Climbing Punta Penia: A Last-Minute Adventure to the Queen of the Dolomites
Overview:
- Starting point: Passo Fedaia (2,057m)
- Arrival: Punta Penia (3,343m)
- Altitude gain: 1,286m
- Duration: 1 day
- Difficulty: Hard
- Technical difficulty: Medium
I was in Istria, preparing for the trip to my parents’ chalet in Nevegal (Belluno) the next day. My guided tour to Punta Penia, the highest peak of Marmolada—the Queen of the Dolomites—was scheduled for two days later, allowing me time to travel and rest. However, the agency called with unexpected news: rain was forecasted for my planned climb, but the day before was looking perfect. Could I anticipate the climb? I hesitated. It would be a rush, but the opportunity was too good to pass up. In the end, I said yes.
The Journey Begins
After a long drive, we arrived in Nevegal at 18:00. The tour was set to start at 5:00 at Passo Fedaia, a 1.5-hour drive from Nevegal. With an early wake-up looming, I had dinner and tried to sleep by 20:00—but I couldn’t. Maybe it was too early, or maybe it was the excitement of the climb ahead. By 3:00, I was already up, double-checking my equipment, and at 3:30, I set off into the pitch-dark night.
The advantage of traveling at that hour? The roads were completely empty. I arrived at Passo Fedaia (2,057m) just before 5:00 and parked in the dark. A few minutes later, another car pulled up next to me—it was the guide. Without much of a greeting, he simply told me to follow him and drove off. Still half-asleep, I struggled to keep up. We crossed the dam and parked in complete darkness at the foot of the Marmolada.
Meeting the Group
There were three others in my group: a professor from Tuscany, a talkative guy, and a Frenchman on a home exchange. I was the only one with my own equipment, but I still wanted the guide to check it. He looked at me as if to say, I’m not your dad. Classic Veneto mountain guide attitude! (For example those at Monte Rosa were completely different) But it's part of the folklore and it reminded me my dad so I took it posivitely.
After a quick glance, he gave an approving nod and, without a word, started walking off the path. It was still dark, so I switched on my headlamp and hurried after him. It turned out I didn’t need the light for long—fifteen minutes later, the first light of dawn revealed the silhouettes of the Dolomites.
The Ascent
The initial path was a gravel track winding through mountain pine bushes, typical of the region. After about an hour, we reached Pian dei Fiacconi at 2,600m. By then, the morning air had fully woken me up, and I was mesmerized by the Dolomites turning pink, then orange, in the sunrise.
At Pian dei Fiacconi, the landscape changed drastically. The terrain became barren rock, a stark reminder that the glacier had once reached this point but had now retreated several hundred meters higher. Evidence of past collapses was everywhere. We passed the ruins of a hut destroyed by falling ice—an eerie sight. The most infamous collapse happened in 2022, killing 11 people, with the most recent one in 2023, just the year before. I crossed my fingers and kept going.
I lagged behind at one point and decided to cut a few bends to catch up. The guide immediately scolded me: "The path exists for a reason—you’ll only tire yourself out more".
We continued on rocky terrain for another thirty minutes, crossing a couple of snowfields before stopping to put on harnesses and crampons. At 2,800m, we had reached the glacier. Unlike Monte Rosa’s vast expanse, this glacier was smaller but much steeper, especially at the start. We roped up and began our climb.
On the Glacier
By now, I was feeling the altitude, and the sleepless night wasn’t helping. As we climbed, we passed hidden crevasses—silent, gaping dangers beneath the ice. Knowing past tragedies, I felt a tinge of fear, but roped together, we had no choice but to press on. The guide’s harsh comments echoed through the air, but I focused on my footing.
The via ferrata, following a crack in the rock, felt easier than the glacier. Perhaps I was just relieved to be off the ice. After another 30 minutes, we reached the end of it at 3,180m. One final push—20-30 minutes on a snowfield—and we arrived at the tiny hut of Punta Penia. Fifty meters away stood the summit cross at 3,343m—the highest point of the Dolomites!
The Summit
We reached the summit around 9:00, after four hours of climbing. It was a spectacularly clear day, and we had breathtaking views of the surrounding Dolomites and Marmolada’s dramatic cliffs. After taking photos, we celebrated with cake at the hut.
The hut itself was a tiny, rugged shelter—no toilets, just a hole where waste disappeared down the cliff. A stark contrast to Capanna Margherita, where you can find pizza and WiFi at 4,550m! But that simplicity gave Punta Penia its charm.
I also had the chance to meet Carlo Budel, the famous Guardian of the Dolomites. He had spent seven summers living "in winter" in this remote hut and wrote a book about his experiences titled "La sentinella delle Dolomiti". It was his last season, so I was lucky to see him before he left for good.
The Descent
We retraced our route down, and the guide, now in a teaching mood, showed us knots he used to secure us on the via ferrata. The mezzo barcaiolo knot was particularly interesting—it could hold our weight securely, yet a slight adjustment could release it instantly.
The real challenge came when we returned to the glacier. The guide, suddenly tense, barked orders: Stomp your feet hard into the snow! He wasn’t wrong—one slip on the steep ice, and we’d all go down together. At one point, he turned to me and said, I don’t like what you’re doing—put those feet down hard! So much folklore! But I took his advice seriously. After 30 minutes of careful descent, we made it safely off the glacier.
From there, the rest was easy—down rocky paths to Pian dei Fiacconi, then along the remnants of old ski slopes (a different path than what we used to come up). About 3 hours from the summit we were back to the parking lot.
The Perfect Timing
The guide pointed to a few clouds creeping behind Marmolada. See? That’s why we started early—hard snow and incoming rain. It was hard to believe, with the sky still mostly clear, but sure enough, by the time we reached the bottom at 14:00 and had a celebratory beer, the rain had begun.
I was exhausted, but I had made it to the top of the Queen of the Dolomites. What a climb!
Comments
Post a Comment