from the apartment building owner who kept our bikes for 10 months a year for years. We’d exchange more hugs with the shy, Moldovan housekeeper who was worried about her parents who wouldn’t leave their lifelong home now under threat from Russian invasion. And Bill was greeted with “I remember you…” from the nearby bike shop service guy when he went in search of help for a rear tire problem.
It’s apparently a source of pride for our hostess to reassure us that she had the same apartment as before, ready for us. For the first time, the housekeeper had picked flowers from their small garden for our table. “Ah, a wonderful homecoming” to a place we’ve being staying for many years.
Our Selva apartment would be much cooler than the one in Ortisei, as well as quieter and, just being 1000’ higher would yield clean air more days. We would both sleep better and feel calmer only 6 miles more up the mountain on the edge of the village instead of in the center of the pedestrian district. For the first time, we’d be staying in Selva for 2 months instead of 2 weeks in deference to possible heat waves and my orthopedic issues. We wondered if we’d be bored but we were committed to being contented in the dramatic mountain setting and the many trails.