Thomas Voeckler with the Pain Face

This post is going to be a community effort – in other words, at the end of the story, I need your own contribution on this subject -but first, read on.

Recently, while suffering mightily in a race, I actually pondered the question, “What do other people think about in competitive events when they are suffering?” Apparently, I think about blogging. But not just this, I was trying to stay focused, maintain my breathing and be aware of my body to see where/if I could either save some energy or be more efficient at my max for the distance. But all of this only goes so far, at some point the other stuff creeps in; doubt, anxiety, longing to be finished, and fear of being caught. From my years of being a competitive athlete, I know that all this stuff needs to be managed.

What seems like a lifetime ago, I was a young road racer living in Davis, California. One spring I did California’s Visalia Road Race in a full field of 100 plus riders. Alone, with about 8 miles remaining and one big climb, I got away from the group. There, on the last climb, I realized that all my training was for this moment, and we don’t get them so often.

I’d spent the winter riding obsessively, also alone, in miserably wet, foggy and windy conditions of California’s Central Valley. I vividly remember days riding on partially flooded farm roads, where each pedal stroke dunked my foot in brown water. I can still see the rain drops as they dripped from the rim of my hat while I sat changing a flat tire with soaked, wrinkled skin and numb fingers in the muck on the side of some country road. It was no surprise I was the only one out.

In Visalia I managed to stay away, I rolled over the top of the climb and began my descent knowing I had a chance. Inside my head came the voices, “A chase group is coming”, “They are better descenders”, “They are closer than you think”, “How will I keep it together for the flat section to the finish?” This is the stuff that needs to be managed. “Fuck all that, this is why I spent all those hours sitting in the rain and wind.” For perhaps the first time in my life, I was 100% focused on what I wanted, everything else dropped away. Inside my Pain Face was one thing only, determination.

At the bottom of the descent I took the last right turn wide, got out of the saddle and started sprinting the final section of straight road through a corridor of orange trees. Ahead was the finish line and some audible cheers from the meager crowd. With 200 meters to go, I looked back over my shoulder to see the chase group in full pursuit. Every rider was out of the saddle sprinting towards the line. My Pain Face turned into something else when I looked forward again, I was crossing the finish first. From not having anything in my head to having it all, that moment is mine.

Still in a full sprint, I did something that surprised no one more than myself. I didn’t stop, I kept going, straight to my little white pickup where I jumped off my bike, threw it in the back, grabbed my hidden key, jumped in and sped away. What could have been my first big victory salute on a finish line was saved for the privacy of my own car. Maybe I wasn’t ready to get outside my head, I wanted it all to myself.

Ultimately, unless you are a professional athlete, the outcome does not matter – what matters is what goes on inside your head, for that is what you really experience.

My Question to You

What do you think about at times like this? You ultra runners… what are your thoughts at mile 80 when you’re hurting and full of doubt? Or, the ski mountaineering racers on those long and painful climbs when there are someone else’s ski tips on your tails? And you bike racers in a break wondering if everyone else hurts as much as you do as you rotate through to the front? What goes through your head? Are you focused on your body? Managing the stress? Thinking about ice cream? Or are your thoughts scrambled, a little of this, a little of that?

Please, for all you athletes regardless of what you compete in, leave a comment here and let’s hear your thoughts.

Thank you in advance to those the contribute.

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Thanks to Manuel Riz www.manuelriz.blogspot.com

The Problem of Too Many Motorcycles in the Dolomites

(Note 12/19/11 : Thanks to so much great support, this post is getting a ton of traffic, BUT – having views means nothing if we are going to show it to the powers that can do something about this problem, PLEASE – Leave a comment)

It’s time to bring up a nasty subject that many who visit the Dolomites experience in a very negative way. For years now I have felt growing anger and frustration for the thousands of motorcycles that come to the Italian Dolomites. I finally brought it up to locals, business owners and my athlete friends and promptly discovered I’m not the only one who feels this way. So angry are they that the subject is almost painful to discuss, for it seems nothing is being done about it. I however, am more than happy to publicly state my thoughts and make it clear that these motorcycles are a cancer to this amazing region.

Motorbikes on the Passo Gardena

The Dolomites are unarguably one of the world’s most beautiful landscapes and everyone has the right to experience them. But why is one user group allowed to negatively impact the experience of all the others while at the same time causing numerous disturbances to the natural environment in the forms of noise and exhaust pollution as well as a very real threat to the safety of others.

The problem is that motorcyclists come from all over Europe to ride the Dolomite’s famously steep and curvy mountain roads. This is fine as an activity, but the manner in which all too many do it is completely irresponsible on the part of both the riders and local authorities.

This last summer was my first spent climbing some of the walls in the Dolomites. Nowhere is the issue of these motorcycles more apparent than up high where there should be no sound but the wind and jingling of climbing gear. Yet here, the roar of motorcycles is a nearly nonstop irritant. They are so loud it is often impossible to hear one’s partner. Numerous friends came for both climbing and cycling and all made the same comment, “This is disgusting”.

And the Dolomites are a UNESCO World Heritage Site? What a joke. It would be better named the UNESCO International Motor Speedway.

The Dolomites UNESCO Status

This from the UNESCO Page regarding the criterion of managing the Dolomites in accordance with UNESCO Requirements:

“The property requires protection from tourism pressures and related infrastructure. Each of the component parts of the serial property requires its own individual management plan, providing not only for the protection and management of land use, but also the regulation and management of human activities to maintain its values, and in particular to preserve the qualities of its natural landscapes and processes, including extensive areas which still have wilderness character. Areas that are subject to more intensive visitation need to be managed to ensure visitor numbers and activities are within the capacity of the property in relation to the protection of both its values and the experience of visitors to the property. Adequate resources and staffing, and coordination between the staff teams in the different components of the property are also essential.”

Seemingly nothing is adhered to. Protection from infrastructure? They just keep building; pistes, lifts, hotels, access roads, you name it. Maintain the values of human activities? Apparently loud motor sports are a historical activity and value. Or maybe they just see, “Maintain value”, as in €€€. Preserve the qualities of natural environment? In many places of the Dolomites it sounds like you are at the Indy speedway. And it seems the only staffing is by politicians looking to satisfy businesses within the region who everyone knows pockets most of their earnings to avoid exorbitantly high Italian tax rates.

Meanwhile, the Italian police, in their typical show of dramatic yet completely inefficient force, have set up speed traps on busy summer days. The joke is, according to Italian law they must post signs warning oncoming traffic of the impending radar check that lay just ahead. The motorcycles slow to legal speeds, pass by, then resume their ear splitting roar after the next curve in the road. …”Ha ha carabinieri. Fools.”

Or, as is well known, motorcyclists come in groups and send one rider ahead to check for police or anything that may be in the way of his friends – once all clear, he calls back and gives the go ahead for his 18 buddies to charge full bore up or down a pass. Never mind the cyclists silently pedaling along who have to listen to or be nearly taken out by the mirrors on these super bikes. The father of a close friend was killed by a motorcycle while riding his bike up a Dolomites Pass in just such a scenario.

While riding here, I have seen several serious crashes and countless near misses when they lose control in turns, or veer right into my line, when they can’t control the power of the bike they have rented.

What Can be Done?

I have heard from local businesses that there is a fear that with increased motorcycle regulations will come a decrease in revenue. But wait, motorcyclists can’t drink beer during the day. And, it is commonly known that many do not stay in hotels within the Dolomites but opt to stay outside where it is cheaper, the same place where they eat dinner so they aren’t driving at night. I asked several friends who have affordable hotels right in the Dolomites if they ever have motorcylists as guests. The answer, “Almost never”. Why can’t these businesses turn their attention to other summer tourists who also come in great numbers; hikers, cyclists, and climbers.

There are grumblings from within the region, namely from Michil Costa, a local hotel owner and well known activist who strives to keep a handle on tourism gone wild. But it would seem that like so many things, the almighty Euro speaks loudest. As tourists grow tired of the Dolomites experience, or word does get out of the problem, perhaps would be visitors will go elsewhere. All the many tourism websites and magazine articles glorifying the Italian Dolomites are not telling the whole truth. Like my friends all said, “It is disgusting”.

The only thing that may change this is if other tourists begin making it clear that these motorcycles are not tolerable. The web, forums and social media are great ways to start. Italy was one of the first countries in the EU to do something about second hand cigarette smoke in restaurants – how different is this? A solution is to remove some of the freedom these motorcycles are abusing. Have some real speed traps with huge fines, have real noise ordinances that are enforced, and multiple offenders lose the right to drive a motorbike. I do not see this problem on Swiss passes where there are regulations and consequences for breaking them. There I see motorcycles, not in the same numbers, but I see them riding slower and not making nearly the same noise.

The Impact on Dolomite Cyclists, Hikers and Climbers

Visiting mountain lovers be warned. It can be horribly obnoxious and occasionally dangerous here, so much so that I mostly refuse to ride my bike on any of the best passes from about July 1 through early September. Also, educate yourself about the German and Austrian holidays in May and June, for these periods have the Dolomites a virtual racetrack for big, fast bikes.

The Sellaronda Bike (Bicycle) Day

A move in the right direction regarding awareness comes in the form of the now twice annual Sellaronda Bike Day. This event, held early in the summer and again in mid September, draws 16,000 cyclists to enjoy the famous Sellaronda Loop, on closed roads. In addition to the cyclists are an increase in the number of hikers and climbers who can now enjoy one of the most beautiful areas of the Dolomites in silence. The event has brought about awareness and acknowledgement that these tourists, ever hungry and thirsty, bring in enormous revenue while not impacting the environment.

Have you been to the Dolomites? What was your experience?

This is where I ask for your comments. Pressure needs to be put on the region from those that come and spend money. Voice your opinion. If you have been to the Dolomites and had experiences with the motorbikes, good or bad, please let us know. Leave a comment and we’ll make sure the messages and experiences are passed on to the Tourism Board.

(Note 12/19/11 : Thanks to so much great support, this post is getting a ton of traffic, BUT – having views means nothing if we are going to show it to the powers that can do something about this problem, PLEASE - Leave a comment)

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Over the summer I was training with an American cyclist friend visiting the Dolomites. He’s ten years younger, still competitive and hungry for results. At the time I was moderately fit on the bike, so together we rode hard in the mountains. He destroyed me. Back at my place one day I was recalling a story for him when I said, “I was listening to This American Life on my headphones while riding and…” . “Whoa, wait a second”, he stopped me. “You were listening to a podcast and not Slipknot while training?”. This little question made things very clear.

Unmistakable signs of age. They are showing up. I’m trying to convince myself that these subtle little changes are okay, let’s see what the natural aging process does. On the bike, one thing becoming very commonplace, is the Stop.

What is the Stop? It’s simple, it is saying yes to that nagging call of seeing a great spot while out riding, but actually stopping, getting out of the pedals and off the bike, and actually parking your padded, and possibly chamois creamed, rear on a bench/wall/rock/grass or cafe chair. There are few more enjoyable things to do in life. It is a pause while loving something to simply soak it all in, where you are, how you feel, and to really take in where your legs have gotten you.

I’ve known about the importance of the Stop for many years as I had an experience prove the value of taking this time for myself. I grew up bike racing in Sacramento, California. The beautiful American River Bike Trail was my commuting road, my training ground and even as a kid, my way to school. One particular bench became a standard stop. There I sat with friends and drank coffee while bike commuting to work. There I sat and ate a bar after a huge training day and River Ride. There I sat to soak in it all, being an athlete, being alive and out doing what I love.

In 1997, life took me to Alaska where I commercial fished for 6 months. It was a trying and difficult time. Sometimes 40 hours would go by without sleep and the resulting mental state would have me hallucinating to other places, other times. More than any other place I would drift off to was that bench. It was the natural place my mind would seek safety and comfort. Even so very faw away, I had to go to that bench.

Now, I seek out these Stops. Equally as important as the ride’s experience are the little additions I give it. Ultimately, these things are more important than my average heart rate or kilometers ridden. Today I stopped at a bench I know well and felt the warmth of an unusually warm December day dry my sweat after a 500 meter climb. I looked down on my valley, frozen in the shadows yet glowing in the sun, and I simply enjoyed being.

My road home

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Morning winter camp outside the Buttermilks in California's Eastern Sierra

Last spring I made the conscious decision to not let the bike rule my year. Meaning, I did not want to focus on racing a road bike and all the time required to train – I wanted to let my year flow, do whatever sounded good at the time, travel to different places, do a little of everything, and especially to get back to what I used to be most passionate about. Climbing.

Dan Patitucci on Supercrack, Indian Creek, Utah

From 1989 to about 1996 I did little else. It was time spent doing anything but working. Little did I know it was an investment in my future as an athlete, part of the outdoor industry and finally as a professional mountain sport photographer. Time well spent. Later, I mellowed out on the climbing schedule to study photography and figure out exactly what it was I was going to do. Hooking up with Janine established a vision, we committed to being outdoor photographers and once again I was both climbing and shooting climbing.

As our business grew we evolved towards other subjects. But lately, the bug is back, I am ready to climb, or more accurately I am ready to go on a climbing trip. There are few things like it, especially in the States if one knows where to go and how to live; car camping in the Eastern Sierra sage, sleeping beneath the stars on a clear Sierra night, waking up with a wall of granite as your objective. Bliss.

Moonlit camp at Iceberg Lake beneath Mt. Whitney

Ahead of us are six weeks cruising the US; our old playground of the Eastern High Sierra, Indian Creek, Yosemite and finishing up at Smith Rock. What makes this trip extra special is the fact that we are doing it all with Italian friends – the first being Alberto De Giuli, who has never been on US soil. To see my own nation through his eyes will be interesting, he has been entertained by me in his home country, now I get to revisit what is so familiar but once again experience the newness of it all.

First up for Alberto: Acclimating to the art of being a dirtbag American climber. It is nearly impossible to be a true dirtbag in Europe. I have tried to tap into my roots but truly, it seems hopeless as I get more and more civilized with each road trip. Just the other night we bivvied in our car at the Tre Cime before climbing, but having eaten lunch that day at a three star hotel followed by dinner at a Michelin Two Star, Brunello buzz and all, this hardly qualified as “dirtbagging” it. As we settled into our car for the night we watched some nearby Germans cooking on their camp stove, Janine posed the question, “I wonder what they’re having for dinner?” At this we roared, but soon we realized that we truly do miss some of the simpler things.

In the coming weeks we hope to share some of what we are up to, check back here for stories, reports and of course loads of photos.

Some things have really changed: Not much film cannister labeling these days

Other things haven't changed at all: Cannot wait to drink Peet's in the Sierra backcountry

Thankfully, the days of living on the road in an '84 VW are long over

Good memories from an epic: Bedside first aid kit & climbing gear

Off we go... YeeHAW

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.

The entire ridge traverse, from the right to left and back to the where the photo was made before the last descent to the Val San Nicolo (below) >click to enlarge

Val di Fassa’s Val San Nicolo Ridge Traverse

After twelve years together, living, working and playing in the mountains – Janine and I may well have just discovered our perfect day. One of the very best of about 4000 days together in the mountains. Janine found it, right there on the Val di Fassa map; a feature, some trails, a little creative route planning and then an announcement that we’ll be doing a “big ridge traverse” this week. Ok.

First up, I need to make a disclaimer if this is to be used as a route planner. This trail is NOT for everyone, it is far from easy, includes exposed climbing sections, requires comfort in high places, and a bit of route finding. Nevertheless, it is all there and certainly not an epic unless you choose to make it so. We saw just two other people on the trail, I asked them in Italian if they too thought it was amazing, the answer, “Ja, aber nicht so einfach”. Okay, they’re weren’t Italians and they’re weren’t enjoying it quite as much as us, but you might. If the following sounds good to you, and you are in the Dolomites, do not miss this experience.

Highlights: Via Ferrate, exposure, no crowds, abundant World War 1 history, tunneling, caving, scrambling, countless summits, two huts, and quite possibly the best views of any location in the Dolomites (if only the afternoon had been clear!!).

Janine in the early morning headed to the Zeni Bivouac and the start of the Via Ferrata F. Gadotti

Via Ferrata F. Gadotti and the Alta Via B. Federspiel

What Janine discovered on the map was the Alta Via B. Federspiel starting from the Val San Nicolo above the Val di Fassa just outside Pozza di Fassa. The feature is a massive circular ridge system with a trail tracing its crest, alternating between Via Ferrata and “advanced” hiking route. But she added to the trail, starting on the Cima Dodici (Sas da le Duodesh) on the Via Ferrata F. Gadotti above the Zeni Bivouac. From the summit, trails and more ferrate link to the Forcella la Costela and the start of the Alta Via B. Federspiel. From here, one thing is immediately obvious. It is going to be a long day. And this was just the first part, for this ridge system terminates at the Rifugio Passo delle Selle. But the ridge continues, becoming the Sentiero Atti Bepi Zac which mostly follows a WWI trench and tunnel system all the way to the Costabela.

This section is certainly the most raw for WWI history, for much still remains from the war 95 years ago. It is not prettied or tidied up, it is a mess of barbed wire, artillery placements, tunnels, living quarters and stone barriers. We found bomb shrapnel, pieces of old leather boots, and oddly, very oddly – many bone fragments of unknown origin. We have never seen bone fragments elsewhere, why here? While traversing this section the pace will certainly slow to have a morbid look at human history. The Austrian and Italians had it out on this high and lonely ridge. The Austrian tunnels have gun turrets facing south, the Italian versions with windows pointing north. Trenches are still in place right on the crest and dotted with caves built as sleeping quarters – it is this very system of trenches and exposed ledges that the trails follows.

Dan; How big is the Zeni Bivouac? This small...

From the Costabela the trail plummets from the crest down deep into the cirque at the end of the Val San Nicolo. Here we found another trail, not on the map, that connected us to the parallel ridge starting at the Pas de San Nicolo where a well placed hut awaits. This is the beginning of an all new ridge and the second, and return, section of the traverse. From the Rifugio Pas de San Nicolo the remainder of trail is much more well traveled and less rugged. While the entire first section is straight up & straight down in rocky terrain, this section is singletrack through grasses and wildflowers traversing up and down until it ends at the ski station Col de Valvagin. From here, we took the service road 800 meters down to the valley below where we had left the car at the Malga al Crocifisso.

We did the entire trail in one day, beginning at 6am, we returned to the car at 8pm. Stops were made for photos/views and a sizeable lunch of pasta (of course). The trail is slow going, especially due to the Via Ferrate and rocky terrain in the first part. We thought to run much of it but the running really only comes towards the end.

As described, the tour could be done in many ways, even using the huts for overnighting. Or, the first big peak climb and Via Ferrata could be skipped. All names are from the Tabacco Map 06 Val di Fassa. It is very difficult to say how long this trail is with how intricate the route is, we estimate 26-28 kilometers and about 3800 total meters of climbing. An interesting note is that the tour begins on Dolomite rock, turns to a long section of Gneiss (complete with a completely different feel), and then turns back to Dolomite.

What allows this trail to have such magnificent views is its position. The ridgeline is part of what separates the southern Dolomites from the northern. Therefore, when on top of the crest nearly everything may be seen. I have never seen one area where so much is visible; from the Sas dla Crusc, Tofana, Sassolungo, Catinaccio, Odla to the Pale di San Martino, Civetta and even the Agner. It is the perfect location from which to see the Dolomites.

Janine at the start of the Via Ferrata F. Gadotti

From the summit of the Cima Dodici looking into the Val di Fassa, the Cattinacio and Pozza

The second peak of the day, the Sas Aut

Via Ferrata F. Gadotti with the approach trail far below

Janine descending in caves from the summit of the Sas Aut

Long, steep descent through a chasm from the Sas Aut

Finally, the ridge traverse begins here, at the Forcella de la Costela. Far in the distance, at the top left is the Rifugio Passo delle Selle and the end of this section, just the beginning

Endless up and down on the ridgeline in this terrain getting to the first hut

Before the Rifugio delle Selle is the beginning of the War area with ledges that served as the frontlines

The majority of the day is spent right on the crest

War ledges

Dan having a pasta at Rifugio Passo delle Selle

Immediately after leaving the hut is a long climb and the real War trail through tunnels and trenches for about 3 kilometers

Barbed wire and religion

The trail leads through tunnels that were the network for moving around without being exposed to gunfire

Windows can be seen in the cliff faces that were gun placements

Finally some terrain for running, the original goal for the day, comes after the Rifugio Passo San Nicolo

Janine on the last section of ridge before the big descent back to the Val San Nicolo. The first ridge's earlier sections can be seen in the background

The final section on perfect running terrain. The ski station, the end of the ridge, can be seen in the distance

Dan, end of the day, end of the ridge - the final meters to the last summit

As we descended, our first climb came into view, the beginning of our giant circle. The bright orange Zeni Bivouac can be seen in the green below the walls

In the valley, the final obstacle to the car

Walking through WWI trenches, Monte Lagazuoi

The bottom entrance to the Lagazuoi Gallery

A Historical Walk to Dinner through the Lagazuoi Tunnels

Part of the culture of life in the Italian Dolomites is to share a dinner with friends in one of the many mountain huts (rifugi) – for us, this is habit. Sometimes we hike, other times it’s a ski approach, maybe a trail run, or even a mountain bike ride. But last night was something unique, we arrived to the Rifugio Lagazuoi via a pitch black tunnel from WWI that ascends nearly 400 meters to the top of Monte Lagazuoi.

Our friend Carolyn is doing the Alta Via 1 and called to invite us for dinner at the hut. It was the perfect summer evening to head up and see her as well as the hut’s owner and friend Guido Pompanin. Dinner was set for 6:45 – we arrived at the trailhead at 6 and immediately took note of the trail sign indicating a two hour walk to the hut. “Merda, RUN!”

Inside the Gallery

A couple hundred meters above the parking area the trail splits; options include a long hike around the peak to it’s backside and up to the summit hut, or a tunnel going straight up within the mountain itself. The tunnel is a kind of museum as it is a perfectly preserved piece of war history. Built over a period of many months by the Italian army during WWI, the tunnel was meant to access the top and ultimately blow up the strategically located Austrian artillery placement. The monumental effort of boring through a mountain simply to then blow it up paid off and the Austrians lost there stronghold. Today, where men once lived in misery and fear, iPhone wielding tourists now strut about bound for the hut and a pasta, I was no exception.

Janine, aka Little Red Riding Hood, exiting the Gallery on top

We opted for the tunnel as it is faster and more direct and we had done it many times before – but never in a rush to make dinner. Up we went, each step inside the inky darkness gaining us a half meter. The lights from our headlamps passed over the many interior features; the soldiers living quarters, a water cistern, and many portholes in the tower’s side for dumping the stone and debris from the tunnel. Finally, we arrived at the top, exited the tunnel and like the Italian army in WWI, found not a soul about. But while the Austrian army made a rapid departure after catching wind of the impending arrival of the Italians and a potential large explosion, today’s summit inhabitants were gathered inside the Rifugio enjoying an aperitif.

After the Gallery there is an easy walk to the summit

Our own dash for the hut ended with the front door opening and Carolyn stepping out to greet us – promptly at 6:45. From the dank tunnel we suddenly found ourselves in a room full of cheer. Guido handed us towels for washing up, drinks arrived, and many friends gathered about. A fun feast was next, storytelling and a beautiful sunset making silhouettes of distant Dolomite towers. The evening became late, people wandered off to bed, we said good night, put our headlamps on and headed back to the tunnels.

The final steps to the top and the Lagazuoi Hut

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Travel in Italy’s Dolomites

A visit to the Heart of the Dolomites should certainly include a day or two exploring the Lagazuoi and Cinque Torri area. This is some of the most rugged and scenic terrain in all of the Dolomites and is accessed from any of the surrounding valley’s; Cortina d’Ampezzo (Passo Falzarego from the east), Alta Badia (Passo Valparola) or Arraba (Passo Falzarego from the west).

Rifugio Lagazuoi is accessed by trail on foot, via the tunnel described above, or by cable car (open seasonally). The common summer itinerary is cable car up, hike around the summit, lunch & nap on the Rifugio Lagazuoi’s famous deck with unrivaled views of the Dolomites, then a descent of the WWI tunnel. Headlamp required, helmet recommended.

Visit Rifugio Lagazuoi for complete information, pricing, and booking.

Also, the hut keeper, Guido, is a great photographer and thanks to the situation of the hut, gets incredible weather photos. Follow the Hut’s Rifugio Lagazuoi Facebook Page or on Twitter @rifugiolagazuoi

Guido Pompanin & Dan Patitucci inside the Rifugio Lagazuoi

Dan Patitucci training on the Sella Pass, Italian Dolomites

A couple of years back I had a realization. Riding a road bike was feeling as natural as breathing or eating. Since 1987 I have been training, racing and riding a bike for the pure joy of it – almost everyday. But it wasn’t just a comfort level I noticed, it was something more, the bike was literally a part of me, a part of my life.

2007 Maratona dles Dolomites. Buddha time

Then I read Malcom Gladwell’s book Outliers and discovered his 10,000 hour rule. He says that for any skill, at roughly 10,000 hours of dedication, one “masters” the art of what it is they are practicing. I went back to my pile of training logs, did some math, and sure enough, I was at 10,000 hours.

Now, years later, I still ride and think about this. Mastering cycling doesn’t mean being the fastest or best bike handler, it simply means the body knows how to be on a bike, knows how to make it move and knows how to respond to training stimuli.

But what about my head? As an aging athlete with a lifetime of sports behind me, I am beginning to think about all of this a bit more, to really understand my body, to understand its health and most of all, to understand what it is I am all about. On the bike I sit, often alone, for hours at a time. Pedaling is my discipline, it is also meditation. It is important to practice the discipline, but it is crucial to look inward when doing so.

Uphill, spinning, relaxed shoulders, relaxed seated posture, breathing; I call it my Buddha time. The mind is clear, not doubting, not thinking too much, letting everything go and just pedaling. The head clears, life is simple, a discipline allows this. I return to this quiet feeling in times of stress and it gives me strength. Like the Buddha beneath the Bodhi Tree, the Tree of Knowledge, we cyclists are on the path to our own enlightenment as we sit on the bike processing so many things.

Some sports let us do this, they give us time to think, or to not think if this is what is needed. My own are often solo, in the mountains, where I go to practice what I believe is ultimately best for me. I look back at my own writing and find consistency in what I share; reflections on life, whether it be while cycling, running or backcountry skiing.

I genuinely hope that you, while reading this, can replace each reference to myself, with your own “I’” and “My”. Maybe hitting 10,000 hours really only allows more clarity, or it allows the mind to be a bit more free. But no matter, as long as one is mindfully on the way is what seems most important.

“There are two mistakes one can make along the road to truth…not going all the way, and not starting.” …The Buddha

Stress Management, Pordoi Uphill Time Trial

We’d love to hear your thoughts, feel free to comment below with your own experiences. Thanks.

Huts vs. Camping

“But one doesn’t really camp in the Dolomites…”.

I knew further protest could jeopordize work for a favorite client, instead I listened, “But for the shoot we need camping, we want to see that kind of ski tour, no huts”.

The PatitucciPhoto workplace

“No huts?” The pain was lessened by the fact that the huts are actually closed this time of year so camping would not include any windblown scent of Penne all’Arrabbiata. “Ok, let’s do it.” But my next thought was, “With whom are we going to do it?” Italians don’t camp in their own mountains, and with snow on the ground, I had some work to do.

Enter Alberto De Giuli (aka BG, Bloody Gorgeous): BG, “Sure, when do we go?” Me, “Really!?” BG, “Ya, let’s do it, and I know the spot”. Me, “We need someone else, another guy.” …”My friend Andrea will join us”. This was too easy, something was wrong.

Enter Stress: The weather forecast for our shoot days went from sun, to snow. I considered canceling. Then, with 48 hours to go it turned to iffy.

Enter Volcano: Let’s not forget the eruption and a little change in the wind direction that put Europe under an ash fallout warning. More stress.

Enter Good Fortune: The morning we were to start was crystal clear and cold with ash free blue skies. As if made to order, 10cm of fresh snow covered the Dolomites. Our approach was track free, things were looking good. With the huts closed, less people were venturing into the mountains, our determination was going to pay off. A little piece of the Dolomites would be our own.

Smartwool Review

This is our third year shooting advertising for Smartwool. Early on the Marketing Boss saw Janine and I as photographers with whom he would like to build a relationship. Rather than hire us for a shoot to see how it went, he had the vision of building a relationship where together we developed a style for the brand. It wasn’t a one off, it was a multi-year commitment. For all involved it has been great.

Camping in the Dolomites

But, there is the case of my stubborn willingness to try wool. For this, I am teased and taunted. Janine is a long time fan while I have been committed to synthetics. Finally, this last December we received a size-able box of Smartwool goodies as a gift. I dug in, liked what I saw, and implemented wool into my wardrobe. I told Smartwool I would review the stuff, but that I would do it with an honest voice.

Briefly, I like it. A lot. And the fashion & function conscious Italians? “Bello”, was repeated over and over. But, the Gear Review will have to wait and be part 2 of this little tale.

Smartwool Consensus: Andrea & Alberto say "Thumbs Up"

Andrea Gabrielli skiing powder

Enter an Admission: NOT being in a hut was fantastic. It all came back to me, my roots, how it all started, that feeling of being out and not on any program. Melting snow, sleeping on ice, being cold, the wind, everything frozen… well ya, it does kind of suck. But this sort of experience tends to come with lots of laughter, the people make it, they always do. BG was, as always, brilliant fun. And his friend Andrea was equally as fun – all this made for a great time. For two days it was how it all started, Janine and I living in a tent, charging around the mountains, making photos of friends.

And with this realization came another; As much as I love using huts, they don’t belong everywhere. There is something about the freedom and that little added hardship which completes the mountain experience (but not all the time). California’s Sierra Nevada come to mind. I have been engaged in a friendly debate regarding this subject with several close friends back in my home mountains. I am throwing in the towel. While planning a month climbing in the Sierra later this year with Janine and Alberto, I am finding myself increasingly excited to get into the backcountry and on our own (BG, …more of the same minus the snow).

Pasta dinner - of course, it's Italy

Alpine start to make the summit for sunrise

Andrea and Alberto bootpacking the last bit to the summit

Sunrise made better with volcanic ash in the Dolomites

Andrea Gabrielli skiing in the Italian Dolomites

The line is obvious, a quick snap, commence turns.

My friend John Dittli just posted his thoughts on this same subject over at his Blog – it got me thinking, while I was out backcountry skiing alone today…

Why would you ski without a partner? I too am challenged with the same questions as John as I often venture out on my own program – isn’t it just so dangerous? For me, personally, I love skiing alone, just as I love to go trail run in the mountains by myself, train alone on my road bike, or climb an easy route solo. It is an entirely different experience to do these things alone.

The rewards are sky high while the risk, in my opinion, is fairly low. I feel good about skiing alone. Compared to being in a group it puts me more in tune with the environment, I think more about conditions and what the terrain is doing by being on high alert. I also do not push it. The entire “group thinking” factor is non-existent – and this is what I believe to be one of the most dangerous elements for backcountry skiers. Alone, I have backed off many a climb and opted to ski much safer lines in stellar looking bowls. These decisions do not come as a result of stopping to dig pits, study crystals or any other methodical thinking, it is just a sense based on experience and a little probing around. Will I ever get into trouble? Maybe, but I’ll take my chances. With 20 years skiing in the mountains, I feel I make good choices, probably even better ones when I am solo. Crossing my tips and hearing tearing sounds concerns me far more than avalanches or falls. This is part of the risk, I get it and so too does Janine.

For me, there are few greater feelings than being in the mountains on skis in the winter. And so to have the experience to myself, to choose my line, drop into what I want to drop into, feel acceleration and begin turning – is freedom. And at the end of the run… back in safer terrain, hearing the swishing sound the skis make, playing like a kid as I pass through the forest or the brush, making turns here and there, feels perfect.