A few weeks ago, I set out once again for the Italian Dolomites. My plan was simple: park my VW Caddy at the Passo di Giau, hike up to Laghetto di Baste, pitch my tent, and photograph the Perseid meteor shower.
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It sounded perfect — until I arrived. Every single parking spot was packed. Not a surprise, really, but still frustrating. So I drove around, admired the views, and finally found a quiet spot for my camper just below the pass.
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Up on the hill nearby, a crowd of photographers and tourists had gathered for the sunset — the classic spot. Strangely, I had never stood there myself. I always prefer other places: above the little pond where Ra Gusela reflects beautifully, or off to the east. That evening, I headed east with my gear, ready for the night ahead.
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I left the tent in the car — a mistake. The place I had found would have been perfect for camping. Still, I enjoyed a calm summer evening and planned to start hiking around 2 a.m. But when the time came, the sky was thick with clouds. Not a single star in sight.
Time for Plan B.
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At first, nothing came to mind. Then I remembered Lago di Sorapis — a lake I had never visited. Its turquoise waters are stunning, but on Instagram I’d only ever seen it crammed with people. That was enough to put me off. Until now.
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At 3 a.m. I left Passo di Giau and parked half an hour later at the trailhead for path no. 215. The hike is listed at three hours, but I made it in two — exhausted but thrilled. The trail was steeper than I expected, but the reward? I was completely alone. For fifteen magical minutes I had the entire lake to myself. Even after the first hikers arrived, it stayed quiet for almost an hour.
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That’s when I realized: I’d brought the wrong lens. The heavy 100–500mm was useless here. What I needed was my small wide-angle. Even with the 24–105mm, good compositions were nearly impossible. In the end, I only took a handful of photos — some showing the lake’s brilliant turquoise and one panorama with Punta Sorapiss rising above it.
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Eventually the peace gave way to crowds. I packed up and headed back. The return was harder than the climb: the sun was blazing, and I had to keep waiting at narrow spots for groups of hikers — always giving way to those heading uphill.
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On the way down, I took in the views one more time. The Tre Cime stood tall in the distance, the Misurina Lake glistened with its hotel, and peaks like Schwabenalpenkopf and Dreischusterspitze pierced the horizon.
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By 9 a.m. I was back at the car, passing hundreds of hikers sweating under the late-morning sun. I couldn’t help but smile — my adventure was already complete.
