When I heard “tomorrow we’re going to Bormio,” my ears perked up. I immediately thought, “Oh no… you’re not taking me to the hot springs, are you?” Because me and warm water have never been great friends. I prefer the kind that runs over stones — cold, alive, and scented with moss and freedom.
Luckily, in my human’s backpack there were no robes or slippers, just a water bottle, my leash, and — I’m sure of it — at least one sandwich. So, on an autumn morning, we set off for the Pedemontana della Reit, above Bormio: a trail that climbs through larch and fir forests where the colors of autumn aren’t just beautiful — they’re spectacular.
The air was so clear it felt like breathing light. Every step made the leaves crunch under my paws, and the sun, low and gentle, caressed the trunks. My human admired the view, while I read the mountain like a newspaper of scents: passing squirrels, distant deer, and a curious dog who had been here yesterday and left a very clear message.
When the forest opened up, the valley appeared before us — the stream glimmering like silver, the peaks dusted with snow, and a silence made to be listened to. There we found a picnic area with wooden tables and a bench that seemed placed just for us. He pulled out the sandwich; I pretended not to care. Then, with my unbeatable technique — the “deep, dignified, hungry dog stare” — I earned a piece of cheese. It was creamy, fragrant, the very essence of the mountain.
After lunch we went down to the stream. The water was icy but irresistible. I dipped my paws, then my nose, then my whole self. He laughed, I wagged my tail. That’s how happiness is measured: in splashes and laughter.
When we sat again on the bench, the sun was sliding behind the mountains. He closed his eyes; I curled up beside him, listening to the calm heartbeat of the forest — falling leaves, running water, two breaths in perfect rhythm.
I thought that the Pedemontana della Reit, in autumn, is paradise for curious dogs and humans who aren’t in a hurry. They’ll never see me at the hot springs — but give me a trail, a stream, and a wooden bench with a view of the valley, and I’ll show you what true relaxation really means.
