Monte Serva - A long hike at the edge of the Dolomites

🗺️ Overview

• Start: Col di Roanza, 850 m (parking behind the bar)

• Highest point: Monte Serva, 2,133 m

• Elevation gain: ~1,270 m

• Distance: 11km A/R

• Time: ~3 h ascent, 1 h 45 descent (without long breaks)

• Difficulty: Long, constant uphill; no technical sections

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It was announcing rain, but I needed to reflect – a close relative was ill in the hospital – so I decided to go hiking anyway. Monte Serva felt like the perfect hike for the purpose. Close, only 15 min from Belluno, and long enough with 1,270 m elevation gain to clear my head. Good to think.

The hike starts at Col di Roanza, 850 m, where you can park behind the bar. You set off on the road at the end of the parking lot. There’s also a gravel shortcut via trails on the left, but it’s not well marked – I think the road is better.

After about 20 min you reach a panel clearly indicating Monte Serva uphill on a trail. From here, the path becomes steeper. Not brutally steep, but constant, and it doesn’t let go until the end. In another 15 min you exit the forest and already see your goal: the summit, high above a continuous grassy slope.

This section winds through bushes, then turns right and reenters the forest. Here the gradient kicks up a notch. The day I went, with heavy clouds looming, the forest felt almost gloomy. After another 15–20 min you leave the trees behind – the last you’ll see for a while.

From now on, clouds aren’t great, but full summer sun isn’t either: the second half of this hike offers zero shade. The reward? As soon as you exit the forest, the valley opens wide below. A few minutes later you reach a lonely bench viewpoint before continuing on a grassy ridge where the slope briefly relents.

After about 15 min you reach a flat where a herd of sheep was grazing when I passed – roughly the halfway point. On your left stretches the Schiara ridge, with its iconic Gusela rock finger (which I wrote about in my Settimo Alpini post). That day, mystic clouds were climbing the mountain slopes below me, wrapping the scene in a surreal atmosphere.

From the flat, the path cuts diagonally left across the slope before aiming straight up again. In about 20–30 min you reach Casera Pian dei Fioch, a small bivouac just under the summit slope. The announced rain had still not arrived, though the sky was far from reassuring. The summit cross was visible, and even with 900 m of elevation already in my legs, I decided to push on.

To rech the summit you need to pass through the bivouac gate exit the other side. After a series of switchbacks starts: first wide, then narrower, and increasingly steep. About 20 min later, the cross that was in sight vanishes as the slope steepens and the path becomes rocky. Views of the Schiara ridge and Serva’s own ridges open around you. The summit was still miraculously cloud-free, but thunder started roaring. At around 2,000 m – just 15 min from the top – the clouds finally swallowed the peak and light rain began. Tired and wary of the storm, I almost turned back, but being so close, I couldn’t.

Shell on, I continued. The last 100 m are grassy again, and the cross reappears only at the very end. At 2,133 m, I reached the top in just over 3 hours. The cross itself is nothing special, and the panorama… well, there should have been Dolomites, but there were only clouds. In any case it's some time that I don't hike for the panorama, that is just a nice bonus when there is. With rain intensifying and worse clearly coming, I stayed just one minute to catch my breath before starting the descent.

Opening tAfter 20 min, halfway back to the bivouac, the rain strengthened. I shoved my phone and wallet into a plastic bag just as it began to pour. Luckily, I was only 5 min from the hut and reached it wet, but not soaked: no puddles in the shoes and my “super waterproof, 4,000 m-proof” shell had earned its keep.

he gate, I rounded the hut and peeked into the open door. Inside, a shepherd sat by the stove, watching a small TV. I asked if I could come in. He muttered it was closed but “okay,” adding, peppering around the usual Veneto blasphemies, “Haven’t you seen the forecast?” Very folkloristic. I asked for a chair and got a grunt of assent. The bivouac was officially closed for alpage season; a big kettle simmered on the stove (which I was not offered).

Soon three German hikers arrived, completely unprepared in shorts and trainers. He didn’t let them in; they huddled under the plastic roof outside. We exchanged a few words. Despite the cold welcome, the scene felt strangely painterly – the shepherd staring through a cloud of smoke out the window like a Van Gogh character, isolated from the world. I put below the "stolen" picture even if it is bad quality to give the atmosphere.

I caught some heat by the door while outside it poured. After 30 min the rain eased, and the shepherd confirmed it would hold before heading out to his sheep with his three wolf-guarding dogs. We said goodbye and descended briskly.

The same path back, no stops. In the upper section the clouds began to lift; the views returned in dramatic bursts as light and mist played over the ridges. By the time I entered the forest, the rain had stopped entirely, and when I reached the car about 1 h 15 after leaving the bivouac, the summit was clear, the sun shining and my mind a bit clearer too.