Have you ever chosen a destination for the experience you think you’re going to have… only to find it becomes something slightly different but far more enriching?

Gais was like that.

After a week in San Floriano del Collio, near the Slovenian border, we pointed the car north and began the steady climb towards The Alps. The landscape gradually changed from rolling pastures to steeper slopes and the further north we travelled, the more alpine it became, with the promise of the Dolomites getting closer and closer.

This next leg of our travels was meant to be slower, quieter. We weren’t looking for a postcard town or a busy resort with lots to do. We had deliberately chosen somewhere well away from anything touristy. We wanted space, stillness, a place that felt just a little off the radar.

That’s what led us to Gais, a small rural village surrounded by productive farmland, tucked into a corner of the Puster Valley up near the Austrian border, but still in Italy. It wasn’t a place that felt exciting, glamorous or adventurous. Rather, it revealed itself slowly, in a quiet, understated way. And that was exactly why we chose it: for the promise of quiet rural alpime valleys, forest walks, crisp spring air and uninterrupted views. A place to breathe.

It delivered all of that, but also something less tangible, something we couldn’t quite put our finger on. To our surprise, our cheerful “buongiorno” on arrival was met with a warm “guten morgen”, revealing an entirely German-speaking community and our first real glimpse into the layered cultural identity of this little corner of Italy.

The village felt self-contained, almost like a world of its own. It was neat, orderly and peaceful. People were friendly and polite, going about their business, yet there was a gentle distance, as though we were accepted as observers more than participants in their village life. But, it never felt unwelcoming. Far from it. It had a feel that life in Gais ran on its own unique rhythm, just slightly out of reach of visitors.

We loved it!

In the centre of town stood a large farmhouse unlike anything we were used to seeing, especially banked by roads on all sides. Peering quickly through the windows as we walked past, we could see and hear cows shuffling and mooing beneath the living quarters, their strong manure scent drifting out through tiny side windows, while a tractor sat parked on the upper level beside the family apartment. It wasn’t a staged or preserved site for tourists. It was an example of everyday life, depicting an alpine way of living that had transitioned into modern life without losing its authenticity, where home, work, animals and land had existed side by side for generations.

Our AirBnB was located at the top end of the town right on the edge of the alpine forest, next to hiking trails that took you up in the hills, giving spectacular views and a panoramic glimpse of life in this tiny corner of Italy. The apartment was very comfortable, well appointed and felt like home. My work desk had the best views – tranquil, green and expansive.

A network of well-marked trails wound through the forests and into the surrounding mountains up behind out apartment and beyond, inviting slow half-day walks close to the village which were easy to navigate, while also offering longer, more challenging routes for those with the time and gear to go further into the alpine terrain.

Between Past & Present

Part way through one of our walks above Gais, we came across a stone building that had once been part of an old hydro-electric facility. This had been repurposed as a studio for artists. There was’t a soul arround so we peered through windows to discover a quiet space of creativity inside, with examples of their work, mostly wood carvings, surrounding the building and flowing into the gardens.

Set just below the building was a well set out herb garden dedicated to Sebastian Kneipp, a 19th-century Bavarian priest who developed a system of natural healing built around five pillars. In many ways, his philosophy mirrored the principles of naturopathic practice I work with, and I felt an immediate sense of connection to the space. I could have wandered slowly through that garden for hours, simply taking in the plants, the stillness, and the philosophy behind it all.

The views were constantly changing as low cloud moved continually across the mountains, revealing and concealing the landscape each time the sun briefly broke through.

Prettau/Predoi – Copper Mine

One morning we drove about 45 minutes north from Gais into the remote reaches of the Ahrntal Valley to visit an old copper mine. Copper mining here dates back to at least the 1400s. For centuries, the mine was the economic heart of the valley, employing much of the local male population before finally closing in the late 19th century, although some operations continued into the 20th century.

Climbing aboard the small mine train, we travelled more than a kilometre into the mountain through the St. Ignaz tunnel, the darkness and cold air swallowing us surprisingly quickly. Deep underground, the scale of the work became difficult to comprehend. These tunnels were carved slowly into solid rock by miners working in freezing, damp and dangerous conditions, often with little more than hand tools, black powder and oil lamps. Cave-ins, poor air, exhaustion and injury were simply accepted as part of daily life. Entire communities depended on the mine, and generations of men spent their working lives beneath these mountains.

Standing deep inside the mountain, it was impossible not to feel both fascinated, unsettled and horrified at the conditions they must have endured, giving us a further glimpse into the hard, self-sufficient alpine life that seemed to quietly underpin this entire region.

The former copper mine is also home to the Climate Gallery Prettau, a unique underground respiratory therapy centre built within the old mining tunnels. Around a kilometre inside the mountain, the mine maintains a naturally stable microclimate with cool temperatures of around 8–10°C, extremely pure air, high humidity and almost no pollen, dust or allergens. For people living with asthma, chronic bronchitis, allergies and other respiratory conditions, visitors spend hours underground simply resting and breathing the air as part of a therapy known as speleotherapy or cave therapy.

Watching people quietly disembark from the little train carrying blankets, books and thermoses into the darkness was something we hadn’t expected.

Gasthof Huber Inn

Another day found us taking a short drive of around 20 minutes up onto the ridge above Gais, where we stopped for lunch at Gasthof Huber, a traditional alpine inn overlooking the valley towards Bruneck. From the venue, the view dropped steeply away and stretched wide across the Puster Valley, with layers of mountain ranges in the distance.

The meal itself was distinctly Austrian in influence. It was hearty, simple with a dash of gourmet, and genuinely delicious. The food was memorable but it was also the setting that stood out, giving us the sense that we were far from customary Italian cuisine, and even further from home.

Castel Neuhaus, Gais

We could see the Castel Nauhaus from town so one day we set off from the village crossing the river and headed towards the Castel. The road began to climb, first gently, then with a steadier incline. The road was quite steep in parts, winding its way upwards through the hills, but the effort was more than rewarded when we reached the castle.

Castel Neuhaus (Schloss Neuhaus) dates back to the medieval period, likely around the 13th–14th century, when it was built as a small noble residence overlooking the Puster Valley rather than as a large defensive fortress. Its position above Gais gave it control of local routes and farmland, linking it to the broader network of estates that shaped life in the valley for centuries.

At the heart of Castel Neuhaus, the small chapel sits quietly among the old stone walls, simple, understated, and still carrying a sense of reverence. You could feel the centuries of stories, both tragic and joyful, held within its walls.

Walking is the best way to lean into the feel and quirkiness of a town or city, and Gais gave us ample opportunity to do that, and to stumble across very strange random discoveries along the way like this – no sign, no explanation. Makes you think!

Bruneck

A day spent in Bruneck offered a different perspective on life in South Tyrol and only a few minutes drive away. While Gais felt quiet, rural and tucked away, Bruneck was lively and sophisticated with modern amenities, without losing its alpine character.

The town was founded in the 13th century by the Prince-Bishop of Brixen, and grew as a market centre serving the surrounding valleys and remains one of the most important towns in the Puster Valley today. Its colourful buildings, cobbled streets, arcaded shopping areas and bustling cafés create a distinctly Central European atmosphere that feels far more Austrian than you would expect from Italy and the German language adds that little bit more intrigue.

Perched on the hill above town is Bruneck Castle (Schloss Bruneck), built around 1250 by Prince-Bishop Bruno von Kirchberg, from whom the town gets its name. Originally constructed to defend the valley and protect important trade routes, it now houses one of the mountain museums created by Reinhold Messner, the legendary South Tyrolean climber famous for being the first person to climb all fourteen of the world’s 8,000-metre peaks without supplemental oxygen.

The walk up to the castle from the town centre rewards you with glimpses of the town that gradually open across the rooftops of Bruneck and the surrounding mountains. From the castle grounds, the views stretche across the Puster Valley. Beautiful.

Eventually, it was time to leave South Tyrol, and on reflection, our ten days there gave us far more than we had anticipated. We arrived seeking mountain walks, quiet valleys and alpine scenery, but left with a deeper appreciation of a way of life that felt completely foreign in a good way.

Whether it was spending a day amongst the enthusiastic cross-country cycling community during a local event, watching a procession of more than 200 men (without a woman in sight) slowly make its way through the village chanting behind leaders carrying a large wooden cross, observing farmers tending their fields from our balcony, or simply navigating everyday life without the luxury of speaking the local language, each experience revealed another layer of this unique corner of Italy.

Gais was more than a base from which to explore the Dolomites for us. It gave us a glimpse into a close-knit community shaped by tradition, faith, hard work and a strong sense of place. Long after the specific details of walks and meals have faded, it’s the feeling of having briefly stepped into another world that remains one of our strongest memories.

Catherine & Jeff