After Milan we headed to Lago di Garda on our way to the Dolomites. This lake, the largest in Italy, is similar to Lago Maggiore in scenery but better for tourists because the land surrounding it is not as hilly. Towns and villages still line the water's edge but it doesn't take an oxygen tank to get there. Although we only passed through, taking a break to walk around the lakeshores of a large town, it was beautiful. With more time it would be a great place for a vacation. We drove north to a much smaller lake to stay the night. We accidentally took the rough and narrow road to the campsite instead of the designated (and paved) road. The van, however, survived like a champion. The campground was basically a lakeside lawn of parking spaces among scattered trees. But, the facilities were nice and the view was even better. It was here we realized how badly we needed a foldable table. We had been using the table inside the van to eat but it's about the size of a standard microwave. So, for the next morning's breakfast we hijacked a plastic table from in front of an abandoned camper. We made a mental note to pick one up a.s.a.p.

The morning of the stolen (borrowed) breakfast table we got back on the road toward Bolzano, the "base town" of the Dolomites. The Dolomites, in case you were wondering, are a mountain chain like no other. They are part of the Southern Alps and spout from the earth unlike the rest of the range. They have sheer faces that only advanced climbers could scale. From a distance they look barren and unattainable, but on and around these rocks is a paradise for hikers and bikers. After finding a campground/mobile park nearby, we took the rest of the evening to eat dinner (it was probably pasta…again) and plan the next day's hike. Steve was very excited about this part of the trip and I was trying to stay upbeat alongside him. To be honest, I wasn't pumped at first. The prospect of climbing the gargantuan slab of vertical rock I saw from our picturesque location was less than appealing. I was (am not) in very good shape and wasn't sure how I would last. But, I was determined to prove myself wrong about my condition and not look so lame. So… I laced up my boots the next morning and was actually looking forward to it over breakfast. We packed some water, extra socks, sunscreen, sandwiches and extra layers before locking up the Transit.

The trails in this mountainous region {campground elevation: about 2,900 feet; Refugio Bolzano (our destination at the tippy top): 8,060 feet} range in severity. We started at the campground and walked across the street to the beginning of trail #1. This trail was described on our map as "demanding." I thought great, "demanding" is not only a word that makes you shudder on vacation but was also the last classification of trails that started somewhere around "kid friendly." The first grassy mound we crossed winded me. This was going to be hell…but being so close to the heavens might make it bearable, I thought. Steve was a champion, of course. Mind power, he said. My mind was saying some less philosophical words but I kept them to myself. Near the beginning we ran into some cows with very loud bells hanging around their necks. I felt some happiness seeing them. We continued through the easier part of the hike where one kid was having a coronary over his baby sister being held while he was made to walk. He was at least seven and wielding a long stick. I didn't blame the father.

We trekked along, talking a lot in the first quarter of the hike, which lasted 5 hours. Somewhere near the middle I started to feel a pain in my body that I had never felt before. Not only exhaustion and lack of oxygen to necessary muscles but true aching…like an old lady. My bad knee was surprisingly not the first thing to bother me. First it was my quads. I hadn't used them like that since running hills during high-school soccer practices. Then my calves…I assume they lasted a bit longer due to riding. Then my lower back started to weaken and finally my shoulders, which were bearing the weight of a large water bottle, two jackets and all of our food. Steve was equally weighed down, if not more. This is about the time that my body decided it had expelled its main energy stores and so proceeded to outsource the remaining fatigue to my brain. We stopped several times to take pictures or stare out in the expanse of trees and distant whitecap mountains while we shared travel stories. This part was pleasant and I loved the views but the once encouraging voices in my head were starting to turn evil like gremlins after a heavy rain. I knew at this point, despite the fact that the climb was getting seriously more difficult with ever meter, that I couldn't stop there. I felt like a guy I once read about in a book about Mt. Everest climbers who nearly died just before the top but found the strength to continue. This wasn't Mt. Everest, but in my book, it was as good as. The air was thinning noticeably and the sweat on my back, chest and arms made me very cold. I borrowed a thin long-sleeve from Steve, which did the job for a while. He was very encouraging but also had a much faster natural pace than I did. I told him to go ahead so I didn't feel like a burden in his adventure. He walked ahead but often used the opportunity to take pictures of me.

We were almost to the top when I had a bit of a meltdown. My body was dead weight attached to my head. Somehow the remaining strength in my mind, which was severely disintegrated at this point, was holding the rest of me in an upright position. I put one heavy leg in front of the other but didn't know how. Every step hurt. Every time I looked up I saw the plateau (where the Refugio was and where I was allowed to celebrate) and it seemed miles away. Nearly every person we passed (mostly Germans) said "Grüss Gott" as they skipped down the mountain. They had woken up early I guess. "Grüss Gott" is a Bavarian greeting typically heard on mountains and during hikes meaning, "greet God," as in "say hi to God for me." I started thinking about God and then my grandmother (who recently passed) and then my emotions and fatigue joined hands in a game of 'let's attack Jessica' and I nearly collapsed. Luckily we were already sitting when this happened. I felt weaker than I can remember ever feeling. We weren't even at the top yet. This was the horrible part. Steve let me talk and consoled me with strong silence. I actually prefer this treatment to the typical "you'll be o.k." or "I'm so sorry" consolation. I got through my meltdown while prodding at an ant with a daisy stem. I starred at the amazing sight around me: the snowy mountains, the height of our accomplishments already, and the tiny villages below and I realized that the world was much bigger than I was. I needed to knock it off. So, I stood up and trudged the rest of the way knowing it would feel wonderful to accomplish such a climb. It was very cold at the top but I only had one jacket on for fear of weighing myself down too much. When we reached the top we saw that the Refugio, which typically would have a place to eat and probably hot drinks, was closed. The main season hadn't started. We were early. I almost cried. I had been dreaming of a hot chocolate for over an hour.

Instead we huddled next to the wall outside in the wind and cold and ate our sandwiches, mini cheese wheels and apples. A young local guy who spoke very good German and decent English stopped by for a chat. He was initially inquiring about the closed Refugio but ended up talking about the climb and area etc. He had come up the other side of the mountain and told us it was much shorter and easier. I felt some relief. We had planned to go that way down so as to do a loop and not an up-and-back routine. On the way down, initially, we felt like new. I was practically skipping along after the long break and filling lunch. We stopped to watch a snake curl away from Steve's curiosity only to find its safe haven under my shoe. I felt another rush of happiness and realized I missed having creatures around. We also saw a half frozen pond brimming with frog's eggs. They looked like the little jelly balls in bubble tea. I made a mental note of yet another reason why I don't like those.

About 20 minutes into our 3.5 hour descent I started to realize this was actually the challenge of the day. My shoes -- having been purchased in Bavaria off the sale rack --were slightly too big and my toes were jamming into the front with every step. I also realized a bit too late that they were men's shoes. So, they were too wide as well. My knees began to give way during the downhill trek and my legs shook. Steve also had knee pain at this point, the first time he had mentioned anything hurting. We crawled over the large rocks and I probably looked like a battered puppy, sulking and droopy. That's how I felt, anyway. The walk was long and only went flat a few times, giving temporary relief to our knees and feet. At this point a slight uphill was a welcome sight.

We made it down to the base and considered taking a bus to the stop nearest our campsite but Steve was sure it was close. We walked some more. It actually wasn't close at all but I didn't blame him or complain because he had already put up with me so well during the climb. We eventually arrived at the campsite and dove into the showers. We treated ourselves to dinner at the restaurant on site (which looked very nice) and had a terrible meal. I was so relieved to be on flat ground and proud of my accomplishment that I didn't mind.

The next morning I couldn't walk. I needed help stepping down the small height from the van to the ground. It's about a foot. This continued for a couple days and made the innumerable bridges in Venice, our next destination, a series of mountains in themselves.