A Beginner’s Guide to South Tyrol Part 2: Coping with all the out doorsy stuff

A Beginner’s Guide to South Tyrol

PART 2:

Coping with all the outdoorsy stuff

B“The average South Tyrolean is in ridiculously good physical shape.“ ack when I was a translator, one of my jobs was responding to English-language reviews for a mountain lodge. My husband Lorenzo did the Italian ones. The lodge was ski-in, ski-out and situated at nearly 3,000 meters. But non-skiers could walk there from the cable car as well. The owners had described the route: “We’re located just a short, pleasant walk from the top of the ski lift. The trail is well marked, and not too steep. Walking time: 20 minutes.” After a while, a review from a Milanese tourist described the trail as a “nearly life-threatening” vertical climb. He likened the undertaking of reaching the lodge to that of Sisyphus in Greek mythology, who was forced to roll a huge boulder uphill, only to have it roll back down, for all eternity. A woman from New York was less poetic: “Not short. Not pleasant. Not a ‘walk’ at all, in fact. Yes, too steep. Climbing time: 60 minutes. If you’re an Olympic athlete.” After that, we changed the text for the foreign markets: “For non-skiers, reaching the lodge on foot is possible. But be warned that it’s a long, very steep hike at altitude.” A little while later, a British hiking enthusiast described his “pure horror” as his wife slid on her belly down a snowy hill, landing not-so-gently in a snow heap. That was when the lodge started offering snowmobile pick-ups. Now, it’s not that those tourists were uncoordinated. Or even in bad physical shape. They just weren’t South Tyrolean. In fact, the sheer number of similar reviews revealed to me a universal truth: the average South Tyrolean is in ridiculously good physical shape in relation to the rest of us mere mortals. And is thus utterly unreliable when it comes to communicating to outsiders the difficulty of any given hike or bike ride or ski run. My visiting American friends often get inspired by locals to take this or that “not-steep-at-all, easily-managed-before-lunch, you’ll-be-soglad-you-did-it” hike. But after being blamed for some rather unfortunate experiences, I’ve learned to dispense dire warnings, along with speck sandwiches, to those I can’t dissuade: “After the first five or so hours, your lungs will feel like they’re on fire. Then a vile feeling of nausea will overtake you. At a certain point it’ll seem like your brain cells are dying from lack of oxygen. A lot of them will be dying, actually, but we have a lot more than we need so don’t worry. It is really pretty up there, though. See you tonight!” Of course you have to concede that South Tyroleans have an unfair genetic advantage: their ancestors would drive large herds of animals straight uphill for six or seven hours before sitting down to a leisurely noontime meal up at the Alpine pastures. Whereas my ancestors … well … repeatedly lifting that mug full of Guinness beer from the table all the way up to their mouths must have been exhausting.