A Place You Ortisei (Highway To Hell)
Peeling back the curtains this morning, not only were we wowed anew by the mountains outside, we were elated to actually be able to see them - the blue sky and sunshine beaming in.
We enjoyed our buffet-when-you’re-not-having-a-buffet again today and had a chuckle at all the “mountainwear” people were getting around in. The shops are actually full of lederhosen, in sizes to fit the whole family. Aside from participation in Octoberfest shenanigans, we weren’t aware people still got around in this traditional get-up. We were wrong. We saw several townsfolk fully decked out and those that weren’t, were sporting knee-high socks, pedal pushers, flanno shirts and felt vests. It’s enough to drive anyone to yodel.
We had a quick chat to Rossco to wish him a happy Father’s Day too!
We packed up Jimmy the Jeep, surprising ourselves that we were leaving on time, and took to the roads again. Before heading across the other side of the mountains, we wanted to re-visit Misurina, where visibility had been like pea soup yesterday. Backtracking around roads we’d driven the night before, we couldn’t believe the size of the mountains, how close they were to the road and how they could all have been so invisible in the fog. The sun now out, we got to see this gorgeous place in all its glory.
Our next destination was Ortisei, to our hotel with the ominous name: Hotel Hell. Hoping it didn’t live up to its name, we entered the fray once again, looping around the dizzying corkscrew roads and with a speed limit of between 30 and 50km/hr, we had plenty of time to enjoy the view. Motorcycles were the popular mode of transport today. At one point, I’d stopped to give way and 21 motorbikes zoomed by. Occupying an imaginary third lane up the middle of the road, we held our breath as we watched some of them perform death-defying manoeuvres. I’m sprouting more grey hair by the second.
There seemed to be something interesting happening by the side of the road so we pulled in to take a look. An Audi sponsored concert was taking place, a suited pianist seated at his grand piano, singing and taking advantage of nature’s own amphitheatre. Talk about great acoustics. The audience were seated in deck chairs on the grassy mountainside, clapping loudly with appreciation. Molly and I walked around to admire the scenery. A flock of sheep resting under a nearby tree had tiny lambs frolicking all over the place that were so cute. We thought we had better not stay without a ticket so we hit the road again.
Italian road signs are a mystery most of the time, especially the warnings. By the time Molly has whipped out her Google Translate, we’ve already passed the area. Now we just see the signs, throw our arms up Italian style and say “Eh, whatever.”
Signs warning of some sort of deer in prancing mode, looking like it’s about to jump on the road, are a bit of a worry. Thankfully nothing with hooves has pranced across our path as yet, though we still remain on full deer alert.
Siri, in combination with the marvellous Miss Molly, has done her best to help us navigate across this part of the country but every know and then she goes a bit haywire, leading us down the garden path…literally. A couple of times we’ve ended up on teeny weeny roads that look like they lead to the milking shed. I guess driving into someone’s front yard is one way to see how the locals live.
The highway did eventually lead us to Hell. Hotel Hell. Not a very flattering name and not one that might attract visitors (without a death wish). It turns out, the hotel has a long history -a veritable institution in this gorgeous mountainside town, named after its original owners, the fine upstanding citizens, Mr and Mrs Hell. Why the Hells didn’t change their name (it must have been hell for the kids) and why they decided to name their hotel after the place of weeping and the gnashing of teeth, remains a mystery.
The hotel did defy its name, however, and was a really great and quirky place to stay. The staff spoke excellent English which made life so much easier and the helpful receptionist even drew us a little map to direct us into town (politely correcting my terrible pronunciations).
It was a long way up the mountain, starting with not one, not two, but THREE almost vertical escalators, and that was just to the foot of the gondola. We then took an extremely picturesque ride in our private gondola cabin, where we disembarked and lined up for the next leg of our ascent, a funicular ride to the top. This funicular was essentially a big box for passengers to stand in and be pulled straight up on a track. Our fellow-passengers were two separate groups of Americans, from Ohio and Chicago respectively. The controller (who wasn’t fat) had some oompah German music playing and all of us started dancing independently of one another. We all had a good laugh saying they needed to install a bar and a disco ball. The controller wasn’t as amused and took his job, and his oompah music extremely seriously.
Alighting the funicular at Seceda, 2.5km above sea level, the altitude started to have an affect on us. We were both a little breathless and I got an immediate headache. It didn’t stop us appreciating the magnitude of the beauty before us though. There were mountains for days. We were so high up we could see for miles, the Dolomites’ signature triple, jagged peaks on display. Molly commented, “this is majestic!” A flock of birds was flying in formation above us as we wandered through wildflowers and marvelled at God’s handiwork. There was a big circle at the top of the hill that named all the mountain peaks you were facing as you moved around it. It also informed us we were 15,120km from Canberra!
We had a quick FaceTime with Toby and Molly had a chat to her friend, Kiara, showing them both the incredible views. As the sun got low in the sky, we made our way back to the furnicular, cow bells clanging off in the distance.
Our friendly staff back in Hotel Hell had mentioned they had a jacuzzi. Ahhh, just what we needed after a big day in the mountains. We saw a lady returning from a spa, clad in a luxurious white bath robe. We were keen to put ours on but when we checked, the cupboards were bare.
Descending to the wellness centre, literally in bowels of Hell, fighting off bath robe envy as we spied many others parading in their bath wear, we found there were actually two bath tub jacuzzis, side-by-side. We popped our tokens in the slot and waited with bated breath to see what would happen. Sure enough, they began to gurgle as warm water gushed forth from the plug holes. Across from the jacuzzis were a couple of young girls relaxing on banana lounges. They looked very relaxed indeed and didn’t rouse when we walked in. Molly was first to submerge and I followed, slipping on the slippery surface (that felt like an ice skating rink) and very inelegantly almost did the splits, thumping into the tub with a great thud. Molly and I guffawed with laughter and still the sleeping girls didn’t wake. I was tempted to take a pulse.
Once full, the tub lit up like a beacon, simultaneously exploding with aggressively effervescent bubbles that lasted a full half hour. It was sooo relaxing.
We’ve absolutely loved the Dolomites!
