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As a child, going to the Dolomites was the vacation, the only one of the year, with my parents. I went there other times as a boy with friends, and in July 2021 solo for a very thorough tour of the towns in the area as well.
I can say that my all-too-recent interest in trekking was latent and was sown by my parents. Going to the Dolomites back then meant big hikes without any equipment; picnics in the meadows with speck sandwiches plus fontina cheese and impressive breakfasts with butter, jam and milk from the alpine cows.
All mountains are beautiful, but going to the Dolomites, whether winter or summer is something unique because of the incredible colors.
Later it was very different with friends and different again in solitary.
Losing the keys in the snow
The first time I went with friends, it was supposedly for skiing. There were 12 of us, but of those two had never put a pair of skis on their feet, one was me.
My reckless friends took us on an easy trail, but not for those who had never done it before. I was more unconscious than they were because I jumped in without question. The other one, on the other hand, planted himself in the middle of the slope and cursed for a couple of hours. Then he thought of going down by cable car and found himself in one cabin just as the cable car had to stop for a few minutes because of a ‘breakdown. He discomfited other deities from different regions. Then he sulked about it for a couple of days, especially to me who was in fact unconscious.
He was right, partly because that didn’t make me a skier. I just didn’t know how to stand. Since by dint of tumbling I was a third of the way down the slope, a friend thought it best to help me by carrying me on his shoulder. In those years the clothing was slippery and I could not hold on to my friend very tightly, so that every 3/4 meter, we both rolled down. We were the joke of the track.
Lucky
I finally made it to the shelter, where I decided to wait quietly. At some point I realized that I no longer had the car keys that my friend had handed me. They had certainly come out of my jacket pocket that I had left open. They had fallen somewhere in the snow slope. There were five of us with the after skis and skis that we were supposed to get into that car. Of course, we didn’t have spare keys. It was a catastrophe!
Without saying anything to anyone, I attempted to walk up the trail to see if I could find them. It was a desperate task. Before admitting my guilt, I thought of asking at the refuge bar. Someone had found them and taken them there.
Next stop Holiday companions: clubbing without shoes
Trips taken, travel stories divided by continent
Anecdotes, divided by type in travel narratives
Countries visited in my travel stories
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