Europe - A Day at the Beach in Jesolo, Italy

Our first day in Italy would be spent in the beach town of Jesolo. Many times over the years while suffering through a 24 Hour Race or huddling over a survival fire we always joked that we never go sit on a beach on vacation. Jesolo was our opportunity to do that. It was conveniently located near Venice on the Adriatic Sea, but far enough away to not be touristy. It was also an opportunity to spend a few days in a nice hotel, a treat that I promised my wife.

Following the Canal to Jesolo

The Adriatic Sea

Italian Beach Mobiles

I found Jesolo and our hotel, The Queen Anne on Google. It occurred to me that it might be a little odd that The Queen Anne’s website mostly had pictures of the swimming pool, but I booked it anyway – for three nights. When we arrived we discovered why. It was just a bit run down. Within the first 5 minutes in the room I managed to break the sliding garage door type shade, blocking out the view and sunlight. Then the bathroom lights didn’t work. Then the bed was less comfortable than a yoga matt on concrete. Under any other circumstances none of this would have mattered at all, but it was supposed to be our nice-hotel-honeymoon experience. In fact none of those things were deal breakers as the imperfections added a certain collective charm that overcame their individual shortcomings. The deal breaker was the all night partying by every single person in the hotel. I slept a total of 15 minutes in the door slamming, drunken shouting, disco tech-pumping wall of sound that engulfed us. I would take my revenge during the next day’s siesta, but we would need a new hotel for the remaining two nights. Doug came to the rescue, helping us secure a night at the Crown Plaza on the rail line to Venice, oddly for much cheaper than The Queen Anne. In the morning we decided to spend the day enjoying the beach, the pool, and Jesolo before departing for our new accommodations.

The Queen Anne Hotel

Broken Garage Door Window Shade

Yoga Matt-on-Concrete Bed

Tiny Shower

The Pool Made Up for it All

And the Restaurant was Nice Too

Swimming in the Adriatic Sea was a new body of water to check off my list. It was a unique shade of dull turquoise that easily disguised the basketball-sized jellyfish drifting gracefully below. The Italian beach was lined with neatly organized chairs and umbrellas in front of each hotel. The local vacationers were playing Bocce Ball, sipping espresso from the many stands, and fending off Moroccans selling cheap knock-off purses - which other than us were the only non-Italians in sight. The relaxation in the air was contagious, but after a half day of sunning, swimming, searching for wild life, and harassing Jo I was bored out of my mind. It soon became apparent why we never sit on a beach.

The Beach

Basketball-Sized Jellyfish

We decided maybe the pool would be more interesting. It was probably the nicest pool I have ever encountered. Nothing too fancy, just incredibly clear water that met an infinite-horizon edge. The pool was blistering with activity; kids, parents, and teenagers all recreating. After roughhousing with Jo I kept busy trying to swim the length of the pool and back under water. When I emerged after a particularly long stint an eerie silence had overcome the scene. Like clockwork all activity had just stopped. Everyone was suddenly asleep so fast that the soccer ball hadn’t stopped rolling yet. It was siesta time! Amazingly the entire world stopped for a few hours while everyone had a nice nap.

The Pool

We had misgivings about leaving The Queen Anne early, but we were trying to fit a summer’s worth of vacationing into two weeks and sleep was valuable necessity. When everyone emerged from their siesta they would be recharged and ready to go all night. It was time to head inland to the Crown Plaza. The Plaza lacked the charm of the Queen Anne and its close proximity to Venice resulted in a disturbing number of American guests, but it satisfied the nice hotel goal. I stay in a ridiculous number of hotels, but I have to admit the room was a treat. There was even a face-washing sink next to the toilet. You have to applaud the Europeans for their efficiency.

Our Room at the Crown Plaza

Face Washing Sink Next to the Toilet - So Efficient

Dinner

We slept like rocks in the comfortable bed. We would need it because in the morning we would be off to Venice.

Europe - Lienz into Italy

It was five days into our trip and time to head south into Italy. On the way we stopped by the skiing town of Lienz, Austria. Lienz was a surprisingly large city to find in an isolated valley in Southern Austria. On the other side of the modern downtown, winding its way up the ski hill above an ancient castle was the Osttirodler. Colorado has alpine slides and even a few alpine roller coasters, but none were like the Osttirodler. It spanned the length of the mountain and hit speeds that American’s litigiousness would never allow. It's just like an alpine slide, except that you ride the sled down a roller coaster track. You control the speed by applying a brake, which I vowed not to touch. The elevated track follows the slope of the mountain down through the trees. It reminded me of the Forest Moon of Endor in the Return of the Jedi.

Headed to Lienz

The Osttriodler

On the Ski Lift

Petting Zoo at the Top

Riding the Osttirodler

I Vowed Not to Touch the Brake

(click to play)

As we headed east out of Lienz we were looking for a place to have lunch and I spotted a sign that said Wasserfall. I followed the signs to an isolated dirt lot that was surrounded by some more disturbing signs. They warned of a Federal Defense Force shooting range that was not fenced nor had clearly marked boundaries. This definitely wouldn’t fly with the lawsuit obsessed. We crossed the gate, skirting the shooting range, up to the most beautiful waterfall of the trip. Its crystalline water took a two-tear plunge down a dark marbled cliff into a blue pool that begged to be jumped in. The water was, impossibly, even clearer than what we encountered on our Via Ferrata the day before.

Ominous Warnings

The Frauenbach Wasserfall

Clear Water

This was 2 Feet of Deep

Lunch

Treehugger

Our route to Italy would take us over two mountain passes. The first was Gailberghone into the town of Kotschach. It was only one valley to the south, but the Italian influence was very apparent. We stopped in the square and happened to see the door of the local church was open. Jo called me inside to an intricately decorated temple that could rival any of the great cathedrals, except that ours were the only souls in the sanctuary.

On the Way to Gailberghone Pass

The Kotschach Cathedral

The next pass was named Ploken and the Italian border lay at its peak. Rain was moving in which would make the treat that lay ahead even more enjoyable. That treat was one of the best driving roads I have encountered in my life. On Top Gear UK the boys decided the best driving road in Europe was in Switzerland, but I beg to differ. Route 110 over Ploken Pass had it all; super tight turns, high-speed sweepers, tunnels, snow sheds, massive cliff exposure, and best of all Italy’s crazy drivers. I fit in like a peg. I was even more at home than on the autobahn. Aggressive was the only way to drive, but it worked because everybody did it.

Alp Frischenkofel West of Ploken Pass

Route 110 Up the Pass

Driving Bliss

(click to play)

Italia!

Mt Kl. Pal

Can You See the Climbers?

After the blissful (for me) and terrifying (for Jo) descent down the Val Grande between Mt. Terzo and Mt. Paularo in the Eastern Dolomites we followed the But River Tributary into the plains north of the Adriatic Sea. The drive was only a few hours, but the cultural shift from manicured alpine Austria to Mediterranean Northern Italy was as vast as the Great Valley that brought us there. Thick stonewalled farmhouses dotted a landscape made up of wine vineyards and wheat fields. Driving on the Autostrada was just as enjoyable as the Autobahn, but instead of polite uniformity there was aggressive chaos. We got caught in an afternoon monsoon and the aggressiveness turned into immediate caution as everyone collectively slowed down and turned their hazards on. In America it would have been a shit show, but we collectively negotiated the torrential rain and moved on. On the secondary roads, with no shoulders, cars can pass by splitting traffic and straddling the centerline, forcing the other cars to the outside of the lane. I don’t care what the Austrian’s say, driving in Italy was brilliant.

Our Route into Northern Italy