Italy’s Iron Way: When Via Ferrata Routes Aren’t Quite as Straight Forward as Expected

Wendy has been climbing her way around Europe and has just tackled a few of the increasingly popular via ferrata routes in the Dolomites. Here’s how her three attempts went down.

What is via ferrata anyway?

Via ferrata routes are generally long, easy rock scrambles or climbs, protected by steel cables secured to the rock. You wear a harness, clip yourself onto a cable, and away you go. You don’t even need climbing shoes. There’s a variety of difficulties, naturally, and some lines have, for example, steel pegs or rungs to aid ascent. It’s quite common in Europe, though basically unheard of in Australia.

I’d completed a handful of via ferrata routes in Europe in 2019 and come the 2022 reopening of international borders, I planned a trip that included some time exploring the Italian Dolomites, famous for their via ferrata – which translates as ‘iron road’ or ‘iron way’.

In France, via ferrata des Evettes (near Chamonix) was designed and put together almost like a high ropes course – a well-protected traverse with obstacles and challenges like cable bridges above chasms. In 2019, I did it as an easy morning adventure.

In Germany, I climbed a route that was rated as one of the most difficult in the region. Again, it was well-protected and straightforward. It took a lot of upper body strength on some steep sections on blank rock, but as a rock climber, hauling myself up a taut steel cable, even when vertical or slightly overhung, isn’t a problem.

On my 2022 trip, my plan was to do the Alta Via 1, a 10ish-day hut-to-hut hike through the Italian Dolomites, but allowing a few extra days to fit in a bunch of ferrata side trips along the way.

Accompanying me was my partner Peter and our friend Phil. Phil is the fittest person I know. He’s in his early 60s and is famous for organising epic canyoning adventures that leave people half his age dizzy with exhaustion while he skips back to the campsite asking if anyone feels like doing a night canyon.

In the Dolomites, the routes are based on lines put in during the first World War. Parts of the Dolomites formed a front between Italy and Austria, with fierce fighting in terrifyingly inhospitable conditions. Troops chiselled caves and tunnels through the rocky Dolomite Mountains and hammered in steel lines to aid their movement through the jagged peaks. The majority of deaths were caused not in combat, but by rockfall, avalanche, and extreme cold.

Via ferrata in the Dolomites, I quickly realised, had less of a fun park vibe and more of a ‘get to the top at all costs in a hostile environment’ vibe.

Attempt #1

The first major route we tried was via ferrata Lippella, to the 3,225m summit of Tofana di Rozes.

This is meant to be a big day, around eight hours, with more than 1,100m of ascent from Dibona Hut at 2,080m, where we were staying. Peter was dubious about the weather forecast, but agreed to come despite his misgivings. It seemed like it would be medium to hard difficulty, but there was an option to skip the peak and make the day a bit shorter, so I wasn’t too concerned.

From the hut we headed steeply up towards the towering rock mountain, quickly ascending more than 300m, then skirted along the base, across terrifyingly steep scree slopes, to the entry point to the via ferrata. Europeans seem to have a different standard for what constitutes a ‘path’. The narrow tracks on steep slippery terrain clearly meant certain death if you tripped.

After more than an hour, we found the official start of the ferrata route – some former World War I tunnels that took us up inside the mountain, with cables to clip to if needed. When we popped out at the top of the tunnels, a couple of hundred metres higher, we were partway up the rocky massif. From there it was a combination of protected traverses, easy climbs, and narrow tracks along the side of the rock, as we wove our way up and around the mountain.

Around 11am it started to transpire that perhaps Peter’s concerns about the weather were well justified. The gathering clouds darkened and rain began, slowly at first. The rock became slipperier, and the steep sections felt less stable. For us – at altitude, attached to metal cables –  the real fear was a thunderstorm with lightning. It was easier to go forward than to retreat the way we came. But as the rain intensified, we found a line that took us around the back of Tofana di Rozes and to a high-altitude mountain hut, Rifugio Guisaani, where we took shelter and drank cappuccinos until the rain eased.

Our highest altitude that day was 2,700m. We probably only completed half the ferrata route. It still felt like a wild and epic day.

Our First Summit

Our first summit was Ferrata Alleghezi, to the summit of Mont Civetta, from Coldai Hut a few days later. After about an hour walk-in on paths through the scree, we reached the beginning of the route and started to follow the cables steadily up. I felt fine climbing on cables, but the intermittent unprotected ledges had me stepping carefully along, checking my shoelaces for any evolving trip hazards.

This was another peak of around 3,220m and the higher we got the thinner the air became. Just as I was beginning to feel hardcore about doing such an epic alpine climb, we were overtaken by a group of middle-aged Italians, who hadn’t bothered with harnesses and were just casually using the cables as hand-lines as they raced up. Close to the summit, as I gasped for breath, a young woman who looked about 19 struck up a friendly chat. I panted and wheezed my replies until I finally convinced her to just overtake me.

Towards the summit, we encountered some frankly rather sketchy sections. Steep, unprotected scree and rock to scramble up. Easy to climb, yes, but still noticeably unprotected. Then a narrow ridge to the very summit. Also unprotected. I kept my eyes firmly ahead along the ridge, avoiding looking at the hundreds of metres drop on either side of me.

Our Final Chance

The final day – day 13 of the adventure – offered a potential side trip to Mont Pelf. I was utterly exhausted. Whole new muscle groups were aching… and not in a nice wholesome what-a-workout! way, more in a I-could-seize-up-at-any-moment way. I admitted to Peter and Phil I was destroyed and just wanted to get back down to town. Peter decided to come down with me; he was looking a little pale and haggard by this point too.

Phil seemed mildly surprised at this, and set off on a six-hour side trip for a solo summit. He later reported that the climb was ‘pretty fucking sketchy indeed’ with an undue amount of exposed, unprotected scrambling.

This further reinforced my observations that ‘via ferrata’ can mean many different things and it’s best not to assume a route will be as well protected as you might hope. It can be a safe and easy way to climb a cliff or mountain; it also might require a bit of thought and hazard navigation.

Why don’t we have via ferrata in Australia?

It doesn’t seem to be a thing in Aus. My inexpert speculation has led to three key theories on why this is.

1. Legal issues. As Australia is probably the second most litigious country in the world (according to a quick Google search), local governments would understandably be cautious about installing routes like this. It also likely raises the level of bureaucracy required to get approval, even if someone wanted to risk it.

2. The culture. In Italy many routes evolved out of infrastructure left over from the war. Many European countries have long traditions of mountaineering, hiking, and climbing, and a history of making those sports accessible in ways that manage impact on the local environment.

3. Have you seen how trad climbers react when routes than can be done on gear are bolted?

Essential Gear

• Harness
• Helmet
• Hiking or mountain shoes with decent grip (you don’t need climbing shoes, but level up from flip flops)
• Specialised via ferrata safety line. It’s a bit different to a normal rock-climbing safety line as it’s designed to have some give if you fall. Hard to find in Australia; available everywhere in Europe.
• All your standard ‘day out in nature gear’… hat, sunscreen, water, snacks, warm clothes if it might get cold, and a PLB for remote areas
• First aid kit