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

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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

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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