In the spring of 1916, the Austrians swept down through these mountains.

“We’re in one of the most beautiful places in the world,” he said, “and one of the most horrible.” Joshua Brandon gazed at the surrounding peaks and took a swig of water. The previous night we had slept near the ossuary, along a country road where cowbells clanged softly and lightning bugs blinked in the darkness like muzzle flashes. We could see the Pasubio Ossuary, a stone tower that holds the remains of 5,000 Italian and Austrian soldiers who fought in these mountains in World War I. Sheep bleated in a meadow, and a shepherd called to them. We scaled the 50 feet of steel rungs, stopping every ten feet or so to clip our safety tethers to metal cables that run alongside.Ī half-hour in, our faces slick with sweat, we rested on an outcropping that overlooked a valley carpeted with thick stands of pine and fir. To reach the battlefield we would trek several miles along this via ferrata, or iron road, pathways of cables and ladders that traverse some of the most stunning and otherwise inaccessible territory in the mountains of northern Italy. A curious ladder of U-shaped steel rungs was fixed to the rock. Just after dawn we slipped into the forest and hiked a steep trail to a limestone wall.

Wwi isonzo