Traveling With Six Women: A Social Experiment I Didn’t Know I Needed

There are decisions you make in life that feel small at the time, and then there are decisions where you say “no,” walk away, think for two minutes, and go, Wait…what is actually wrong with me?

This trip was one of those.

Back in February, when Melissa first asked if I wanted to come to Italy, I said no. A hard no.  September in Whistler is beautiful: the weather is perfect, the trails are magic, tourists are gone, and the best overnight adventures in my backyard happen around then. But then I went home, sat with myself, and looked through that list of values I want to live by that  I wrote last year: growth, connection, adventure.
And there it was, staring at me, ticking every single one of them and screaming: “GO TO ITALY.”

So next time I saw Melissa, I said: “Hey… I changed my mind. I’m coming.”

One of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

I had never travelled with a group of women abroad. And as much as I love my girlfriends, I fully expected some stress or drama that I don’t get.

To be totally honest, I expected more tension. Seven women is… a lot. And while there might have been occasional tension over a poorly timed comment about route navigation or little disagreements, being in a bigger group made everything easier. In fact, I realized something: the bigger the group, the easier the dynamic. There was always someone to talk to, someone to hike with, and someone to disappear from when you desperately needed alone time. You could drift in and out of micro-groups without feeling weird, which made everything flow much more smoothly than I expected.

One of my favourite surprises was how good it felt to travel with only women. There’s something freeing about being surrounded by women who understand the full spectrum of emotions, hormones, exhaustion, silliness, and strudel cravings. With women, you don’t need to pretend you’re fine. You can be sweaty, vulnerable, overwhelmed, euphoric, or sarcastic — and no one judges you. They just hand you a snack and ask if your back still hurts.
The pace, too, felt noticeably more relaxed—especially compared to goal-oriented missions I tend to do with my man, who happens to be an elite athlete.

By the end of the trip, these women weren’t just hiking partners. They felt like a strong support system that reminded me how deeply fulfilling female friendships are.

It was brilliant. Zero tension. Just seven women who wanted adventure, celebrate our friend’s birthday, and, in my case, the occasional strudel.

But the real reason for Milan's visit was Formula 1. Mel’s Lewis Hamilton devotion led us to Monza, where general admission means “you’ll see nothing”. The track is elevated, and people line up from 9 am, and still don’t get seats or a view for the 3 pm race.

But shooting sports in the past taught me to observe and wait for opportunities. When I spotted an emergency access gate open and a poor, overwhelmed 18-year-old volunteer guarding it, I was on high alert. 

After some sweet-talking, they let us stay in the gate. I politely asked a few spectators in front of me if I could kneel in front so I wouldn’t block their view — and just like that, I had a one-second window of cars racing by. My $380 ticket finally somewhat paid off. An expensive way of practicing my panning technique to get unique photos, but better than nothing.

After getting lost in charming towns, drinking wine, eating pasta in Italian cities, and watching Formula One at Monza, the trip shifted gears. We traded train stations for trailheads, cafés for rifugios, and Italy suddenly got steeper. That’s when the Dolomites stole the show.

Hiking in Europe is… different. Busier, more structured, and far more social than I remembered. Even in mid-September, rifugios were packed and the Alta Via One - beautiful, straightforward, and popular - had a steady stream of hikers every day. The weather, at least, turned out perfectly: clear sunshine, a few dramatic cloud moments, and uninterrupted views the entire time.

If the hiking felt manageable, the dorm rooms were the true adventure. Seven women split into smaller groups, sharing co-ed bunks with rotating groups of male hikers, created its own daily entertainment—tight spaces, minimal privacy, and a surprising amount of unintentional comedy.

The accidental running joke of the trip became my nightly estrogel routine. I need about three to four minutes for the gel to absorb on my thighs, which naturally means pants down for a little while. On our second night, in the smallest bunk room I’ve ever stayed at, I tried to quietly apply my gel -pants down, shirt on, doing my best to keep it discreet. Of course, that’s exactly when a man walked in, froze, and instead of retreating, proceeded to have a conversation about the beds and pointing at the one in front of me: “Is this one available?” When he pointed to the one directly beside me, mid-application, I understood this was simply going to be my fate.

From that moment on, every single night, some guy walked in while I was applying my gel. The girls were in hysterics,  the men were confused, and I eventually accepted that this was a core part of my Dolomites experience.

The rifugios were consistent and well-run, with plenty of food and a dependable routine: hike, eat, card games, sleep, repeat. Everyone naturally settled into their own pace—some fast, some steady, some solo, some in clusters—but it worked. Our group included a pro mountain biker and someone only two-and-a-half months post-surgery, and still, the dynamic felt balanced. Eight days of moving through mountains, adjusting to whatever each rifugio offered, and waking up to crisp morning air made the whole experience feel refreshingly uncomplicated.

Rifugios provided all the meals we needed. Breakfast and dinner came with the accommodations, and you could order lunch at the rifugio or have them pack one to take with you. I brought a tiny stash of protein powder, electrolytes, and a few candies—but really, why bother? Rifugios or “strudel huts,” as I called them, were reliably stocked with cakes, strudels, and chocolates. I quickly realized my personal strudel addiction wasn’t just mine - it had become practically a group hobby. Fresh fruit and vegetables were scarce, and I wish I had brought some along the way. But honestly, who cares when you’re climbing mountains fueled by layers of apple strudel and chocolate cake?

We hiked the route from Agordo to Dobbiaco—essentially AV1 backwards—and ended up loving that choice. It felt like each day improved in small but noticeable ways: better food, warmer and longer showers became free later on and with a lock, nicer rooms, and a gradual progression in comfort and privacy. Doing it in reverse gave the whole trip a smoother upward momentum.

Key Takeaways

Total Distance: ~104.1 km
Total Ascent: ~6,381 m
Total Descent: ~5,937 m

Difficulty: Moderate. Several long days with real elevation gain and loss, but perfectly manageable if you hike regularly and have done a few overnight trips. The longer days often paired the big distance with more forgiving terrain.

Accommodation: Standard AV1 rifugios. Booking ahead is important even in September; in July and August, it’s essential. With seven of us, we were often split between rooms or buildings.

Navigation: Trails are well marked once you know the general direction, but the network is extensive—GPS made things easier.

Logistics:
We reached the starting point using public transportation and did the same on the way out once we finished. In Verona, we rented a car for a couple of days to loop around the area, explore a bit more, and drop our luggage at our final hotel—an incredibly helpful move that made the end of the hike much smoother. The combination of trains, buses, and short-term car rental worked seamlessly.
Note: we skipped a couple of days at the beginning and started in Agordo instead Belluno as we were not able to book rifugios for the size of our group, cutting the Alta Via 1 hike by 2 days. 

The Dolomites were stunning.
The hiking was rewarding.
Yes, the strudels were my daily highlight.

But the real story is seven women, all in different stages of life and fitness—ranging from a pro mountain biker to someone only two-and-a-half months post-surgery—coming together, supporting each other,  and creating a kind of connection you don’t get in your everyday life.

There is something deeply healing about women taking themselves out of their routines, out of their roles, out of their obligations—and putting themselves in nature, together.

We weren’t partners, bosses, managers, teachers, or caretakers out there.
We were just women in the mountains.
Hiking. Playing cards. Eating strudels. Challenging ourselves.
And watching each other come alive.