Rising in the eastern sector of the Italian Alps is a famous group of outcroppings which the ancient inhabitants of the area, the Ladins, long referred to as Lis montes pàljes, meaning “the pale mountains”, due to the light hues of the rock in contrast to the darker tones of surrounding mountains. A Ladin legend has it that it was sylvan dwarves dwelling in the woods and caverns who caused those mountaintops to be lighter in colour by spinning moonbeams for weaving a bright diaphanous web around the peaks; they were said to have done this so that the daughter of the King of the Moon, who was the spouse of the king of the mountains, would not suffer pangs of homesickness for her faraway world, forever shining white. And the edelweiss which still survive here are said to be a gift of the princess brought from the Moon.
Those mountains are known around the world today as the Dolomites, but the new name, dating back little more than two hundred years and popular beginning only in the early 1900s, does not have an equally poetic origin. In fact, in 1789 Marquis Déodat de Dolomieu took a study trip to southern Tyrol, where along the road from Trento to Bolzano he collected samples of a light-coloured rock similar to limestone, but unlike this latter scarcely if at all reactive when bathed in hydrochloric acid. It was chemist Nicolas Théodore de Saussure who analysed those samples and discovered that they were composed of a mineral yet to be clearly identified, a calcium and magnesium carbonate to which he gave the name dolomite in honour of his friend, while the light-coloured rock that contained it was subsequently named dolomia.
When, in the second half of the 1800s the first English tourists and mountaineers discovered the fascination of the southern Tyrol mountains, they began to use in their travel accounts terms such as “Dolomite Mountains”, “Dolomite district” and “Dolomite region” suggested by the common presence of the rock comprising the major part of the splendid peaks of the pale mountains. Although somewhat contested, soon the new name took root with ‘Dolomites’ having entered common usage for some time now. This is a truly unique case where an entire region has taken its name from a mineral known only to a handful of specialists. The chief characteristic of scenery that in certain respects is truly unique in the Dolomite district is not, however, just the abundance of dolomia but rather the appearance of such rock in imposing isolated groupings surrounded by broad valleys. The origin of such configuration goes far back in time. Some 200 million years ago in a shallow sea which geologists refer to as Tetide, coral reefs began to form in the warm, agitated waters. Since the sea bottom was gradually lowering, the coral, seaweed and a myriad of other tiny organisms continued to raise their constructions in order to stay close to the light, just as we observe today in Pacific atolls. The rocks that originated in that teeming life were limestone and dolomia, which thus grew to a thickness of hundreds of metres.
Following a long period of the tranquil development of great reefs, the waters became troubled: numerous volcanoes had now become active, spreading products from eruptions over a wide area. Coral and seaweed became extinct and were covered over by lava and pyroclastics. When the sea turned clear again other limestone and dolomia formed, and the accumulated rocks further increased in thickness. Between one reef and the next, separated by large sounds and straits, various rocks were deposited which were generally softer, such as marl and sandstone.
With the rising of the Alps all these rocks were deformed and emerged from the sea. Then erosion came into play. The ancient reefs, slowly freed from the cover of other rocks, remained tall and isolated to form today the “Dolomite groupings”. This is why above the gentle rolling slopes of valley bottoms covered with meadows and dotted with woods, there abruptly arise the sheer walls of light-coloured rock, barren and stark. Only at sunset on clear days do those cliffs soften in appearance as they take on warm pinkish tones – a few moments of a strange and mysterious luminous reflection that never fails to enchant travellers as well as the local populace. Yet another ancient Ladin legend in fact relates that once upon a time those peaks were all covered with red roses, and were the kingdom of the Dwarves, a land where fabulous treasures were hidden and where King Laurino reigned. This lasted until one day King Laurino, in order to save his people from the envy of the valley peoples, cast a spell and the rose-garden was petrified into grey rock “so that it would be visible no more, either by day or by night”. But in casting the spell King Laurino forgot the twilight, which is no longer day but not yet night, and ever after for a brief moment, at sunset, the “rose-garden” comes back to life.
This legend, too, is fascinating, but for once perhaps reality outdoes it, because time truly has cast a spell on the Dolomites: it has crystallized forever a coral garden.