Finding My Feet in the Bergamo Alps
I was born and raised in the flatlands – so flat that the highway cutting through my region is considered genuinely hazardous, not due to sharp turns or bad weather, but because it’s so monotonous that drivers often nod off behind the wheel. The landscape stretched endlessly, broken only by the occasional tree line or gas station, and the horizon always seems comfortably predictable.
Fast forward to today, and I now find myself living in the foothills of the stunning Bergamo Alps, also known as the Alpi Orobie, Bergamasque Alps, or simply the Prealps. These mountains are anything but flat. Towering ridges, rugged peaks, winding trails, and panoramic views have replaced my once-familiar open fields. It’s exhilarating, a little intimidating, and completely captivating. So, what can a person say but… Challenge accepted!
I want to explore the entire region – to hike every trail, gaze out from every ridge, and discover the hidden valleys tucked between the peaks. The Bergamo Alps are calling, and I’m eager to answer. But as a foreigner with no real background in mountain life or hiking, I’ve come to realize that excitement and curiosity alone aren’t quite enough. The terrain here asks for more than just enthusiasm – it requires preparation, awareness, and a bit of respect for its unpredictability. I’ve quickly discovered that navigating this kind of environment comes with its own set of problems. Two in particular have stood out.
Problem 1: So Many Trails, So Many Ways to Get Lost
There are so many options, so many paths, and so many ways to get lost – literally and figuratively. Every trail seems to split into several more, each promising breathtaking views, hidden waterfalls, or a cozy ‘rifugio’ that may or may not actually exist. The sheer number of choices can be paralyzing, especially when you’re unfamiliar with the terrain. So, I did what most people would do: I bought a map, downloaded a hiking app, picked a route with good reviews, and did my research. And yet, things still went sideways.
For example, once a route I chose didn’t mention that the access road to the official trailhead was basically only passable for 4×4 vehicles. This meant leaving the car and walking to the official start of the path, adding an unexpected 6km of extra walking! The views were amazing, but the overall experience wasn’t exactly what I expected based on the written instructions.
And there are a lot of trails that aren’t described anywhere, not only in English but Italian also. You just have to know them. So I felt the only way forward was to tap into local knowledge. I live with one, and I’m surrounded by born-and-raised Bergamasco Italians who know these mountains like the back of their hand. So, I started going on hikes with them… which brings me to my next problem.
Problem 2: Locals and Their “Easy” Hikes
Here’s an actual photo of me letting out a dramatic sigh during a hike to Capanna 2000 Rifugio, which my partner described as “easy.” I cursed at him in every language I know. I waved my hands (and walking sticks) in his direction, threatening to toss him off the mountain. And don’t get me started on the crampons – he suggested we bring them “just in case” at the last minute, and of course, we ended up needing them the entire way. Hearty polenta and wine, which I was given upon reaching the rifugio, saved the day. Overall, it was a lovely hike, just again, not what I was expecting based on the description provided.
I realized we just have a very different understanding of what “easy” means. And it’s not just him – it’s pretty much everyone here. They’re born and raised in the mountains. For them, it’s easy; for me, not so much. When I say “easy,” I mean walking normally, not crawling on all fours up a 60-degree incline. So far, I’ve met only one local (one!) whose judgment of what counts as easy or hard I actually trust.
Due to Problem 1, I now have to rely on the locals for advice, which brings me back to Problem 2, and it’s a vicious cycle!
Learning My Own Pace: Hikes That Actually Work for Me
But now, after stumbling through some of my own adventures, I’m writing it all down here, not just so I don’t forget (because trust me, I will), but also in case it helps anyone else who’s caught in the same mess. If it does, then hey, at least my suffering wasn’t in vain!
There are different paths for different moods and energy levels:
- When I don’t want to deal with the car, I take public transportation to Albino and then
hike up to Selvino. The way back? Well, that depends mainly on how much food I’ve eaten and whether I walk it out or will be lazy and take the funivia! - When I’m in the mood for a chill, easy hike with a twist,
I head to Monte Isola. It translates to Mountain Island, and that’s exactly what it is. The best part? You don’t have to go up if you don’t want to—the loop around the island is more than enough to enjoy a seaside kind of feeling. - If I want to enjoy a nice, leisurely walk but avoid actually hiking up, I go to Parafulmine. The car does all the “heavy lifting,” so I can just tackle the minimal uphill walk and cruise on to the rifugio. And their lasagna? Never disappoints.
- And when I’m channeling my inner mountain goat and want to use all four limbs, I make my way to Salmezza. An old path from Lonno gives a bit of everything, like a great outdoor gym and the meadows around Salmezza are the perfect spot for a post-lunch nap!
Join the Journey: Explore the Bergamo Alps Together
This space is exactly what I needed – so I created it, not just for myself, but for anyone feeling a bit lost in the mountains, both literally and figuratively. I wasn’t born into this world of hiking and alpine trails, but somehow, it feels like I was meant to be here. There’s something about the challenge, the quiet, and the beauty that just clicks. If you’re curious about exploring the Bergamo Alps and want to see what this region has to offer, without having to figure everything out on your own, you’re in the right place. I’ll be sharing trails I’ve tried, honest stories from the path, and helpful tips for those of us navigating this journey together. And who knows? Maybe we’ll even end up hiking together.
The next path is already calling. Subscribe to the newsletter and walk it with me – virtually, for now.