My name is Piuma. I weigh four kilos, but I’ve got the self-esteem of a Saint Bernard. And today I’m telling you about that time they took me to walk along the Dolomites Cycle Path, from Dobbiaco to Cortina. Or at least… that was the plan. As usual, I was the one who decided where we stopped.
Let’s start from the beginning. Early wake-up call (too early). Backpack, water bottle, snacks, and off we went by car. My human had that “refreshing day in nature” expression. I, on the other hand, had just one question in mind: “Will there at least be a decent meadow to roll in?”
The answer was yes. And not just one: dozens. Because this path is a former railway track that cuts right through a picture-perfect landscape — the kind of postcard you’d actually want to keep, not a cheap souvenir.
You walk on a neat gravel strip that winds through silent forests, wide meadows, and a few tunnels with plenty of atmosphere. When we entered the first one, my human said: “What a beautiful light!” I thought: “Sure, sure… but can you smell that fox? That’s the real deal.”
At every curve there was a new scent, a new sound, a new excuse to stop. I made friends with an Australian Shepherd in a bike trailer (clearly fallen nobility), greeted a group of humans with trekking poles and zero coordination, and did my part for at least five bushes. Everyone has their own way of marking territory.
The stretch to Ospitale was my favorite. The name already says it all: “Ospitale.” It felt like a promise. And indeed, there was fresh water, true silence, and a table just right for my well-deserved break. My human had a sandwich with mountain cheese, I got a piece of apple. Not exactly fair, but I pretend to be fine with it.
At one point, we came across a cow. Huge. She looked at me as if to say: “I don’t know you, but I already feel judged.” She was right. I stared back and we understood each other: live and let live, as long as you stay out of my bed.
We carried on a bit longer, but then I decided it was enough. The sun was perfect, the grass was perfect, and yes, the tiredness was perfect too. I sat down. My human understood. Sometimes it just takes one look and everything aligns.
We walked back slowly. I was proud. I had covered kilometers, seen the Dolomites, ignored a fair number of squirrels, and done my share to maintain the local scent map.
Back in the car, I closed my eyes. I wasn’t sleeping: I was processing. Experiences are meant to be savored afterwards too, right? The Dolomites Cycle Path is a trail to sniff, to walk slowly, to save for days when you need some true silence.
And yes, also for the days when you want to pretend to be a miniature mountain guide.
It always works.
