Iron Ways and Old Wounds | Via Ferrata in the Dolomites
April 29, 2026“It might not be safe,” warned Jacint. “After all, it was made over 100 years ago – and I’m pretty sure that it hasn’t been maintained since…” his voice trailed off as he followed me in anyway. He was right, of course, but I could hardly just walk past the entrance of a First World War tunnel without stepping inside to explore it.
Cold, damp air hit me as I walked in. My feet crunched on broken stone debris underfoot but otherwise the tunnel seemed to be in good shape. I followed the dark, narrow passage until it came to an end at a small chamber with a window. Peering out, I was treated to spectacular views of the rock face of Croda Rossa d’Ampezzo and the valley below. It was a perfect vantage point from which to observe the surrounding mountains – once vitally important both militarily and strategically, but now, simply a stunning panoramic viewing platform.
A view into the past
We were climbing the René de Pol via ferrata in the Dolomites. Here, it is not unusual to encounter such man-made caverns and tunnels cut into the limestone rocks. This famous mountain range in northern Italy was designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2009 for its natural beauty and unique geological formations. The area has long attracted outdoor enthusiasts, from skiers and hikers to mountain bikers and climbers. But the region also has a dark history.
The peaks and cols of these 2,000m+ summits formed the frontline between Italian and Austro-Hungarian troops shortly after Italy joined the Great War in 1915, turning the idyllic landscape into a warzone. The slopes remain forever scarred with intensive trench and tunnel systems, scattered with remains of stone fortresses and other wartime constructions. Artillery shell explosions left huge craters in the alpine meadows. More than a century later, coils of rusty barbed wire and pieces of shrapnel are still strewn across the slopes.
We’ve been returning year after year to the Dolomites to hike and scramble, captivated by these wild, rugged mountains and their unique history. Last summer, at the end of an extended seven week-long campervan trip, we spent a week or so in the Cortina area. Travelling with our beloved van gives us great flexibility and easy access to some of the more remote trails.
This time, the days were spent on hiking trails that we hadn’t explored in previous years. Some days we found ourselves on popular routes, other days we wouldn’t see another soul all day. In the evenings we parked up in spots where overnight stays for campervans were allowed, sharing travel stories with climbers and hikers from all over Europe.
The last day: up from Cimabanche
On our last day we left the campervan in the crisp morning sunshine at Passo Cimabanche, a short drive from Cortina d’Ampezzo. For the first few kilometres we followed the easy path along the old disused railway line, which serves as a shared walking and cycling trail. Despite the sunshine it was a cold morning, and we only shed our extra layers as we started the steep climb through forest.
Before long, the trees petered out and we were surrounded by towering, rocky mountains, almost sparkling white in the morning sunshine. In front of us where the shrub line ended, the pale rockface was broken by a few dark rectangular shapes – the first of many man-made caverns we passed on this route. The path then steepened and I was grateful that I only had a small daypack containing via ferrata kit, climbing helmet, supplies for the day and some warm clothes. I certainly wouldn’t have wanted to drag heavy artillery guns and wooden crates of munitions up this mountainside.
The weight of war
This was just one of many never-before-seen challenges that came with manning the frontline in this mountainous terrain. Everything had to be carried on the backs of animals or men. A network of passes, mule tracks and paths was constructed, and as the war dragged on, even aerial cableways became part of this complex logistical web. Today, some of the hiking trails make use of the old military supply routes. Despite the difficulties, hundreds of kilometres of tunnels and trenches were dug. The soldiers often spent many weeks and sometimes months at a time at high altitude in harsh conditions. But neither side made significant military progress on the alpine battlefields and between 1915 and 1917 the front was at an almost complete standstill.
American war correspondent E. Alexander Powell described the Italian front as one of the most unforgiving of all: “On no front, not on the sun-scorched plains of Mesopotamia, nor in the frozen Mazurian marshes, nor in the blood-soaked mud of Flanders, does the fighting man lead so arduous an existence as up here on the roof of the world.”
The troops positioned in the mountains fought not just each other but battled with the brutal elements as well. The weather is notoriously unpredictable all year round in the Dolomites. Overnight temperatures can drop to zero degrees centigrade even in the summer months. To make things worse, the winter of 1916-17 brought extreme snowfall and colder-than-average temperatures. Perhaps unsurprisingly, avalanches and freezing winter conditions claimed more lives than were lost in actual combat.
Clipping in
Fortunately, the weather was being kind to us, and after about two hours of hiking in pleasantly warm, late August sunshine we reached the start of the via ferrata section. The first steel cable was secured to the rock near the entrance of the man-made cavern, which housed a small rusty box with the route-book inside. The pages were filled with messages from hikers from numerous countries, but the last entry was a good couple of days old, which confirmed that this particular route was less popular than some other trails in the area. After writing a short note, I put my harness on and followed Jacint onto the rocks.
The term via ferrata roughly translates to ‘iron way’ and usually refers to a mountain route that is aided with a series of fixed cables, rungs and ladders. In the Dolomites, such routes are marked and maintained by the Italian Alpine Club. Anyone with a via ferrata lanyard, climbing harness and helmet can follow them. Although the first cabled routes were constructed at the very beginning of the twentieth century, they are strongly associated with the First World War, when multiple cables were installed to aid the movement of troops. Later in the twentieth century, many of the routes were restored, and then new ones were created as the popularity of via ferrata grew. The Dolomites are now believed to have the greatest concentration of via ferrata in the world. Ranging from easy, aided walks to physically demanding climbs, there are hundreds of routes to choose from.
In between the wired section we scrambled on rocks and explored wartime caverns and tunnels. The previous day we had wandered along the restored trenches near the iconic Cinque Torri rock formations. It is one of many open-air museums in the Dolomites where barracks, trenches and tunnels have been restored in meticulous detail to give insight into life in the mountains during the war. Whilst undeniably educational, I find it more exciting to stumble across wartime remains on more remote routes like this one.
Up to the summit and down through time
We climbed a series of stemples, vertical wires and up a short ladder. In a narrow, vertical gully, I really had to stretch my short legs and arms to reach the foot and handholds, but it is not a technically difficult ferrata. It took us about two hours to climb the wired section, and then a final short walk led to the summit of Punta Ovest del Forame (2,385m), where we were greeted with panoramas of a sea of rugged mountains.
After a well-deserved lunch we started the descent, initially walking along an undulating ridge with views of razor-sharp peaks reaching towards a perfectly blue sky. Then we zigzagged endlessly down a steep scree slope that led eventually to the wild Val Pra de Vecia valley. We walked alongside a wide dry riverbed, scattered with enormous boulders before the final part of the route took us back through forest.
It was late in the afternoon when we got back to the van at Cimabanche. By the time we had found a suitable stop for the night, the sun had dipped behind the jagged peaks, painting the rockfaces orange-pink. It was almost completely dark as we cooked and wolfed down spinach and ricotta ravioli. “We should come back next summer,” said Jacint, tired but contented, as he poured some pinot grigio into my glass. The temperature plummeted rapidly as the night drew in, but we stubbornly stayed outside until the first stars appeared overhead, soaking up every moment of this unique place.
The mountains had given us everything they always do – spectacular scenery, quiet awe and that particular satisfaction that only comes from earning a view with your hands and feet. But the Dolomites also offer something harder to name: the sense of a landscape scarred and suffused with the trauma of war. Every metre of trench, every dark tunnel-mouth cut into the limestone, every iron rung bolted into the rock by a soldier – they remind us that these summits were not always a playground. It means that for us, coming back year after year is not just a holiday; it is also an act of remembrance.
Nike Werstroh is an outdoor writer and the co-author of several walking guidebooks, published by Cicerone Press. Nike and her partner, Jacint, are passionate about hiking the world’s best trails and sharing their love of walking with others through their guidebooks and photos.