Dolomites

The Dolomites are a mountain range in the northern Italian Alps, spread across South Tyrol, Trentino, and Belluno, with 18 peaks rising above 3,000 meters. The pale rock that gives them their colour and their name began as a tropical atoll some 230 million years ago, and the whole range was inscribed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2009. The nearest big gateways are Venice and Innsbruck, each about two hours from the heart of the range.

Lago di Braies

Lago di Braies is probably the best-known lake in the Dolomites, formed where a landslide dammed the Braies river. During the day, crowds circle the shore and queue for the wooden rowing boats. Come in the evening and the arithmetic reverses: the boats sit docked in rows, and you can sit alone watching the boathouse and the still emerald water while the last light works down the rock face behind.

The legends here are part of the furniture. One says that at full moon, the mountains behind the lake open a secret gateway into the underworld. On an empty evening shore, with the water holding a perfect mirror, the story does not feel far-fetched.

Misurina

Misurina sits at 1,754 meters, and the air is the first thing you notice: the lake’s surroundings are traditionally credited with healing properties for respiratory illness, and a treatment centre operates here to this day. Breathing at that altitude took us some getting used to; the views did not help.

According to legend, the lake is made of the tears of the giant King Sorapiss, who turned himself into a mountain for his daughter Misurina’s sake and wept when she fell from his hand. What we found instead of giants was the lake holding the village and the cliffs in a perfect mirror. Every walk around the town produced a different composition, because the mountains stand on every side.

A Football Pitch at 1,754 Meters

The frame that stayed with me from Misurina was not the lake. Walking out of town toward the respiratory centre, past a small monastery, we came to an open meadow with two weathered goalposts standing in the grass, and behind them a sheer wall of Dolomite rock with clouds pouring over its shoulders.

A football pitch at the foot of the mountains, at an altitude where we felt the thin air just walking. Playing a full match up here must be its own kind of training; as they say, moving at these heights strengthens the body. I would not have imagined a valley floor this scenic being used for anything so ordinary, which is exactly why the photo works.

Santa Maddalena and the Odle Group

I had long wanted to photograph the church of Santa Maddalena in Val di Funes with the jagged Odle peaks behind it, lit warm by a setting sun. The evening we finally climbed the hill above the village, a thunderstorm rolled in instead. We stayed put while the storm light broke over the church and the spires, a spotlight of sun cutting through the dark clouds onto the bell tower. Then we got soaked; rain in the Dolomites is heavy and does not negotiate.

Looking at the photo now, it was better that the sunny-evening dream fell through. In early June we had the village entirely to ourselves, in a place I had expected to share with a row of tripods.

Picco di Vallandro

The wonderful thing about driving the Dolomites is that the route keeps beating the destination. On the way to Lago di Braies, a valley opened to our left: flowering meadows, a gravel path, old wooden huts, and the bare pyramid of Picco di Vallandro rising over the meadow, called Dürrenstein on the German side of the map.

We stopped, followed the path through the meadow, and wondered about the scattered huts, too far from any ski slope to serve one; most likely they are old hay barns, the kind that dot every working meadow in South Tyrol. The plan for the day changed for half an hour, and the detour outranked the destination in the final selection.

Antholzer See

The Antholzer See, the third largest lake in South Tyrol, lies at 1,642 meters near the Austrian border, a turquoise surface framed by forested slopes. Legend says three prosperous farms once stood here, whose owners turned away a beggar; his curse flooded the fields three days later, and the lake has covered them since.

We arrived in rain, which settled the question of swimming and hiking in unfamiliar mountains. Instead, from a wooden viewing platform, I made a long exposure over the turquoise water, the clouds streaking over the ridgelines. The walk around the lake stayed on the to-do list, which is one more reason the Dolomites stay on every list we keep.

When to Visit the Dolomites

Early June surprised us: the range was nearly empty, the meadows were in full flower, and the price was fast-changing weather, sun to thunderstorm inside an hour. July and August bring stable trails and the year’s biggest crowds, especially at Lago di Braies, where early morning and evening are the quiet windows. Autumn colours the larches gold; winter turns the region into ski country.

Whatever the season, pack for weather that flips. We were soaked once, rained off a hike once, and the two best frames of the trip came from exactly those conditions.

Photographing the Dolomites

The Dolomites reward patience with weather and a willingness to stop the car. The storm at Santa Maddalena, the empty evening at Braies, the accidental meadow below Picco di Vallandro: none of it was planned, and all of it outranked the plan. Every valley carries a legend, and the captions write themselves.

The World Heritage listing of 2009 covers nine mountain systems, and even a short trip touches several without effort; distances are small, and the passes between them are part of the show. The range pairs naturally with the cities below: we drove up from the plains covered in the full Verona guide, and the lagoon of the Venice guide is two hours from the peaks, with the rest of Italy fanning out south of them.

Frequently Asked Questions