The Italian Dolomites are filled with both the most stunning mountain scenery in the world and the remnants of man’s unending willingness to struggle violently against other men.

The wheel of fate had brought us to Italy and we always intended to experience it in all of its full-throttled glory.  Roman ruins, Renaissance cities, fast cars, faster mopeds, and succulent pasta dishes washed down with endless bottles of red wine are the hallmark of this overwhelmingly immersive country. 

Of course, for those drawn to the vertical world of mountains, there are also other attractions.  The pink hued Dolomite mountains are some of the most stunning in the world.  This chain branches off from the greater Alps; but due to the mysteries of geology, it is only in eastern Italy that this mountain range becomes a series of iconic imposing colorful rock faces.  The French Climbing Guide Gaston Rebuffat said of the Dolomites, “one ray of sunshine is enough to give them life, the effect…make them shimmer, take on color and charm for all their verticality.” Their beauty defies description.

But man covets that which is beautiful and tribes fight other tribes for reasons of fear, greed, and honor, as Thucydides so memorably put it thousands of years ago.  The Dolomites has been an arena of violent competition as long as there have been humans.  The prehistoric mummy “Iceman Otzi” discovered in the glaciers of northern Italy bears wounds inflicted by other humans.  Scientists believe he died, not by wild animals or natural causes, but by an arrow shot at him.  Otzi was only the first recorded casualty of conflict. For millennia warriors and armies of increasing fame and infamy passed through these mountains.  It seems like every valley of this mountainous region is watched over by an imposing castle meant to block the advance of rival forces.

More by happenstance  than by a plan, we have sought to experience the great mountains around us.  Although the Veneto region has been made immortal by the great trading city of Venice, it is also the gateway to the high country.  In a series of day trips, we have taken our small girls up to walk among this wonderland.  Sometimes, Lisa and I have escaped to try our hand at harder physical endeavors.  Time and again, in our travels, we have discovered the remnants of war.

Amidst the larger First World War, a hundred and five years ago, on 23 May 1915, Italy declared war on the Austro-Hungarian Empire.  The Italian or Alpine front was a series of battles between Italy and the Austro-Hungarian Empire, that quickly devolved into a struggle of attrition among the peaks of the region.  The tyranny of altitude, cold, and logistics imposed its own logic on the geopolitical desires of the Italian leadership who hoped to recover territory they believed rightfully theirs.  

With another family, we hiked to the incredible Tre Cime or three Peaks.  British travelers in the nineteenth century described the peaks as “Egyptian Colossi.”  The otherworldly allure of these mountains has drawn Hollywood to use it as the location of an Ice planet in the Star Wars’ films.  After hustling small children into backpacks, we began following our friends’ fearless dog in the imposing shadows of the great peaks. 

We slipped and struggled through spring snow before coming to a pass that opened up to a panorama of rock and ice.  The children played in the snow, seemingly unaffected by the altitude or the climb that had brought us to that location.  Above us, incongruities in the rock on Mount Paterno attracted our eyes.  We climbed up to find hewn into the rock fighting positions where soldiers could observe the valley below us. 

Immediately after the declaration of war, Italian forces were meant to seize the high ground from their unprepared and surprised opponents.  However, the inevitable friction of war delayed the offensive giving the Austrians time to prepare their defenses.  Repeated assaults in the area and on the nearby Monte Piana led to an estimated 14,000 casualties.

An Austrian captain wrote at the time, “the Italians have justly baptised this mountain ‘Mount Pianto’ [Mountain of Tears].  It has already cost our side and the Italians so much blood and will cost even more, that I do not know if its possession can justify such a great sacrifice……In any case that’s not my concern; my task is to obey.”

Peering through the Italian machine gun firing positions, which they had seized on Mount Paterno, we could see an uninterrupted view on the low ground below.  It was their forward most outpost and from it they made it a killing field for the Austrians. 

We hiked back down from the high ground.  While our children played; the adults shared a celebratory bottle of prosecco.  We felt like the encircling rock cathedrals were for us alone.

Amidst our adventures, it slowly dawned on us that ironically, war had created architectural wonders which allowed adventurers, many years later, to reach deep into the wild and appreciate nature’s greatness.

Lisa and I had procured a babysitter, and early one morning we drove out to hike one such man made wonder in the wilderness; the 52 tunnels of Mount Pasubio.  On a clear day, Pasubio’s limestone ridge line dominates the lowlands around Vicenza, where we live.  It’s high ground used to mark the border between Austria Hungary and Italy; thus its strategic importance in the First World War.

All through 1915, the Italians slowly and painfully occupied the mountain range.  However, on 15 May 1916 a surprise Austrian offensive almost swept the Italians completely off Pasubio; the last defensible terrain before the Veneto plains.  Almost.  The Italians remained on the rocky summit and the ensuing battle became what one Austrian veteran described as the “witches’ cauldron.”

In order to sustain their forward positions, the Italians built a series of tunnels through the mountain which allowed them to travel unmolested by Austrian Artillery.  The resulting incredible 52 tunnels cut through rock can still be explored today.

Lisa and I brought our headlamps and hiked 9 miles along the path so laboriously built over a hundred years before.  Sometimes we would scramble through wet tunnels with no natural light that cork screwed in the heart of the mountain only to pop out into the gorgeous sunny day with endless views of the terrain below us.  The path was littered with the mementos that soldiers always place to mark an achievement and ensure their sacrifices are not forgotten.

In a similar but more manageable walk with our children, we hiked Mount Cegnio on Father’s Day.  It was here that the Sardinia Grenadier Brigade entered history with their heroic defense of the Asiago plateau. Our eldest daughter Marie found a rusty piece of metal in one of the tunnels, which she was convinced came from the era of those battles. 

Throughout the Dolomites, both sides had to wrestle with how to maneuver through the imposing mountains.  In order to aid the movement of troops amidst the vertical rock faces, a series of ladders, bridges, and cables were installed and are known as Via Ferrata or the “Iron Road.”  Their existence from World War One, has created an entire sub genre in climbing.  Naturally, Lisa and I had to try our hands at the sport.

Via Ferrata is addictive.  Hanging off cables hundreds, if not thousands, of feet above the ground below, one feels a tremendous thrill.  It was taxing enough for us in our ultralight clothing and modern climbing equipment. It was hard to imagine soldiers trudging up the same impossibly steep terrain with hobnailed boots, wearing woolen uniforms, and carrying their weapons, ammunition, and food.  They must have always been fearful of being observed by their enemies in the exposed terrain.

With a group of friends, we tried our hands at what is considered one of the finest Via Ferrata routes in the Dolomites.  This route, known as the Bolver Luigi, rises straight up the iconic Pale Dolomite Rock around the old world mountain town of San Martino di Castrozza.

We would catch glimpses of the beauty amidst the swirling clouds before being swallowed by them.  The day became an epic with pounding hailstones, a thrilling glissade down the snowy backside, and a lightning storm.  10 miles and 7 hours later, after reaching an altitude of 10,000 feet, we hobbled back into town with a greater appreciation of those who had built the route in the first place, long before.

The mountains are neutral and impassive to human ambitions; whether they be the objectives of climbers or states.  Time has washed away the reasons of fear, greed, and honor which had led men to fight among the beautiful Dolomite mountains.  Only the relics of war remained.