The hike up the Lagazuoi was difficult and grim. I was in pain and exhausted, and I had a hard time appreciating the hike.

When we reached the rifugio, I got to thinking about what the hike symbolized historically and for us as travelers. Perhaps this hike wasn’t supposed to be enjoyable–I mean, why would climbing a thousand steps in a cramped tunnel be fun? I instead think it served as a reminder of our privilege and warless present. We were learning about the poor and intensive livelihoods of soldiers while harnessed to the mountain, wearing helmets, and able to take breaks when our bodies needed it. Soldiers were not able to take breaks, nor were they wearing the same safety gear we were. We had it much better. 

Emerging out of the tunnels to clip ourselves to the mountain.

And it was still unpleasant! Imagine how the soldiers felt!

A haunting view of the tunnels within the Lagazuoi.

Smoke-charred rock, resulting from fires and poor ventilation.

Views from windows in the tunnel, the only source of fresh air and sunlight.

Thinking about the awful conditions within the tunnels absolutely broke my heart. Lugging machinery up 300 slippery steps in the dim light must have been awful. The smoke-charred interior likely meant soldiers’ lungs were charred as well, which is not helpful if your army base consists entirely of stairs. So, while this hike was not “fun”, I still feel it was fulfilling and incredibly important. I was forced to recontextualize my discomfort, which is not something I am used to doing.