The “High Granite Way” is east of Trento in the Italian Alps, 26 miles of 7000’+ of elevation gain in four days, with three nights in dormitory-style huts. In September 2023, Kirk and I attempted to do this trek, but I broke my ankle on the first day of hiking. (Read all about that here.) I was determined to beat that mountain (those mountains, actually) and after recovering, worked for a year to get back in shape. Somehow, I convinced my husband to go again, and our son and his wife, Jon and Stacey came along, too. We booked plane tickets and made hut reservations in late winter as a financial commitment to make it happen.

After 7 weeks in a walking cast, I was assigned to a physiotherapist who worked me hard. I took to heart the exercises she gave me, continued to practice them at home several times per week, added some strength training, and scheduled many hikes in NC for myself.

A few other things I buttoned up: I took the warning of an old man we met on the trail last year (before I got hurt) who scolded us for hiking in trail shoes, and not boots. “Non sono buoni,” he said, “those aren’t good” for this trail. I got some good boots and broke them in. I asked for a small frame pack for Christmas. Started amassing wool shirts and underwear. And made sure my water bladder was full and not leaking. I truly felt ready for this hike, much moreso than last year.

And it was great. I loved having Jon and Stacey with us. They were fun, energetic and gave me all the gold stars I wanted. We shared such great conversation and funny stories. We stopped to memorialize the very spot I rolled my ankle; I left a small rock from NC there and we snapped some photos. The first day was still a pretty difficult hike, and I thanked God for giving me the strength take every step, especially last year. Kirk wants me to get the trail marker tattooed on my ankle. The same folks were working at the first rifugio, Caldenave, and it was a sweet little reunion of sorts. No shower mishaps this time either.

The second day was a much easier day, though still some steep incline, lots of heavy breathing, peaceful surroundings, and wild blueberries and raspberries all along the trail. We arrived at the second rifugio, Conseria at 2 pm and spent a long, leisurely afternoon in sun chairs, petting the horses and ponies on site, and watching an epic alpine thunderstorm roll in, complete with a double rainbow at the end.

The third day proved to be just as challenging as the first. Our hiking app, Komoot said, “Includes a segment that may be dangerous, 31 feet in total. A part of this route comprises technical, difficult, or hazardous terrain. Specialist equipment and prior experience may be required.” It seemed like there were at least 5 of these 31’ spots! I’m not sure how we missed this detail. One area in particular came about 3/4 of the way through, when we were especially tired - a very steep incline on bare rock face that we “Neanderthal-crawled” up, praying our packs didn’t pull us backward. A cable would have been very useful. There are parts of this chain of mountains (Lagorai) that still have iron handholds and steel cables, barbed wire, steps hewn from rock and caves leftover from World War I, where the Italian Alpini fought the Austrians. We marveled at how they could have hauled weapons, ammunition, and cannons up these slopes, sometimes in severe winter conditions, in 1916-era gear.

When we crested the final pass, we could see the beautiful Lago Cima d'Asta at the foot of its 500’ cliff face, with our Rifugio Brentari in the distance. We knew the lake would be cold, but Jon stripped down to his undies and got in, shortly followed by Stacey and me. Kirk was happy behind the lens. It was icy, literally (we found out later that it remains a constant 37.4º) but we all mustered the courage to submerge. Our screams and groans echoed off the cliff face. It was thrilling.

Another thunderstorm rolled over our hut that night, but we woke up to yet another perfect hiking day. Each day had started out in the mid-50ºs and ended around 70º with clear skies. Rain would have made large portions of this hike quite dangerous. Our last day was entirely downhill, over 3000’ of rock faces, stony paths, waterfalls, streams, then forest, meadows and at last, our starting point, Malga Sorgazza. It was a Saturday and we passed hundreds of Italians taking a day-hike up to Rifugio Brentari, and possibly beyond to summit Cima d’Asta. Amazing; what an exhausting day that would be! But this day was the highlight for Kirk because he got to talk to so many people. He becomes a complete extrovert when he gets to speak Italian. We laughed at the idea of all those people talking at lunch, “did you meet that American guy? So chatty.”

We arrived at the Sorgazza parking lot around noon and enjoyed cappuccinos, cold beer, and strudel. Knees sore, hearts full. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt such a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment. It’s up there with childbirth.

As I reflect on this, I can’t believe how determined I was - where was this coming from?? I think a big part of it is that I want to have the power to define this decade of my life. I don’t want to coast through my sixties sedentary, watching my health decline, and not being able to be active with my tribe of grandchildren. I’ve seen too many others go down this path and it is not my style. So I will probably continue to find new challenges. My husband did ask me if my “itch had been scratched” and I assured him that I was done with intense hiking like that. But we also talked about other “bucket list” items…

Here’s to more adventures!