Dolomites

August 4

Today, we hiked.  And not that ridiculous Canadian hiking where you schlep thousands of feet up a mountain, provisions on your back for the day.  Nope, this was European hiking.  Take a cable car up the steep bit, meander around a flattish alpine plateau, stop for lunch at the full service alpine hut, and then walk down to the main lodge area.

The area in question was Alpe Di Suisi, a spectacular mountain plateau between peaks crisscrossed by 4 or 5 cable cars.  Not only is it a beautiful hike, it makes for an impressive ski area.  In fact, skiing here has just been added to my bucket list.  The little "town" of Compatch serves at the jumping off point for mountain exploration.  You can drive or take a cable car up to Compatch, but if you drive you need to be there before 9am as they close the road to traffic once the park opens.  Compatch really made me think of a smaller European, less pretentious version of of Tremblant. There are a few hotels, some gear shops, a deli and a few restaurants.  It's not nearly as expansive as Tremblant, and I really got the sense that it preferred to allow attention be focused on the surrounding mountains. 

The hike was a loop that took us to a high point from which we could look down upon the patchwork of greens and emerald that made up the valley floor, ribboned with the little town of Castelrotto.  With the prevalence of German spoken around us and the depth and roll of the alpine valleys, it felt more like Switzerland than Italy.   Especially give the wild mountain cows!  Ok, so they weren't wild and were well penned in by electric fences.  They were, however, wearing large clanking bells and seemed to be capable of reaching ridiculous heights along the higher meadows in search of tastier grass.  

There is actually a whole way of life in these valleys with small farms dotting the hills, mostly structures that seem limited to summer habitation only.  They're nestled along the banks of alpine valley hills or snuggled within a small valley.  It seems like it would be one of those peaceful ideal existences, if rather strenuous, farming those hillsides.  Of course, the reality is likely quite different from the picture postcard images they present, but in the sunny meadow, it looks like an uncomplicated, restful life.  I imagine that is the appeal for all of us trekking past.

When the kids tired, I drew up every Shakespeare story I could remember to entertain them.  Hamlet actually works really well, especially when you get to the part where everybody dies.  Alas, we don't have internet access here in San Michele, otherwise I'd spend some time refreshing my memory of A Midsummer Night's Dream and The Taming of the Shrew.

Lunch was at an alpine hunt along the route, where we chowed down on pasta, Bratwurst and speck and eggs over potatoes.  Hardy mountain fare, which would have been much appreciated had we actually trudged up to get there, but having taken the cable car up the first ascent, it seemed a little excessive.  Of course, we chowed down anyway, sitting on the patio in the shade enjoying people watching while the kids played foozball on a table in the little playground (they used a rock for a ball).

The rest of the hike brought us down from the cool mountain air and feeling the full power of the strong mountain sun.  I was reminded how sunshine in the mountains can be caressingly warm and harshly scalding at the same time depending on which side of the ridge you are standing.  The kids started to wane a little, but seemed spurred on by the constant sound of grasshoppers and little rivulets along the path (ok, and the promise of ice cream).

Because words can never really do justice to alpine meadows, once again, I will let the pictures speak for themselves.

After getting some groceries for the morning and cleaning up at our little mountain refuge (which while in a beautiful spot, seems to be devoid of heating so not a place to linger after the sun is down unless you're jumping under the duvet), we headed into Castelrotto for dinner at a little pizzeria in town.  Our first pizza in Italy since arriving here, and we were surrounded by Germans-speakers.  I thought it was funny.

Back on our apartment, the distant strains of a thunder storm rolled across the mountains.  The reverberation of the sound across the valleys and rock walls is an intense and yet relaxing sound (as long as you're safe and dry).  It sounds like a giant boulder rolling down the valleys and precipices.

The parting shot for tonight has become almost a daily ritual.  Good night from San Michele.