Via ferrata in the Dolomites

“The Delle Trincee via ferrata route, near the Marmolada massif—the Dolomites’ tallest mountain—wastes no time. Starting with a 60-meter vertical climb, this eight-hour trail leads to the undulating Padon ridge, where I’d creep through tunnels hollowed out by World War I soldiers over a century before and wobble over rickety wooden bridges, as shaky as my heartbeat. It was my first via ferrata, and not one recommended for beginners—and I was green as they come. But in the spirit of going hard or going home, I was ready. Armed with a harness, carabiners, lanyards and a helmet rented from a local outdoors store, I hiked to the starting point. The sheer rockface loomed above, taunting, “Go on, try me.” And below? The turquoise Lake Fedaia, alpine meadows and marmot-littered rockpiles. Looking down was a luxury for later. For now, the only way was up and through, and there was no way I was turning back.”

“When fear set in, I breathed. I paused. I stayed present, focused on the raw texture of weathered limestone under my fingertips, the cool wind on my face and the endless ridges, pinnacles and spires that dominate the landscape like nature’s open-air cathedral. The higher I ascended, the more I felt my earthly worries fall away like loose rocks tumbling down a cliff—every inhale and careful step demanded undivided attention. Slowly but surely, I scaled the rock face, contorting my body in ways that honored those years of yoga practice. Clinging on, I realized the mountain wasn’t something to conquer, but to befriend. Learn its nooks, cracks, and hidden holds, and it becomes your guide. In return, you give it your ultimate focus. I’d never thought of climbing as a path to “flow state.” In reality, it’s nothing short of meditation—all that matters is the present, and that’s beautiful.”

“So what’s it like? Well, I found it to be sometimes scary, often challenging, but always exhilarating and the beauty of the Dolomites just adds to the experience. You can see how people quickly become addicted and return year after year. [...] This is where I started this piece, walking across a thin ledge, untroubled by the drops all around me, and the rickety bridge in front of me. I’d got used to it by then. I was safe in the knowledge that my equipment, and my use of it, would keep me safe so the only thing left to do was to enjoy the experience. And that was certainly what i was doing and why I’ll be going back again.”