Love and Loss in the Mountains

She had first met Jack Graf at University. She’d joined the hiking society after a particularly stressful semester had her crawling the walls of her pokey student flat. The steep ascents on that first group outing hadn’t been the only thing to take her breath away though. Jack was only 2 years her senior but his broad shoulders and strong jawline made him appear older. He had a quiet but confident aura about him and Leti had been hooked from that moment on. It would be a while before he plucked up the nerve to admit it but Jack had been equally besotted. Everything about her seemed so bright and jovial and there was no denying that she was beautiful. After university, they had continued to hike together, united by their shared passion for the great outdoors. With every new trail, their feelings intensified, swept up in their love for one another. Hand in hand they traveled the UK, touching trig point after trig point, cairn after cairn, soaking in the beauty around them. Up there on top of the mountains, there was nothing else calling for their attention, no expectations, a stolen moment between lovers.

Of course, the realities of life would claw them back eventually, the concrete maze of office blocks kept them separated during the week. For this young couple though, the feeling of being overworked and over civilised was only temporary, the mountains were their remedy.

Leti exhaled slowly, feeling the warm rays prickling at her skin, the touch of his hand wrapped around hers and the smell of his aftershave gently catching in the breeze. Italy had been on their list for years now, the world-famous Dolomites offering them a chance to tick another challenge off their seemingly endless list. Letizia Romani or Leti as she was affectionately known, had few memories of the time she’d spent there as a child. She had barely started walking when her parents had moved to London to follow her father's work. Still, something about the winding, narrow streets of Brunico had sent a rush of familiarity coursing through her. This was her birthplace after all. During the winter months, the streets would be bustling with skiers from all corners of the world. In the midst of summer though, it was a sleepy town nestled amidst the Puster Valley.  

“Ready?” Jack questioned, the excitement in her eyes reflecting his own emotions. “Let’s go” Leti beamed. They had set off early that morning, the temperatures were already rising but in the distance, they could see Marmolada’s peak was still hidden amongst the clouds. A multitude of crooked footpaths snaked their way around the Dolomites. For the early parts of the hike, they were captivated by the vast green scenery speckled with delicate, pastel flowers. “It’s magnificent” Leti exclaimed. As the warmth radiated through the hills they seemed to glisten a bright golden hue. Once again he slipped his hand around Leti’s, grateful that they could share this together. They didn’t rush, preferring to be present and drink in the sights around them. Jack started to wonder if they should have pressed on though as the trail slowly became thick with tourists.

They stopped to consult the map. They knew from experience that there would always be those who sought out new routes and if they studied the land close enough that they would find a quieter path. Of course, they were right. Small signs of those before them led them to a faded track that was hidden amongst the shadows. “Perfect” sighed Jack at the sight of shade, a welcome relief from the now blazing Italian sun. The path was steep and required a degree of scrambling but wasn’t beyond their capabilities. Leti led the way, feeling confident in her footing. As she reached out further though the coarse limestone crumbled under her hand. “rock” she called out of habit though the debris that fell was gravel-like in size and didn’t pose much risk to anyone below. Something felt unusual beneath her fingertips. On closer inspection, it wasn’t a rock but a smooth white piece of bone. A chill ran through her. She tried to shake it off. The Dolomites were home to endless wildlife species and it wasn’t unusual to find the remains of birds or small mammals in more secluded terrain like this. Still, an uneasy feeling lingered with her. They continued on, eventually clambering onto a more level ledge. Jack’s eyes fell on Leti. “Do you feel it too?” he asked cautiously studying her expression. Her nod of confirmation only served to feed the pit in his stomach. Leti couldn’t put her finger on it. It wasn’t the first time she’d stumbled upon something like this, her thoughts wandered to the time they had climbed Suilven in Scotland and after a near-vertical clamber to the ridge, she’d come face to face with the skull of an unfortunate mountain sheep. This was different, she felt anxious suddenly. She looked around, the rolling green landscapes had given way to jagged dark rocks. It felt as though the mountains had closed around them. Having hiked for many years they had learned to trust their gut and something was telling them to turn back, to leave this mountain. Jack surveyed the sheer rocks that they had just scrambled up. “It’s too dangerous, we will have to keep going” he pressed. With no clear route back they continued upwards. With each tentative step, Leti’s fear amplified. The feeling that they were being watched sent a shiver down her spine. “Jack what’s happening” she pleaded but Jack was equally as spooked. The trail leveled, in front of them loomed a tunnel that bore deep into the mountain. Panic washed over Leti, her breath catching in her throat, unable to breathe. Her head was screaming to run but her legs were frozen. “Do you hear it?” Jack choked. She looked up at him, his eyes were haunting. The sounds of birds and the fresh mountain breeze had stopped dead, instead, they could hear feet pounding. It sounded like thousands of angry cries were tearing towards them through the pitch-black tunnel. Leti could feel the anger, the pain, the fear, it hit her like a ton of bricks and threatened to send her over the ledge. “RUN!” She heard Jack cry as he tugged on her arm, they tore away from the path, desperate to put as much distance between them and the tunnel as possible. Their lungs burning, tears streaming, they ran and ran until they collapsed onto the grass at the foot of the mountain. Jack threw his arms around Leti as she sobbed, his heart still beating wildly. A few tourists stopped, bewildered at the sight of them both. Some offered to help but how could they explain when they didn’t understand it themselves. Slowly they dragged themselves up, the feeling of being watched, hunted no longer looming over them but they didn’t want to wait around for it to catch up. Unable to find the right words they stumbled back towards the town silently, both feeling unnerved. 

As they approached the picture-perfect town of Brunico everything was just as they had left it. People blissfully going about their day, completely unaware. They passed an elderly gentleman who was staring intently at a stone monument when Leti began to wonder if they had imagined the whole thing. “Did you hear them?” the old man muttered in a strong Italian accent, barely lifting his head. Leti’s head whipped around her eyes wide with horror. They hadn’t imagined it. Jack pulled Leti closer to him and tried desperately to swallow the lump in his throat. “Where are you from?” the old man's eyes met his. Jack noticed a brief flash of something familiar on his face. Had he felt it too? Had he seen something in those mountains? “From England” he stuttered feeling Leti’s grip on his arms tighten. “No!” the old man snapped making Leti jump. “Where are you from, where did your ancestors belong” He continued. Jack wasn’t so sure if he wanted to tell this man anything he thought, looking around for other passers-by. It hit her like a ton of bricks “They’re from Austria” he heard Leti choke. Looking down at her, something had shifted. “Leti what is it?” his eyes darting from her to the old man. “Someone please tell me what is going on” Jack shouted. The old man breathed a deep sigh, sitting back against the bench and once again staring at the monument. “Strada Delle 52 Gallerie” Leti whispered, all colour draining from her face. “Leti what is it, please can someone tell me what’s happening?” Jack pleaded. “The Road of 52 Tunnels” Leti said numbly, her whole body shaking despite the heat. “The White War” the old man nodded slowly. “Those mountains are not home to monsters or ghouls young man. They are home to brothers, fathers, sons of your ancestors. Those hills once ran red with the blood of heroes. Marched to their death through the road of 52 tunnels that are carved into the mountains and where tourists now tread. The front lines of a bloody and merciless war once ran across those lands and they each fought, knowing they would likely die for Italy… and for Austria” He sighed looking between them both. “These mountains know only the pain of your ancestors, the anger and the fear of young men pitted against each other on unforgiving grounds. It is a scar that runs deep through the rocks, through the grass, the waters.” Jack gasped, barely realising he had been holding his breath. The old man’s gaze wandered to Jack and Leti’s hands that were tightly intertwined. “It is a beautiful place, up in those mountains,” He said slowly “those men, your ancestors, they were enemies, both wanting to protect what they love and for that, they never left. For you to walk the same ground, all these years later, hand in hand, well.. perhaps the mountains can, at last, begin to heal” he trailed off.