Bolzano was a very small town. Yet it was also the central city of the region, an old South Tyrolean town that still preserved the rich traces of its long cultural history. Situated at the western end of the Dolomite Road, it also marked the western starting point of the beautiful route that stretches eastward to Cortina d’Ampezzo.
The day after my arrival, I took the ropeway up to Soprabolzano. In one swift ascent of nearly 1,000 meters, I reached the plateau village of Renon, a small settlement from which the historic Renon Railway has been running for more than a century. One might compare it to Japan’s Kominato Railway in atmosphere. It was apparently built by the former Austro-Hungarian emperors as transportation to their summer residence. The little train moved slowly through forests and meadows. From the terminus at Collalbo, I walked for nearly an hour along the road to the Piramidi di Terra. There I saw a group of strange, comb-shaped earth pyramids formed over many years by erosion.
Returning to the station, I then took a bus to even higher ground. Another ropeway brought me to the foot of Mount Renon. The chairlift to the summit of Rittner Horn was closed for the summer, but families were strolling here and there across the broad alpine meadows on the mountainside. Sitting on a bench along the way, I enjoyed the pleasant breeze and distant views of the Dolomite peaks, including Marmolada and perhaps Sassolungo.
On one of the ropeways, I happened to share a cabin with a couple from Lebanon who were visiting Paris. We chatted casually, and after parting I ordered a beer at a café restaurant. Soon enough, the same two appeared there as well. After resting for a while, I went to a scenic viewpoint on the trail—and there they were again. “What a coincidence, meeting three times!” I said. “Didn’t you have lunch?” It seemed that the pork dishes on offer were unsuitable for them. They explained that both pork and alcohol were forbidden.
“You’ve never tried alcohol?” I asked. “It can make life richer and more enjoyable.” But they politely declined. Half-jokingly, I said, “Surely a little wouldn’t matter?” At that, the woman replied firmly, “God is always watching.” I was humbled by her conviction.
They told me they had a Japanese female friend, but she was thinking of returning to Japan. Apparently, living and working in Paris with only English and no French was quite difficult. Avoiding more delicate topics such as politics or world affairs, we spoke instead about the Olympics before parting ways. Having spent many days without much conversation, I found the chance encounter with strangers unexpectedly refreshing.
The following day, I headed for the village of Siusi on the opposite side of the valley. According to my guidebook, there was a hiking route from Siusi to Ortisei, and I had imagined flower-filled landscapes and magnificent scenery. But there were many possible routes, and Kastelruth along the way also sounded appealing. Trying to do too much at once was my mistake. Thinking vaguely that I had plenty of time and might somehow reach Siusi from the upper station, I boarded a lift.
It was indeed a lovely place, with fine views over the town below, and families enjoying their holiday in the sun. Yet it soon became clear that walking from there to Siusi would take far too long, so I descended again. To make matters worse, I dropped my guidebook from the lift, and only then realized that the buses onward to Alpe di Siusi were infrequent and inconvenient. My usual habit of careless improvisation had once again betrayed me.
When I reached the ropeway station and said I wanted to go from Siusi to Ortisei, I was told, “It’s a long way—it’s too late.” So I ended up turning back once more. From Compatsch, the upper terminal, I climbed gently across the rolling meadows for as long as time allowed. The open grasslands stretched endlessly, and from below came the soft sound of cowbells. It was a delightful walk.
I had been told to return by five o’clock, so I hurried back. Then light rain began to fall. But once I boarded the descending ropeway, a violent downpour broke out with thunder. The thought of what might have happened had I continued walking sent a chill through me. Since the day had begun so fine, I had left both umbrella and rain gear at the inn. By the time I reached the bottom, the sudden storm had already passed.
All’s well that ends well, but it was a day that left me with much to reflect upon. Back in town, I relaxed at an open-air restaurant in Piazza Walther. Tomorrow, I would finally set out for Cortina d’Ampezzo.
This journey would continue along the beautiful Dolomites Road toward Cottina d’Ampezzo.
(To be continued)
English version prepared with AI assistance
(Originally written in Japanese)
Earth Pyramids near Collalbo, Renon
View from the Renon Plateau toward the Dolomites
Alpe di Siusi under changing weather
Japanese version: