The Mighty Dolomiti

The Italian side of the Alps is undergoing an Olympic-size transformation

- Jackie Caradonio

The drive from Milan to the Dolomites is usually a lovely one. The city slowly morphs into industrial outskirts, then gives way to more pastoral stretches dotted with Gothic cathedrals and half-timbered houses until white specks turn into blankets of snow. You first notice the mountains as you cross gently sloping hills covered in perfect Christmasworthy pine trees. In the distance, the jagged mountaintops defiantly pierce the sky. And then, suddenly, they are no longer in front but all around you, enveloping every angle.

In late September, however, my drive was also punctuated by something else: bottlenecks. Just as the first snow of the season was dusting the peaks, the stretch of autostrada linking city and mountain had become especially treacherous. There were slowdowns at every curve and merger, until abruptly, a string of collisions brought my drive to a halt.

I slammed on the brakes, letting out a sigh of relief that I had barely missed the car in front of me. But through my side mirror, I saw a van careen closer and closer until, with a sickening thud, I became part of the growing pileup. Vacation sidelined, I joined the conga line of rattled tourists—Italians, Germans, and Americans in all—who patiently waited their turn to fill out reports with the police. Eventually, I carried on my way, thankful for my safety. And insurance.

The drive had been especially quiet during the pandemic, when the Italians had the mountains all to themselves. But with those restrictions in the rearview and the 2026 Winter Games ahead, the Dolomites are at a crossroads, having survived one challenge just in time to prepare for another.