(Mis)adventures in the Vinschgau: it is obvious that the Brunjes love an adventure. But how will they handle the ups and, more importantly, the downs of their European journey? Find out as they cross the border into Italy.

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It was our fifth or sixth day in the Vinschgau region of Northern Italy. Formerly belonging to Austria, the region is a unique mix of Austrian-influenced austerity and cleanliness, and Italian love of art and good living. Though already underway for more than a month, we were still adapting to life on the road. So the first few days in the Vinschgau were filled with running what should have been simple errands.

One morning, we set off toward the next town by bike, with only a few items on our list: check email, buy groceries and get an Italian pre-paid number to save money on local calls. But by the time we had shopped for groceries and finally found a mobile phone shop, the bank where we had been told we could get on the Internet had just closed for its 2.5-hour lunch break, and the library (which also had Internet) had already been open for its hour that day.

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So, we killed a few hours in the park until half past two, and I returned to the bank only to find out I needed to have an account there if I wanted to use the Internet. By then, most of the day had gone, and we hadn't accomplished anything much, though we had already eaten half the food. By the time we got back to the bus it was about five o'clock and I kept telling myself that these difficulties surely belong to the adventure of travel.

Mapless and hapless 

Speaking of adventure, tourism office 'hiking maps' are--generally speaking--one of the best ways to get lost that I know of. Perhaps they just want to have something colourful featuring their name to lend credibility to tourists. There are exceptions to the norm, however; in both Scuol and Flims, Switzerland, for example, there were excellent, free, topographical maps available.

Nevertheless, the 'maps' I've found in other places seem to consist of an aerial photograph of the region labelled with various points of interest (cities, towns, mountains, etc.) and vaguely drawn squiggly red and yellow lines depicting routes linking them. If you want anything more specific, you have to purchase a topographical map.

My attempts to forego buying maps by taking digital photos of those displayed at public information points have brought varied results. Though this method is cheaper than buying a collection of maps, the obvious drawback is that a laptop is then needed to properly view them, and you don't usually carry a laptop when hiking!

When life is a downhill challenge

As things were, I didn't get around to exploring the Vinschgau until we had been there for five days. Once I did get out, however, I saw it was worth the wait.

I headed out late one morning on my mountain bike and found a farm road that ascended the mountainside, offering stunning views over the agricultural region below. After rising for several hundred meters, the road ended and I found a trail that followed an ancient aqueduct along the mountainside for what seemed like an eternity. The trail was challenging, but angled so I rarely had to brake or pedal, but rather flow through the curves and 'bunny hop' rocks, roots and perhaps the occasional squirrel--it was exhilarating.

I returned to camp filled with excitement. The following day I eagerly sent my unsuspecting wife, Antoinette, along on the same route, while I babysat our two daughters. We arranged to meet for a picnic halfway down the mountain at a point I had seen where the trail crossed an access road.

It was a disaster

What actually happened was Antoinette left camp with my verbal description of the route in her head. However, at the first indication that the actual route was different to the one I had described (to wit: there was a small descent which I had failed to mention in advance) she immediately headed off in another direction, but not before sending me an ambiguous text message that sounded as if she'd be imminently rounding the corner to Timbuktu.

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Puzzled, but not quite sure what else to do, I packed our daughters in the car and proceeded towards the meeting point, until I met with my own challenge: my fuzzy, out-of-focus digital picture of the regional map didn't quite depict clearly enough which of a handful of access roads I was supposed to take, and I quickly found myself in the middle of a vast hillside in a van about twice as big as the road itself, staring befuddled at several unmarked forks in several unmarked roads.

Calling Antoinette, I quickly blamed her for everything. She explained, however, that she was back on the right track and would be heading toward the meeting point directly, which meant I had to hurry up and figure out where I was.

Luckily, I soon happened upon a local couple who gave me directions to the access road I desired, and about 50 minutes later, I was snacking leisurely at the meeting point with Ileana and Anais (our daughters), expecting Antoinette to round the bend at any moment.

I then received yet another baffling text message wherein Antoinette explained that my dream trail was horrendous, she was sick of walking her bike around stones and tripping over roots, had got lost twice and I had better not wait as it would surely take her hours to get to where I was. I texted back that she shouldn't despair, and that we were waiting patiently at the meeting point (and stressed) as planned. There was a pause of another half hour before Antoinette wrote again that she had taken another way down, was back at camp, hungry and broke, and I had better hurry up and return with the money, food--and, well, the house.

At this point the girls were looking at me doubtfully, as the only way I had conned them into coming into the woods with me was under the premise that 'mommy will be meeting us there'.

But, in the end, not all was lost. Antoinette was pleased with her impromptu workout, and was happy she had made it out of the forest alive. I, too, was happy to have had a good jaunt with the girls on my own. The girls, too, had apparently had a splendid time disregarding my every instruction, while searching for and putting into their mouths various forest flora. Oh the joys of family travel!