The previous night featured lots and lots of rain hammering the range. By morning, the rain had stopped but the thick swirling clouds remained. It wasn’t a good day to climb, so we opted to hike. We used the map and hunted down a loop hike that featured a via ferrata. Being in the hotel, we slept great and enjoyed a large breakfast (where we also prepared fresh sandwiches for the hike). We navigated the hairpin turns down the pass and went to another small village, caught the lift to the top of the ridge where we started our traverse.

(above) Along the ridge, View of the mountain with the via ferrata (we climbed up and over the righthand buttress)

(above) Heading to mountain

The ridge hike was an easy stroll along paths bordered by deep green foliage. I’ve gotten to the point where I enjoy every type of outdoor hiking activity and it didn’t matter that this hike was a piece of cake; the views were impressive. To the west, we could see the huge north face of the Marmolada rising up towards the clouds.

(above) Panorama looking west. The massive north face of the Marmolada is on the left side of the photo.

The beginning of the via ferrata was easy to spot. This side was quite easy; we may not have even clipped in, I don’t recall. Very soon, we were on the top enjoying our fresh sandwiches and goofing around.

(above) Michael plays air guitar on the summit while Carlos looks on.

We started the via ferrata descent down the front of the mountain, which was visible from the gondola as we were ascending. Immediately, it was steep. There’s special gear for via ferratas nowadays – two clips attached to lines that, if you fall, are designed to pay out more line such that nothing snaps. We didn’t have this gear, nor did we want to spend the 85 Euro on it, so we used standard harnesses with our daisy chains. Our attitude was basically, “We’re climbers and, as is the case during simul-climbing, we’re not allowed to fall.” On a vertical via ferrata, the shock from a direct fall of about 10 feet catching on an iron pole is quite immense. Not a problem though; we’ve downclimbed lots and lots of hard ground.

(above) Beginning the downclimb of the via ferrata. Immediately, the terrain is steep and doesn’t relent for a long time.

We were enjoying ourselves quite a bit. Then so suddenly, it seemed, the rain began. We started moving more quickly. Then the small hail started. We were on a vertical ladder, which overhung in sections, during the most fierce part. Well, no one enjoyed this, but it was never desperate – in fact, I went back up the ladder part way for Michael to snap another picture. He made me hang there for a long time – my wimpy, no-recent-climbing arms got tired!

(above) I snapped this shot of Michael looking down the ladder during the hailstorm.

Thankfully, the weather moved on almost as quickly as it had come, but the route was soaked and a good bit more slippery. We were cautious the rest of the way down, relying on via ferrata “rappel” technique to aid our way down. At the bottom, we concocted another plan: The weather was due to be lousy for another day or two in the Dolomites, so let’s leave, go west to drier ground, and do a multi-day hike. OK, though it’s aggravating to change plans so suddenly, this capricious weather didn’t leave us much option. We decided to head to the Piz Badile area near Switzerland. I was totally into that, wanting to get a good look at that fabulous north ridge. But on the way, Michael had another revelation and we opted for the closer Ortler range. While Carlos napped, I piloted Michael and I up the ridiculously steep and high Stelvio Pass (40 switchbacks) to the tunes of Richard Wagner (the spectacular overture to the third act of Sigfried comes to mind). In the distance, set against bluish eerie moonlight, we could see the massive hulk of the Ortler looming over us with tremendous relief. The town of Trafoi provided a wonderful backdrop and I doubt I’ll ever forget that view with the town’s church steeple in the foreground. Though the setting was amazing, it was getting very late. We were due for another late arrival and struggle to find a place to crash. At the top of the pass, we changed the music to weird experimental synth music that Michael was fond of. The mood changed and we talked of zombies and dead things that most likely occupied the abandoned huts that we passed on our way steeply down to the town of Bormio. In Bormio, we drove here and there looking for a place to sleep. Eventually, after rationalizing that we should leave town, we steeply climbed one of the valley walls and took an improbable turn at a bar and soon found ourselves at a small and quiet park. The ground was soaked and we bedded down as best we could. Though it appeared it would be not too well-traveled, I remember multiple motorcycles and one car with stereo blaring driving right past us as I fell asleep.