*Our unexpected day hiking in the Dolomites, Italy*

There are places you visit because they’re beautiful. And then there are places that completely rearrange your sense of scale. The Val Gardena region of the Dolomites was that kind of place for us. After weeks of coastal towns and lakeside views, we traded water for peaks — and stepped into a landscape that felt almost exaggerated in its beauty. Jagged limestone spires. Electric green meadows. Tiny wooden huts perched perfectly against vast alpine backdrops. What we found in the Dolomites wasn’t just scenery — it was perspective. It was slower mornings, accidental adventures, mountain reunions, and the reminder that sometimes the best days are the ones you don’t over-plan.

*The incredible view from our airbnb windows and deck!*

Val Gardena: Finding Our Way in the Dolomites

From Lake Garda, we boarded a train heading straight north to Bolzano—and honestly, the journey itself felt like part of the destination. Vineyards gave way to steeper valleys, and the mountains slowly began to close in around us. In Bolzano, we transferred to a bus that carried us deeper into the Dolomites, winding our way to the charming town of Ortisei.

Ortisei immediately felt like the perfect home base. That said, getting there made for a long travel day—especially for the kids. Travel days are rarely their favorite, but by late afternoon we had finally arrived. One last bus ride from the town center brought us to our Airbnb, tucked into the hills about ten minutes outside of town.

I had debated whether staying outside Ortisei would be worth the extra logistics. That question was answered the moment we opened the door. (And side note, ask for the free Val Gardena Guest Pass handed out by hotels/airbnb hosts! Unlimited Use of public transport in the Val Gardena region which saved us a bunch of money!)

The views of the Dolomites from our windows were worth everything. Towering peaks, soft green slopes, clouds drifting lazily by—we don’t remember the last time we stared out an Airbnb window as much as we did here. Prepare yourselves for a lot of mountain photos. Sorry, not sorry.

We rounded out the day with a walk around the property, a stop at a local market to grab food to cook at home, and a shared bottle of wine—once again admiring those views. We had officially made it to the Dolomites.

Views from the top of Seceda Ridge right after getting off the cable car

Day 2: Seceda Ridge and Letting the Day Unfold

We started the next morning early-ish—early enough to beat the crowds without pushing anyone too hard. At the top of my list was Seceda Ridge, and with multiple cable cars departing right from Ortisei, getting there was surprisingly easy.

We chose the Seceda Cable Car (bought tickets while standing in line), which whisks you up the mountain in two stages. The first lift climbs from Ortisei to Furnes, and the second launches you even higher—straight into another world. Within minutes, we were standing at the top, surrounded by dramatic peaks and wide-open sky. See video above. Wow!

The views were unreal. Somehow, impossibly, they were even better than what we’d already seen. From the top of Seceda, you’re treated to sweeping 360-degree views of the Dolomites—jagged limestone peaks, rolling green meadows, and valleys that seem to stretch forever. There simply aren’t enough superlatives.

We headed straight for the Seceda ridgeline. The green was unlike any green I’ve ever seen—electric and soft all at once. The ridge itself is stunning, dramatic without feeling intimidating, and it’s easy to see why people are drawn here.

We snapped photos, gasped some more, and then… suddenly found ourselves at the end of the trail.

What the…?

This is one of those moments I know too well. I get something set in my head—the hike, the plan, the way the day is supposed to go. I do the research, the prep, the mental mapping. And then reality shows up with a different idea.

The longer ridgeline hike I had envisioned was closed to tourists, and I’ll admit—I was a little bummed. We sat there, surrounded by world-class views, with no backup plan. The boys were hungry (shocking), and I was trying to convince myself to pivot gracefully instead of spiraling into quiet crabby mode.

We grabbed some overpriced chips, sat down, and watched paragliders leap off the mountain and glide effortlessly through the canyon below. As they floated through the sky, we figured out our next move.

When the Plan Falls Apart (In the Best Way)

*Here we go! On our way down several miles.*

And here’s the thing—I am so grateful that trail was closed. Because what came next ended up being one of our favorite days of the entire trip.

No extra research required. All you have to do is start walking down.

As we descended, we discovered something magical about this part of Italy: the mountain is scattered with family-owned restaurants that are so much more than just places to eat. Each one felt like its own little alpine playground. Trampolines. Parks. Streams to dip tired feet into. Ziplines. Swings. Lounge chairs. Games. It was heaven—for kids and adults alike.

Each stop had its own personality. We grabbed food at one—classic Alpine fare with a blend of Italian and German influence. Wine at another. The boys jumped, zipped, and played. Then we’d walk again, glance back at how the views kept changing, and follow another trail leading us deeper into mountain paradise.

We stumbled upon a farm where we pet sheep and admired goats. Tried our hand (and balance) on a slackline. Found more wine—clearly a theme. By the time our feet started protesting, we were nearing the town of Santa Cristina (another amazing town in Val Gardena region).

We had hiked around six miles by the time we reached the bottom. The boys were spent. Our dogs were barking. We could have taken cable cars down—but honestly, the joy was in the walk itself.

We went home that night with tired legs, full hearts, and that quiet, happy feeling that only comes from a day that unfolds better than planned.

Wait for the views…

*Coming in to the Baita Daniel Hütte - this one had some insane views…but which ones didn’t?!?*

Day 3: Separate Adventures, One Mountain Reunion

After our now-familiar 20-minute downhill walk into town, we had planned to split up for the day.

Chip and Reid set off on their own adventure—renting e-mountain bikes and heading deep into the trails of Val Gardena. Meanwhile, Bennett and I boarded the Alpe di Siusi cable car from Ortisei, curious to see what waited at the top.

The lift climbs from Ortisei up to Alpe di Siusi (also known as Seiser Alm), the largest high-altitude alpine meadow in Europe. Within minutes, the town disappeared below us and the world opened up into rolling green pastures backed by dramatic Dolomite peaks. It felt strangely familiar—like being back home in Colorado—but on a grander, more theatrical scale. There was even something reminiscent of the Telluride Gondola—that same quiet glide up into thin air, that same feeling of leaving one world and entering another.

We stepped off the lift and just stood there.

WOW.

The views were everywhere. Jagged peaks in every direction. Wide meadows stretching endlessly. It was almost overwhelming—we didn’t even know where to begin. But the beauty of Alpe di Siusi is that you really can’t make a wrong choice. Every path leads somewhere breathtaking.

So we picked a gravel trail that seemed to promise something beautiful (as if there was a bad route) and started walking.

Tracking the Bikers

As we wandered, we passed more of those magical mountainside huts—each one with wooden tables, sun umbrellas, loungers, and that unmistakable Alpine energy. We half-joked that we were “casually” hoping to run into Chip and Reid on their bikes somewhere up here.

Then I remembered—I had Chip’s pin location.

Out came the phone.

We watched their little dot inch closer to ours. And ours to theirs. It felt like some kind of mountain treasure hunt. And then—off in the distance—we spotted two riders zooming across the meadow trail. We started screaming their names like lunatics. At first, nothing. They kept riding.

We waved frantically, yelling louder, hoping the wind would cooperate for once. Finally, something must have carried our voices just right. They slowed. Stopped. Turned around. Scanned the landscape.

More wild waving.

And then—recognition. They saw us.

Lunch at Malga Contrin

It felt like such a gift to randomly collide on a mountain in the middle of Italy.

The timing couldn’t have been better. We decided right then and there it was lunch o’clock and settled into one of the nearby huts—Malga Contrin—complete with wooden picnic tables, wide-open views, and baby goats wandering freely around the property.

The boys collapsed into their seats, flushed from sun and effort. They were sweaty, smiling, and clearly thrilled with their decision to rent e-mountain bikes.

We ordered local plates to share—hearty mountain fare with that signature South Tyrolean blend of Italian and Austrian influence—along with a bottle of wine (for us) and a lot of water (for everyone). It’s nearly impossible to focus on food when the Dolomites are towering around you, but we managed.

Between bites, we swapped stories.

Apparently, e-mountain bikes are the move. Fast. Powerful enough to conquer steep climbs that would otherwise be brutal. But don’t be fooled—they still require real effort. You’re pedaling, you’re working, and you’re earning those views. Just with a little extra boost.

As they recounted their climbs, descents, and the pure joy of flying across alpine terrain, I realized something I’ve come to love about travel days like this:

Sometimes splitting up is the best thing you can do.

Everyone gets their version of adventure. And somehow, on a wide open meadow in the Dolomites, it all converges again.

After our long lunch at Malga Contrin, we parted ways again, but not before snapping a few classic mountain meadow photos. The kind you look at later and think, Did that place actually exist?

Bennett and I set off on another trail that we hoped would loop us back toward the Alpe di Siusi cable car. Meanwhile, the boys began their descent down the mountain.

We actually ran into them one last time right before boarding the gondola back down — one of those quick, happy, “see you at the bottom!” moments that feel small but somehow memorable.

Back in Ortisei, Bennett and I stopped at the underground Spar marketplace to gather dinner provisions, then wandered the beautiful streets of town afterward, assuming Chip and Reid would be cruising down any minute.

But as the minutes passed… they didn’t.

Watching the Little Dot

We pulled up the location map.

There they were — not far from us, perched on the side of the mountain.
“Great, they’re close,” I said confidently, sliding my phone back into my bag.

We made our way to the bike rental shop and claimed two beachy linen chairs outside in the sunshine, waiting casually.

Twenty minutes passed. I checked again. Strange. Their little dot hadn’t moved much at all. Hopefully nothing was wrong.

Another twenty minutes. Still barely moving. You know that subtle shift? When you’re trying not to worry… but you’re definitely worrying?

*They also found a pump track which is always a fun discovery*

And then finally — movement.

That tiny dot began creeping toward town again. From across the way near the base of the mountain, we caught glimpses of them descending. There they are which means relief for me!

The Story at the Bottom

Once the bikes were returned and helmets were off, we needed the full scoop.

Apparently, they had chosen a route that was so incredibly steep it felt nearly vertical. At some point, one of them took a spill — sliding off the bike and down the side of the mountain…Nothing catastrophic. But enough to rattle confidence, scrape a few parts (bike and human), and require a regrouping moment before continuing on.

Parts and egos needed fixing and then they got back on to finish the ride.

As it turns out, e-mountain bikes may give you a boost uphill — but they don’t make you invincible. And just so the riders don’t feel like their confidence is shattered, I will note that the bike shop workers noted that the route they took was not a route for bikes. Ha!

One Last Evening in the Dolomites

With a full day behind us, we waited at the bus station for our ride back up to our hillside home.

Dinner was cooked in. Windows were flung open. And once again, we found ourselves doing what we had done every night there — staring at the mountains.

The clouds moved slowly through the peaks, changing the light by the minute. Shadows stretched and colors softened. The limestone towers shifted from dramatic to gentle in the evening glow.

It never got old. There’s something mesmerizing about watching mountains breathe with the weather. And just like that, our Dolomites chapter was closing.

Leaving Val Gardena

The next morning, we packed up and said goodbye to those views — truly sad to leave them behind. Val Gardena gave us more than postcard views. It gave us flexibility when plans fell apart on Seceda. It gave us unexpected joy in the simple act of walking downhill.
It gave us mountain hut lunches, baby goats, electric green meadows, and one slightly dramatic bike crash story we’ll probably laugh about for years.

It reminded me that adventure doesn’t have to be extreme to be meaningful. Sometimes it’s just choosing a trail and seeing where it leads. Sometimes it’s tracking a tiny moving dot on a map and feeling your heart drop — then rise again.

The Dolomites felt wild, but welcoming. Grand, but playful. Epic, but deeply human.

And for a few summer days in Val Gardena, we got to live inside that landscape. What a gift.