Today marked my final day in Cortina d’Ampezzo. The town was crowded with cars, many of them parked along the streets. To avoid any risk of a parking violation, I left my car in a designated parking area and headed for the cable car station. There seemed to be two major stations, and I chose the one leading up to Mount Faloria. As it is a small town, I simply walked along the main street, Corso Italia, and with the help of Google Maps, I reached the station in no time. After a transfer along the way, the cable car took me straight up to the terminal station. Below me, the town of Cortina appeared small, and beyond it I could clearly see the surrounding rock massifs—the Tofane to the west and the Cristallo group to the northeast.
The range extending from Mount Faloria is known as the Sorapis group, and a trail seemed to continue far beyond the ski area. This ski resort is also scheduled to be one of the venues for the 2026 Winter Olympics, and I noticed some courses marked with Olympic symbols. Italy has hosted the Winter Olympics twice before—in Cortina in 1956 and in Turin in 2006—making this the third time. At the 1956 Cortina Games, Chiharu Igaya won a silver medal in alpine skiing, which remains the only Olympic medal Japan has ever achieved in that discipline.
From the cable car terminal, I climbed along a path beside the ski slopes. There was also a road for four-wheel-drive vehicles, and I followed both that and smaller trails within the slopes as I made my way upward. At the top of the lift stood a mountain hut, and from the open summit area above it, I was rewarded with a sweeping panorama of the surrounding mountains and the town below. After taking in the view, I slowly retraced my steps. The ski slopes, now turned into meadows, were covered with delicate wildflowers. Though not striking from a distance, they revealed a surprising variety of colors up close and were quite beautiful.
Back at the station, I found a panoramic display of the surrounding peaks, and in the distance I could even see Marmolada. Although I was unable to approach it closely on this trip, I found myself wishing to do so someday. My particular attachment to peaks such as Marmolada and Civetta may well stem from memories of climbing accounts by Riccardo Cassin and Hermann Buhl.
Returning to the town, I strolled along Corso Italia and took a short break with some gelato. However, one concern weighed on my mind—fuel for the car. Considering the journey ahead, I needed to refuel here. I located two stations on Google Maps, but both were self-service and unattended. I found it too difficult to operate the machines on my own, so I returned to the hotel and asked about a staffed station nearby. Unfortunately, I was told that such stations were scarce in Cortina. Although I was given instructions on how to use the machines, the default Italian interface discouraged me from trying.
When I went back to one of the stations, I found that an attendant had returned. At first, I could not understand what he was saying, and he seemed somewhat annoyed. But when I offered him two euros and asked for help, it did the trick—he filled the tank for me. What a relief. The effort of refueling alone left me exhausted, and I no longer had the energy for sightseeing. All I wanted was to return to the hotel and rest. By then, I had become accustomed to the winding mountain roads, and I even enjoyed driving them, shifting down through the curves. Before I knew it, I was back at the hotel.
That evening, I prepared a hand-drawn route map for the return to Bolzano and readied myself for highway driving. The next morning, I set off right after breakfast, passing through Misurina and heading toward Dobbiaco. The early hour meant little traffic, and the road through the forest was a pleasure to drive. I stopped briefly by a lakeside along the way. Even on ordinary roads, the sense of speed was considerable, and I found it rather tense driving at under 100 km/h. As the route made a wide detour toward northern Tyrol, the signs appeared in German, and the townscapes began to take on a distinctly Germanic atmosphere.
I felt nervous at the entrances and exits of the highway, and even in Bolzano I once again relied on a two-euro tip to get help with refueling. Nevertheless, I was able to return the rental car safely. From there, all that remained was to continue on to Venice.
With this, my Alpine travelogue comes to an end. As a final note, I would like to conclude by adding a few photographs of the cathedral in Bolzano and scenes from Venice, which I visited at the end of my journey.
English version prepared with AI assistance
(Originally written in Japanese)
Japanese version:
https://hifuka-otibohiroi.net/アルプス紀行（５）/
From the cable car terminal on Mount Faloria, the town of Cortina appeared far below, like a scattering of matchboxes.
On the ski slopes, small and delicate wildflowers were in bloom—hardly noticeable from a distance, yet beautifully varied in color up close.
There was a panoramic display indicating that Marmolada, the highest peak in the Dolomites, could be seen in the distance, though I could not clearly make it out.
Early the next morning, I passed through Misurina and headed toward Dobbiaco along a quiet road lined with forests and lakes. Gradually, the atmosphere of Tyrol emerged—German signboards became more common, and the houses took on a distinctly German-Austrian character. Though I would have liked to linger, I had no time to stop, and after joining the highway along a northern route, I continued straight on toward Bolzano.