The Alpine Way: A Journey on Foot

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I'm a mountain person, and mountain folk, as they say, enjoy walking up and down the peaks, reaching a summit, crossing valleys or simply wandering through the forest.

Walking with a backpack on my shoulders, carrying only the essentials, is done for pleasure, for the spirit of adventure, to seek connection with nature, out of passion, and perhaps to experience that sense of freedom we're all searching for.

Over the past few months I've prepared myself, physically and emotionally, to take on what's known as the Via Alpina, which consists of a series of routes that traverse the entire Alpine arc, from Trieste to the Principality of Monaco, passing through Slovenia, Austria, Germany, Liechtenstein, Switzerland, France and of course Italy.

I set out from Castelmonte, in Friuli where I live, which is part of the yellow route ( http://www.via-alpina.org/ ), and after 22 days of walking I finally arrived at Forni di Sopra, my hometown, located in the Friuli Dolomites Park.

So far, the Via has been nothing short of spectacular. I've walked on every type of terrain: forests, valleys, summits, hillsides, ridges, dirt tracks and paved paths, in sunshine, in rain and amongst the clouds. I rise at dawn and go to sleep at sunset—a habit that takes me back in time and gives me a feeling of being close to the animal world. Usually I move from hut to hut, covering roughly 25 km a day, depending on the terrain type and elevation gain.

For the first 12 days, the route I followed took me across the entire north of Slovenia, a territory dense with forests, surrounded by beautiful mountains and dotted with numerous lakes and rivers. For the remaining 10 days, I tackled what's known as the Carnic Traverse: a route that winds along the peaks and ridges that form the border between Austria and Italy, walking trails and mountain paths that were the scene of battles and events of major historical and cultural significance during World War I and World War II.

I had the chance to stay at Rifugio Volaia, which sits in a fantastic position at 2,000 metres altitude overlooking a stunning mountain lake. The lake marks the border between Austria and Italy, and looking out the window I could clearly see the Lambertenghi-Romanin Hut standing on the Italian shore.

What struck me most was that the trenches and bunkers used during World War I for territorial conquest and defence are still clearly visible. On one side of the lake were the Austrian fortifications, and on the other side, less than 100 metres away as the crow flies, were the Italian ones.

It's absurd to think of battles fought up here, between people who the day before shared the same spaces and lived in neighbouring villages that suddenly became enemies. And it saddens me to think that places of unique beauty were sites of battles and warfare and resulted in the loss of human lives.

Yet at the same time, I'm fascinated by being in places like this—locations that marked history and that, when you think about it, helped build and shape the world and the countries we live in today.

During my walk, I had the pleasure of meeting people of every nationality and character, exchanging stories of life experiences and adventures. The conversation always seemed to return to the question of whether to walk or not when the weather isn't ideal.

As for me, during the Slovenia crossing I encountered plenty of rain—not a single day stayed dry. As long as it's rain, I believe there's no problem; it's part of the game and part of nature. Walking in the rain through a forest has its own charm.

Obviously, if you're in high mountains, things are different; never venture onto exposed, rocky or dangerous routes during a thunderstorm. I was fortunate because when I needed good weather, once I reached the high mountains, the sun always stayed with me.

The last 10 days were absolutely fantastic. I crossed high mountains with views and panoramas that took your breath away. Luminous sunrises and sunsets in an almost surreal red.

Many ask me the reasons why I undertake such demanding and lengthy adventures. The answer I feel compelled to give is much simpler than it might seem: I feel free and at peace when I'm exactly where I want to be and doing precisely what I love and am passionate about.

Moreover, walking and living in contact with nature brings a sense of wellbeing and spiritual contentment that's hard to achieve in any other way. After all, I don't walk the entire Via in a single day—I have the fortune and opportunity to experience things with slowness, a pleasure that perhaps most of us have forgotten.

Day after day, kilometre after kilometre.

See you again at the end of July with a new travel story from the Via Alpina.

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