It was one of those days when even the dog wakes up before the alarm clock. Maybe because of the suitcase in the hallway or the smell of the pre-packaged sandwiches, the fact is that at five to seven he was already there, sitting, with his harness between his teeth and a look that said: “Hurry up, human”.
We set off from Monguelfo, which sounds like the name of a fairytale place, but it is a real town, with real houses, real pine trees and real bakeries that open early. The road to Lake Braies seemed made to sweeten the wait: gentle curves, fresh air, and that kind of silence that is not scary, but company.
The arrival was a little surprise: the lake was there, still as a photo that came out too well. The dog looked at it with suspicion, as if the water was guilty of hiding something. Then he put a paw forward and decided that yes, they could leave.
The tour of the lake begins with a wide and gentle path, just like the pace of curious dogs. Every ten meters there was something to sniff, every fifty to mark. And every now and then, an encounter: a little girl with an ice cream that dripped faster than the walk, a man with a mountain hat who told stories to his older Labrador, a silent couple who held hands without ever looking at each other.
The dog stopped every now and then and seemed to want to say: "Do you see these humans? Always looking for something, when all it would take is a smell of a pine tree to feel better."
Halfway around, there was the beach. Nothing to do with Rimini, but for a dog with dusty paws and a lolling tongue, it was a dream. Diving. Splashing. Automatic sandblasting. Laughter. Water splashing on the owner (key scene). And finally, rest in the shade of a rock.
We set off again, slower, more tired, but happier. We passed by the little church of Maria am See, so pretty that even the dog stopped to look at it. “I wonder if they do blessings for unruly beagles there,” I thought. He, in response, scratched his ear.
Before returning to the car, we sat down on a bench of worn wood. The lake had changed color at least three times since we arrived. The sky, like every self-respecting mountain afternoon, was preparing for the theater of puffy clouds.
The dog curled up next to the shoes, with that deep sigh that only they use when everything has gone exactly as it should. I drank a coffee from the vending machine and it seemed delicious. Sometimes you don't need much.
In the car, while he was already asleep with his nose on my paw, I thought that the best trips are not the ones full of things to see, but the ones that make you want to go back. And that maybe the secret is to have someone next to you who doesn't ask you where you're going, but simply trusts you.
