In 25 years of playing in the mountains, daily no less, I have never witnessed nature’s power as I did this afternoon.
Rising over 1200 meters directly behind our house in the Italian Dolomites are the northern slopes of the Plan de Corones, or Kronplatz. The giant hillside is completely covered in thick, lush forest with a massive network of dirt roads and singletrack mountain biking trails. Literally 2 minutes from our door, it is our playground.
This afternoon, much later than I would like with “extreme thunderstorms” forecast, I headed out for a training session. Shorts, short sleeve jersey, vest for the downhill – it’s summer, right?
As I neared the 3/4 mark to the top I began getting glimpses west, black is an understatement for what was approaching. I continued up having no doubt it would rain but with little concern as it is not so unusual to get a good soaking in the European Alps. A group of downhillers came bombing towards me. Through each of their face guards I could see little beady eyes looking at me with sick pleasure. Turns out they had seen something from up high that I missed being down in the trees. The fact that they were on the dirt road, and not the downhill course should have been a good clue for me to turn tail and get the hell down.
Minutes after they passed the first drops began to pelt me. But this wasn’t rain, it was like waterballoons coming down. And then, like the sun had been extinguished, the day went black as night. Here, those that know me will surely question my exaggeration level – the “Dan Factor” as Janine likes to call it. I swear it to be a zero. Had I have had a headlamp I would have surely considered the On switch. Creepy is a good term to describe how it felt as I now crept upward.
The disturbing silence was shattered by what sounded like a military aircraft coming in low, as it came closer the sound grew, I thought for sure something was about to crash into the hillside, and then I was driven sideways, nearly off the road, my left foot unclipping just in time to save me from plummeting down the steep forested slope. Wind so violent it was more like a wave of water than air, a nearby tree exploded and crashed to the ground, I barely stayed upright. Determined, I carried on, intrigued by what was happening; the blackness, the wind, and now the thundering explosions of what was right on top of me. Basically, I thought, “Cool”. I heard an SMS come in and quickly pulled the phone from my jersey pocket, it was Janine, “Are you okay? Get home fast”.
Suddenly my little game changed when one word entered my head. “Hail.”
Immediately I stopped, pulled out the vest, and by the time it was zipped closed all hell broke loose, hail, like a sand blaster. Summer no more. Back on board the bike I was ripping down best I could given that I couldn’t see and my bare skin felt like it was being torn off . But soon the hail stopped and my tempo settled into something tolerable, I actually began enjoying my 700 meter descent in what was quickly becoming a torrent of brown, rushing water. I imagined myself Captain Dan from Forrest Gump, on my bike, hanging on, loving that feeling of being really so small in something so big and powerful.
Dolomites Tour Operator