The Italian Dolomites: Tre Cime di Lavaredo
Three seems to be a magic number. Three Musketeers. Three Stooges. Three Men and a Baby. So perhaps it is no surprise that this trio of mountain peaks, Tre Cime di Lavaredo, is such a popular spot in the Dolomites. In fact, I seem to have a penchant for triple mountain towers, as hiking to see the Torres del Paine for sunrise was the impetus for my trip to Chile. Tre Cime was my last real stop in the Dolomites--a 10 km hike involving an overnight stay at Rifugio Locatelli in order to catch the sunrise the following morning.
I dropped off my parents in the early afternoon at a hotel in Cortina d'Ampezzo, a town about 40 minutes away. The recommendation everywhere I had read was to come early in the day to avoid the crowds and find parking, but I was hopeful that by mid-afternoon most of the day-trippers will have came and went. In order to reach the park, one must first stop at a toll booth to pay the €30 fee. From there, it's a winding, steep mountain drive before reaching the parking lot of Rifugio Auronzo, which marks the trailhead.
Backpack, poles, and camera in hand, I eagerly set off along the wide gravel path, dwarfed by what I would later learn were the backsides of the three peaks. The flat, easy trail was well-trafficked, with most people heading back towards the trailhead. But I paid no mind to the other hikers, as I was in a wonderland of rugged spires and verdant valleys, though with some fairly ominous clouds encroaching. I passed an alpine plain--cattle grazing or lounging idly, the clangs of their cowbells echoing forlornly against the rock.
I soon passed a quaint church, Cappella degli Alpini, before rounding the bend and catching sight of Rifugio Lavaredo, nestled near the base of the towering peaks. At that point, the foreboding clouds had swept in, and I quickly packed away my camera, as the rains opened up.
I trudged up the hill, pelted with rain, a bit concerned that I would have to resign myself to inclement weather for the duration of my time here. At one point, I tucked myself under the overhang of a large boulder to escape the rain for a time.
My cold, damp hands clutched my poles tightly (ah the regret of not bringing gloves). I eventually crested the hill, an achievement celebrated by a particularly savage wind gust, and surveyed what I'm sure would have been a stunning view of the valley below, had it not been for the rain and fog. I carefully shuffled my way down the increasingly muddy hill, looking back at what I came to realize were the three peak of Lavaredo, shrouded in rain clouds.
Mercifully, after about 30 minutes, the rain slackened and glimpses of blue peaked out from behind the clouds. It wasn't long before the skies cleared, sunlight dramatically flooding the once veiled valley to reveal a truly stunning vista.
In the distance, I spotted my accommodations for the evening, Rifugio Locatelli (or Dreizinnenhütte in German). Buoyed by the sight, I eagerly made my way down the level trail, stopping to occasionally drink in Tre Cime, looming above the now sun-filled valley. After climbing up a steep staircase, I reached the hostel. This refuge, situated at an altitude of 2,450 m, has sheltered hikers since 1883. I popped in to drop off my pack and get checked-in--cash only, as they don't have any cellular service.
I had a couple of hours until dinner, so I headed out to explore the surrounding area. Immediately behind the Rifugio were the two charming Piani lakes, whose reflections mirrored the ever-changing skies. I noticed a trail above the lakes, disappearing behind Torre di Toblin, that looked intriguing, and so I set off. While I am all for doing one's research and planning ahead, part of what I love about travel is venturing into the unknown. I had no idea where this trail led or how long it was, but finding out what's round the bend or over the next hill is really what inspires me to keep traveling.
There's nothing like turning a corner and discovering your own hidden treasure, which was exactly what I found as I made my way down the trail. A truly awe-inspiring panorama of mountains stretched out across the horizon. And I had it all to myself--an empty trail and seemingly endless craggy mountain spires stretching into the distance. I followed the narrow, rocky trail, perched somewhat precipitously on the hillside, all the way around Torre di Toblin. I soon caught sight again of Tre Cime, brightly-illuminated in the late afternoon light and followed the path back to Rifugio Locatelli.
Dinner was held at 6 pm, which entailed clearing out the bar patrons so they could set the tables, resulting in a bunch of travellers awkwardly standing in the hall, half-finished drinks in hand, awaiting their meal. I checked in and got my dinner seat assignment (based on what I glimpsed of their seating chart, at the equivalent of the singles table at an Italian mountain hostel wedding). The set menu options were only in Italian or German, so I made an educated guess and hoped for the best (the main turned out to be mashed potatoes with beef cheek and pickled cabbage, so a win!). Ultimately, my only other tablemates were a trio of men, who largely kept to themselves, so crosswords kept me company while I enjoyed my carafe of wine and hearty 3-course dinner. I had hoped to catch the sunset reflected on the three peaks, but the clouds seemed to have rolled in later in the evening, making for an uneventful sunset.
I had been assigned a lower bunk in a 24-bed room. The mountain chill seeped in from the outside, so I swaddled myself in the thick blankets they provided and settled in with a book for the night (as I was sans wifi). My reading was abruptly cut short at 9:30 pm, with lights out, and so I attempted perhaps the earliest sleep I'd had in years. Unusually for me, who typically sleeps like the dead, I had a surprisingly fitful sleep, waking up every couple hours to a veritable symphony of nocturnal noises. Though I was likely anxious to ensure I awoke in time for sunrise.
I crept out of bed before dawn, pulling on my clothes in the dark and headed outside to await the sunrise. The morning mountain air was cold and biting, so to keep warm, I walked around looking for an ideal vantage point, ultimately coming back to where I had started. I stood staring at the horizon, watching the skies gradually turn shades of pink and orange and revelling in the morning silence that hung heavily over the landscape. Eventually, pale rays of sunlight painted the mountain tops, steadily creeping downwards as the sun crested the horizon.
The angle of sunrise ultimately caught Tre Cime from the side, rather than the front, so they were never fully-illuminated. It would seem that sunset, if you can catch it, would be the more picturesque time of day for this trio of mountain peaks. After I'd had my fill, I started the journey towards Rifugio Auronzo, taking a different route than the one I'd come the previous day. This was a long, winding path, switchbacking all the way down to the valley floor, before steeply ascending upwards again. The climb was interminable, and I was soon stripped down to my base layers.
The trail eventually levelled out, and it was a pleasant walk in the sunshine over rolling hills and across a small creek. I passed Malga Langalm, the final refuge along the trail, where I probably would have stopped for a spot of breakfast, but I needed to get back to pick up my parents. From there, I crested a hill and was treated to a sweeping view of Puster Valley.
It wasn't long before I caught sight of the gorgeous mountain vista that had greeted my arrival the previous day. I was soon back at the car park, the Tre Cime di Lavaredo loop completed. It was a perfect way to cap off a wonderful first visit to the Dolomites. Funnily enough, the highlight of the Tre Cime hike was not what I'd originally come to see but the discoveries I'd made on my own. Perhaps it's somewhat impossible for the things you earmark as must-sees to ever truly live up to what you have in your mind's eye, a compilation of images sourced from Instagram and Google. Which is why it's so important to allow yourself the freedom to explore beyond the carefully-curated checklist (which, don't get me wrong, provides a fantastic and necessary starting point). This first visit had just scratched the surface of all there is to see in the Dolomites, and I'm sure it will not be the last.
