St. Ulrich to Trieste, Day 5 - Rifugio Scotter-Palatini to Domegge di Cadore

Thursday June 25, Rifugio Scotter-Palatini to Domegge di Cadore

The fence behind Rifugio Scotter was erected a few years ago, after A a boulder tumbled down the mountain and hit the inn. 

Our route headed up the side of Antelao toward Forcella Piccolo dell'Antelao (2,120 m). Lots of wildflowers en route, including wild carnations.

The trail up soon became scree. 

Can you spot the hiker up ahead, coming down?

The trail was steep, and there were ample opportunities to slip, but this here acrophobe generally finds scree manageable if I just look at the trail immediately in front of me. I took this photo of S after I reached a spot with a few trees, which are stabilizing to stand next to and made it easier for me to look up.

This was a little before the pass, but the highest view we'd have of the Boite Valley and San Vito.

It was also where our route began to overlap with both the Alta Via 4 and Alta Via 5. 

Over the pass we went. We reminded ourselves to eat, so paused for an apple, water, and a protein bar. While we sat, a trio of backpack-less trail runners came jogging up after us, then headed down toward Rifugio Galassi. We were still finishing our apple when they came trotting back up and headed over the pass again toward Scotter. We felt very slow, but we were also carrying 18-lb backpacks, and we had a few decades on those young'uns. We later learned that the Lavaredo Ultra Trail races were taking place in the area June 24-28. 

From here, just 4,900' down to Domegge di Cadore.

Rifugio Galassai. We figured Ms. Namenlos had made it there, since we hadn't passed her on our way. Was she enough over jetlag to already be hiking, or was she sitting on the veranda eating breakfast? We didn't stop to find out.

Alta Via 4 and 5 head south behind the hut, both ending in Pieve di Cadore.

The trail heading down involved almost no scree; instead, it was bordered by scrub and trees, and was relatively easy going.

Only one section of trail appeared sketchy. Whatever alpine club was responsible for its maintenance was clearly aware of this, and had rigged up loose fiber ropes to provide a psychological security blanket. 

From then on, we had lots of greenery easing the way down. 

Fancypants cairn... 

Can you spot the red and white striped rifugio supply box heading down the mountain on the cable line? When we passed beneath the cable, we saw signs warning hikers not to linger. You never know when a cable might snap. 

As we descended into shadier trails, we ran into none other than Ms. Namenlos. I told her we were glad to find her alive and well. "Yes, yes!," she said cheerfully, "but you were right--I did have to use my headlamp last night! Really, I only used it to be polite--I wanted the people at the Rifugio to see that I was coming..." 

She had paused in the present spot because she wasn't sure which way to go. Her map pointed in the same direction as ours, but she had heard tell of a waterfall nearby and didn't want to miss it. We knew nothing of waterfalls, so we continued downhill without her. ("Don't slow down! Keep up the pace!," S kept urging from behind me.)

About two miles later, we found the waterfall. Cascata delle Pile was impossible to miss. We paused for another apple and some Amaretti.

From here, the remaining 7 miles downhill were on dry river beds, gravel, and paved roads. 

The painter Titian (Tiziano Vecellio, c. 1485–1576), was born in Pieve di Cadore, two towns down the freeway from Domegge, our destination for the night. Local mountains show up in his paintings. 

"Titian was inspired here"

Signage offered examples

Just before gravel trail ceded to paved road, we paused for Apfelschorle and Kuchen at the Ristorante Alla Pineta, with views of saw-toothy mountains in the distance. We didn't realize it then, but we'd be hiking across that range the very next day.

Wild strawberries...

I had routed us through Rizzios, a town known for its characteristic 16th-18th c. village architecture. The public fountain was a welcome sight. 

A final scenic stretch of trail ran from Rizzios down to Domegge before intersecting with a busy road.

Little Free Library with a view!

Once we hit the road, there was no safe way to cross it other than to walk west on a bridge across the river, cross the road, then walk back east on the bridge across the river. Domegge and its neighbor Calalzo di Cadore are both disappointingly car-centric, despite having been settled since at least the 5th century BCE.

Hot--did I mention it was hot?--and tired, we stopped at a gelato shop on our way to our hotel, and found this ad for a local race. If the Lavaredo Ultra Trail 10k, 20k, 50k, or 120k (!) is too much for you, perhaps the S. Giovanni 5k is a gentler option... 

...with just a little hill at the end.

After gelato, we checked in at our hotel, showered, and set off in search of groceries and dinner in neighboring Calalzo. 

Lest tourists think Calalzo is merely run-of-the-mill car-centric, one of the few stretches of actual sidewalk had giant sacks of concrete debris placed in the middle of it at short intervals for a good half mile. This genius move forces pedestrians to step into the road, possibly in front of oncoming cars, in order to pass each sack. This, plus the need to cross a river twice just to cross a road, earns Calalzo-Domegge our 2026 award for "Least Pedestrian-Friendly Town of the Alps."

Meanwhile, the award for Best Pizza of 2026 goes to the Casa Marrazzo yellow tomato pizza with fresh ricotta, confit yellow cherry tomatoes, and basil cream at Pizzeria el Gringo, located in Calalzo just beyond all those sacks of concrete.

Ta da! 12.6 of the day's 16 miles, 2,000' up, 4,900' down, a few thrills but 100% acrophobe approved. 

Rorschach to Lauterbrunnen - Day 15 - Kleine Scheidegg to Gündlischwand

Saturday July 12, Kleine Scheidegg to Lauterbrunnen to Gündlischwand

We went to bed on Friday knowing that while our sunset view had been somewhat obscured by clouds, the sky at sunrise was forecast to be completely cloudless.

Whence we came:  

Looking west at a setting just-past-full moon:

Wee clouds sprouting above the Eiger, Mönch, and Jungfrau. Given that the lenticular clouds over the Jungfrau always looked slightly behind the peak, we assumed the summit was actually out of view. The sunlit triangular peak top to the right is the Silberhorn.

Nebelmeerish over Grindelwald in the Lütschinenthal, more haze than cloud: 

Morning greetings from our shadows:

Zooming in on what we're pretty sure is the train station on the Jungfrau Joch (11,362 feet):

The Jungfrau Joch is a popular and heavily-advertised tourist destination  

Having been the only Friday night guests at Gletscherblick, we (and the black flies) were the only ones eating breakfast Saturday morning. I asked our host if we had somehow miscalculated the start of tourist season, and she said nah, the number of guests just fluctuates sometimes. Given the number of day hikers we had seen on Friday, we assume most of their business is through the Gasthaus restaurant.  

It was our last day of hiking, with ~4,900' to descend. The pass, Kleine Scheidegg, was a little below the Gasthaus. There's a hotel, and a bustling train station, with some cog trains heading between Grindelwald and Lauterbunnen, and others heading up to the Jungfrau Joch. We crossed the train tracks and started our descent. Once we were past the hubbub and buildings, Carly posed for a photo.

Our route more or less followed the cog-train route down to Lauterbrunnen.

Lenticular clouds were doing crazy things atop the Mönch. 

A slate roof made of naturally irregularly shaped tiles:

Felix Mendelssohn hiked here. The Mendelssohnweg takes hikers all the way down to Wengen, above Lauterbrunnen, but we followed the Lauberhornrennen route instead. Signage along the latter trail wrote of skiiers zipping down the mountain at speeds approaching 100km/hr. That sounds insane to me, but only one skiier, Gernot Reinstadler, has ever died on the route, during a qualifying run.

You can spend 1 hour and 20 minutes heading down to Wengen, or if you prefer to head away from Wengen, 1 hour and 50 minutes. 

At some point on the hike, it occurred to me that the only way The Little Engine That Could could have made it over the steep mountain was if it had been a cog train, something the book failed to depict.

1930 1st edition. No cogs. I feel misled.

After several miles, I thought I was getting a blister on one of my toes, despite my having stopped multiple times to tighten my shoelaces so my toes wouldn't slide forward as we hiked down. I finally sat down and took off my hiking boot, thinking I'd put on some moleskin. When I peeled off my sock, there was no blister, just a nice bloody cut caused by an adjacent toenail. This taught me (1) to be glad this happened on the last day instead of the first, and (2) to remember to trim nails, since 15 days is a long time. I put a band-aid over it and changed into sneakers, and my toes were happy for the rest of the hike.

iNaturalist couldn't identify these flowers.

Almost down: Wengen is situated about 1,500' above Lauterbrunnen.

Many of the chalets in Wengen have names. This one is named Ameise ("Ants"). 

At last, there it is, Lauterbrunnen. The famous waterfall to the right is the Staubbachfall, but if you look closely at the photo, you might see a few more; there are some 72 waterfalls in the Lauterbrunnental.

We had time to either explore Lauterbrunnen or to head further down the valley. Given the density of tourists, we decided to swing by a grocery store for snacks, then followed the Weisse Lütschine river for another three miles to Gündlischwand, the next stop on the train line. We knew we had arrived when a sign told us so. We hopped on a train--the first of five that day--to start our 7-hour trip home.

Here we are!

Ta da! 9.6 miles, 85' ascent, 4,956' descent.