I sink into the snow up to my knees, following in the mountain guide’s footsteps. He leads us through the snow-covered Rosengarten massif. I never imagined it would feel so wintry already. This was supposed to be an autumn hike with spectacular views. Instead, we’re making our way through a winter wonderland. It instantly adds a little extra sense of adventure.
Uphill under the October sun
The golden October sun bathes the mountains in warm light. We set off above Vigo di Fassa, at the cable car station by the Campedie hut. Towering mountains rise up before us, and we head straight towards them. As we climb beneath a brilliant blue sky, I roll up the sleeves of my long-sleeved shirt.
But this is no warm summer day. We realise that after gaining just a little more elevation, when the first snow crunches beneath our feet. I savour those first steps through the sparkling white snow. I love the changing of the seasons.
A short detour to the Vajolettürme
And so I walk steadily uphill, gaining elevation with every step. I keep having to tilt my head right back to marvel at the landscape. Rock walls tower all around me. It’s always wonderful to be among the magnificent peaks of the Dolomites. And I suddenly feel very small as I climb beneath the imposing east face of the Rosengartenspitze.
To venture deeper into the Rosengarten, we take a short detour to the Vajolettürme. The finger-like rock formations can be reached from the Vajolet hut in just under 40 minutes via a trail secured with steel cables. Winter has already made itself felt there, too. At times, making progress isn’t easy. Our feet have to feel for a foothold beneath the soft layer of snow, and they keep finding loose stones or hidden holes.
Right in the heart of it
Even so, the climb isn’t difficult, and the reward for the extra elevation comes immediately. A sensational view awaits us. I’m standing in the basin where, according to legend, King Laurin’s rose garden was laid out. Behind me rises the legendary Laurinswand, named after the fabled ruler, while the slender Vajolettürme stand before me. A climber’s paradise.
I take a few minutes on the terrace of the Gartlhütte to marvel at it all and take in everything I’ve seen. The break isn’t long, but it’s enough to witness the weather change in a flash. Clouds roll in at tremendous speed, driven by a chilly north wind. More and more emerge from behind the mountain peaks, growing thicker almost by the second. The sun doesn’t stand a chance.
Only a few minutes have passed, but without the sun’s warmth, I’m shivering. In an instant, autumn has turned into winter.
The magic of the first snow
And as if that weren’t enough, the first snowflakes soon join the icy wind. Even though I’ve barely warmed up yet, I have to stop for a moment to watch the flakes dance. The first snow of the year always brings a certain magic with it, a spell I can’t resist.
But I can’t linger too long, because a fresh gust chills me to the bone. Besides, the hike onward to the Antermoia Pass is getting more strenuous with every step. The snow now reaches my ankles. I lift my feet higher than usual and trudge forward, one step at a time.
A slippery descent
I’m grateful when we finally reach the pass. There’s supposed to be a beautiful view from here. But today, I’m surrounded by fog. The mountain guide gives us an encouraging nod anyway. From this point on, it’s all downhill. All downhill. That sounds so easy.
In truth, the route towards the hut is more like a slippery slide. There’s no sign of a trail anymore. And although the mountain guide trudges ahead and I try to follow his tracks, I keep sinking in up to my knees. In places, the snow even reaches my hips. Once or twice I stumble and lose my balance. But the soft powder beneath our feet cushions my falls onto my backside.
A moderate autumn hike turns into an expedition
None of that would be so bad if a little snow didn’t also get into my boots with every step. My trouser legs have little hooks that attach to my hiking boot laces, but some moisture still manages to find its way inside. Before long, my feet are ice cold. Between the deep snow, the icy wind and the poor visibility, I briefly feel as though I’m on an expedition across the eternal ice of the polar regions.
After several more minutes of walking, the smell of a wood fire hangs in the air. The hut can’t be far away now. I can hardly wait to slip out of my damp clothes and press my feet, in fresh socks, against the hot tiles of the stove.
The joy of the mountains
After a peaceful night at the Antermoia hut, I wake up refreshed. My energy is back. So is the sun. Millions of ice crystals sparkle in the light of the rising sun. The sky glows with the most beautiful colours of dawn, and little clouds drift around the mountain peaks, which still wear the blue of night. It’s magical. A scene straight out of a picture book.
And these are exactly the images that stay with me. These are the moments that make every hardship worthwhile. For this, I’ll walk metres through the freezing cold. Because these are the moments that fill me with happiness and gratitude. I live on a beautiful planet with beautiful mountains and valleys. And I’m glad to live in a region where we have seasons. The magic of winter fills me with just as much wonder as the splendour of autumn.
Summer or winter lover?
What do you think: summer or winter? 🌴❄️☀️
Or are you just as happy that we get to experience all the seasons?
Also of interest:
> Winter, why are you so cold?
> Why my heart belongs to winter
> Hut-to-hut hiking packing list: What to pack in your backpack