A place of incredible beauty was once the site of unspeakable suffering.

There was no light. Tiny hands and feet crawled into our bed long before the breaking of dawn.  Our children had navigated the tight hallway of our postage sized hideaway to snuggle. Outside the snow piled up across the one window of our room.  Inside we burrowed under our blankets to stay warm.

We were deep in the Dolomite mountains.  Beauty is, of course, in the eye of the beholder.  But in my eyes, the Dolomites are probably the most beautiful mountains in the world. Jagged pink hued rock faces outline picturesque Alpine villages in pocket valleys.

Of course, we couldn’t see any of this after we were woken up by our children.  It was pitch dark outside, the mountains invisible. We layered on long underwear and sweaters before beginning to boil water for the elixir of life, espresso out of an old mocka machine.  

We had come to the Val di Fassa to ski an iconic route, the Sellaronda.  With a single Ski pass, the Dolomiti Superski, you can ski more than a thousand kilometers of piste across multiple valleys throughout the Dolomites.  It is said to be the world’s biggest ski area. Amidst this wonderland of downhill skiing, the most legendary tour is that of the Sellaronda, or circumnavigation of the Sella mountain range.   A web of different ski resorts surround the imposing craggy Sella chain. If you time it right, you can connect those different resorts by cable car and chair lift and your skis to do the entire route in a day.   

Each valley has its own unique culture and in some cases its own language.  For although today we would remain in Italy, it wasn’t always so. Before the First World War, this beautiful land had been divided between the Austro-Hungarian Empire and the nascent state of Italy.

When Europe descended into the cataclysm of World War One, Italy sensed an opportunity to correct what it saw as past injustices; that some Italian speaking communities remained under the dominion of their old nemesis, the Austro-Hungarian Empire.  After the rest of Europe had already been at war for a year, slaughtering each other on both the Western and Eastern Fronts, Italy declared war on Austro-Hungary.

Unsurprisingly, the dreams of politicians and generals crashed against the reality of geography in this new front.  Each side raced each other to gain a positional advantage from the highest terrain in the Dolomites. Then the altitude, the weather, the sheer imposing nature of the terrain led to bloody incremental warfare in brutal conditions.

That time had long passed when my wife Lisa and I decided to come to this skiing mecca and try our own hands at the Sellaronda.  After breakfast, we dropped the little ones off at a welcoming kindergarten, and struggled to get our feet into cold ski boots. Then a gondola shot us high into the sky.

After clipping into our skis, we raced down one slope after another, never repeating a run.  The conditions were perfect; bluebird skies, good snow, and brisk wind biting our exposed skin.  We struck up a conversation with guide on a chairlift who told us, if we were fast enough, we could also link the Marmolada to our route.

The Marmolada is the highest mountain in the Dolomites at over 10,000 feet.  A glacier covers it summit in snow year round. Thanks to the marvels of modern engineering and the sacrifices of soldiers over a century ago, we now could reach its highest plateau with a cable car.

Over half way up the Marmolada there is the self-proclaimed highest museum of the world that tells the story of the men who fought over this beautiful place. Mountaineering skills were as important as military ones in this fight. 

Although the mountain had first been climbed in 1864, the first ascent of its dangerous south face had only occurred in 1901.  Only a few years later, whole units of men would find themselves living, fighting, and dying there. Austro-Hungarian soldiers built tunnels in the glacier on the north face.  While the Italians clung precariously to their outposts on the exposed south face. Even today, as the glacier recedes in summer it releases the remnants of the men who fought there.

We stepped out of the cable car and stood in awe of the view from the top of countless mountaintops stretched to the horizon.  Then began the greatest run of the day. For over twelve kilometers we linked one ski turn after another, reaching speeds of 68 miles per hour.

After another series of lifts and beautiful views, we entered the Alta Badia.  In between the German speaking Sud-Tyrol and the Italian Veneto lies a valley with an ancient people who speak their own language, Ladin.  Linguists say it is a mix of the celtic of ancient inhabitants and the latin of Roman legionnaires who used to garrison the area. Whatever its origin, this is where we chose to have lunch.  In the afternoon sun, we filled ourselves with a fusion of pasta and german style pancakes as well as wine and beer washed down with espresso.

Wobbly, we returned to skis and continued the route.  Increasingly worried that we wouldn’t make it to our children in time, we lost our bearing and found ourselves skiing the World Cup race route on the Saslong slope. 

Finally, as the light began to fail, our epic day came to an end.  After 30 miles of skiing and 30,000 feet of vertical descent, our Sellaronda tour was over.  My knees and legs ached as I stumbled in my ski boots to our children. Lisa, unsurprisingly, remained unfazed. 

We bundled our children up and drove back to our small hideaway.  After much laughter, stories, imaginative children’s drawings and red wine- we all returned to our beds.  Long ago, soldiers had battled each other over possession of this beautiful place. We fell asleep, in the dark, content in having experienced them.

Roland Minez is a co-founder of Pushing Horizons.

Disclaimer: All views expressed are that of the author. As an REI Associate, Pushing Horizons earns from qualifying purchases.