Doing Hard Things in the Dolomites: A Photography Retreat Tale

In August 2025, I packed my bags and flew solo to the Dolomites for an elopement photography retreat and honestly, the decision was made on pure vibes and fate.

I bought my ticket back in March on a complete whim while I was in a COVID stupor. A bride had just paid her wedding in full, I saw an ad for this workshop days later, and I thought, why not reinvest in a once in a lifetime experience? I’d always wanted to go to the Dolomites, and the timing felt too perfect to ignore.

After a few group Zoom calls and months of planning, it was finally time to leave. I was definitely nervous. The last time I traveled alone to Italy for a workshop, I had a genuinely traumatic travel experience, one I won’t even unpack here. But this time, I felt more prepared. I’d been there, done that, and knew what to expect (or so I thought).

The flight itself went smoothly. I lucked out with an empty middle seat in economy, had a super chill row buddy, and arrived in Milan feeling cautiously optimistic. After grabbing my bags, I decided to save some money and take the train instead of a taxi since my hotel was supposedly a five-minute walk from the station.

That decision immediately humbled me.

I boarded the wrong train and didn’t realize it until I hit the end of the line. By then, I’d been awake for almost 24 hours and hadn’t eaten in hours. Eventually, I made it to my hotel and thankfully, the rest of the travel experience was far less stressful from there on out.

Our group stayed at a beautiful hotel in Bolzano and spent two full days commuting by rental car for styled shoots throughout the Dolomites. I’ll be honest right away: this workshop was not what I expected. I imagined slower mornings, more reflection, and time to review our work or edit together.

Instead, it was nonstop from 4 a.m. to 10 p.m. both days. My body and mental health were truly tested, but the experience was still unforgettable in ways I didn’t anticipate.

Here’s a peek into the highlights of those two intense days in the Dolomites.

Private vows at Seceda

Day One: Lago Di Braies & Seceda

Day one of our shoot days was eventful. We were up and at ’em at 4 a.m., heading straight to Lago di Braies for a cute boat elopement moment. The drive was long, but physically, this shoot was probably the easiest one we did.

The real challenge? Avoiding the millions of tourists trying to wander into our shots.

After that, we grabbed lunch and headed to our second location of the day: Seceda. I had absolutely no idea what I was getting myself into with this one. We took multiple cable cars wayyyy up into the mountains and every time I thought, okay, this must be the top, we’d hop onto an even bigger cable car that took us higher.

In my head, I guess I didn’t fully register that we’d be that far up in the mountains. I also do not do well with heights, so that one’s on me for assuming. Cue me on the cable car with sweaty palms, slightly tweaking out.

Once we reached the top, though, I was completely blown away. The views were unreal truly one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen. I’m also very happy to report that I did not get altitude sickness, which I’ve struggled with on past trips to Utah, so that was a huge relief.

The first portion of the shoot was a private vow reading and getting-ready moment. After that, we hiked up a massive hill one I lowkey thought might take me out to reach the second location for the elopement portion.

I didn’t actually go all the way to that final spot. Truthfully, it was on a steep slope past a very clear “do not enter” sign, and all I could picture was myself slipping and flying down the mountain. So I happily observed from below with a few other girls and called that a personal win.

Overall, day one wasn’t the most intense of the trip but hiking steep hills with about 40 pounds of gear on my back while being wildly out of shape? Absolutely a doozy.

Day Two: Cadini di Misurina & Alpe Di Siusi

Day two was the day that tested me more than any other.

For some backstory: the night before, during our group education session, we asked the workshop leader what the hiking would be like at our first location. We were all feeling pretty beat up after day one, and she told us it would only be about a mile in and a mile out, with elevation that “wasn’t too crazy.”

So naturally, I was expecting a fairly easy trek.

I was very wrong.

We were back up at 4 a.m. again and drove about two hours through winding mountain roads to Cadini. Quick shoutout to our driver, Tori she absolutely ate those drives and got us everywhere safely.

We arrive, and before anything else, my friends and I need to use the bathroom. We pay to use the toilet (very normal in Europe), except plot twist: this “toilet” was literally a hole in the ground with two bars on either side that you hold onto while squatting.

I’ve been in McDonald’s bathrooms that were a better experience and I didn’t pay two euros to use them. So… not off to a great start.

Once we regrouped, we set off on the hike. Immediately, we’re heading down a steep, gravel-covered hill. I have zero hiking gear, about 40 pounds of camera gear on my back, and I’m sliding all over the place. The only way I could get down without completely eating it was to sit on my butt and slide.

So there I am, in my thin American Eagle biker shorts, getting a rocky surprise directly to my butt cheeks. A strong start, honestly.

From there, we had to hike up an equally steep, gravelly hill. I’m sliding while walking both up and down, my muscles and lungs working overtime. I’m running on almost no sleep and barely any food at this point, and it is rough.

Just when I think we’ve reached our spot… Surprise! we keep going. The path narrows into a super slim, slippery trail where one wrong move would essentially send you tumbling down a mountain. That’s when I fully started to unravel.

I had a literal mental breakdown. I started imagining myself falling, never seeing my family again, and wondering how someone would even call my mom to tell her I died. It got dark fast.

Eventually, I reached a spot where I could sit down, and I just started bawling. I couldn’t stand up straight if I tried, my knees were buckling from anxiety. My resting heart rate was around 120 BPM, and I was completely out of it. To make things better, we were so high up that I started getting a wicked sunburn… because for some reason, I didn’t think to put on sunscreen.

That shoot was, hands down, the worst of the trip for me. I didn’t get many usable images because I felt so unwell, and there were also some logistical issues that didn’t help. Thankfully, another workshop participant was incredibly kind and walked back down the mountain with me before everyone else left so we could take our time and let my anxiety settle.

Once I made it back down, the sense of relief was overwhelming. As awful as that moment was, it gave me a huge mindset shift one I’ll expand on more in the conclusion.

As the day went on and we moved into our final shoots, I was completely worn down and not feeling great at all. I pulled together what little energy I had left to participate, but I also started feeling sick and assumed it was just my allergies.

Spoiler alert: it was pneumonia and a double ear infection. Love that for me.

After day two, we had a free day, and then the friends I met at the retreat and I headed to Florence for a couple of days. It was definitely dampened by my impending pneumonia, but I could still hang a little and honestly, that felt like a win at that point.

What I Learned :

I don’t want this blog post to feel like a negativity fest there is a point to all of this, I promise.

I went into this workshop with a very specific vision of what I thought it would be versus what it actually was. I had dreams, expectations, and ideas of how the experience would feel, and one by one, those expectations kept getting challenged. I was struggling physically and mentally, and I was genuinely upset that this was the reality. I wished, more than anything, that it had been different.

But at some point, I realized I couldn’t just sit there and dwell on it. I had to find the positives even if it took a while to see the full picture. I caught myself beating myself up and quietly questioning the universe. Why did I spend all that money just to get essentially tortured in the mountains? I thought this trip was fate… and instead, it kind of rocked me.

Here’s the thing about me, I’ve struggled with anxiety and limiting beliefs for a long time. I often convince myself that I’m fragile, that I can’t handle hard things, that I’ll completely crumble or end up in a hospital if something pushes me too far.

But this was one of the most intense experiences of my life and I made it through.

From navigating a slippery, narrow mountain path with zero hiking gear and all my camera equipment threatening to take me out… to taking care of myself while sick in a foreign country… to traveling from Europe back to the U.S. with pneumonia and sprinting through an airport in Amsterdam just to make my connection. I survived all of it.

Even the moments where I thought I was genuinely going to need medical attention? I ended up okay.

That realization changed something in me.

I can do hard things. I have done hard things. I feel built different now stronger than the version of myself who boarded that plane to Milan.

And despite the chaos, there were so many good things too. I made two incredible friends who I still talk to weekly. I created stunning images for my portfolio. I experienced new cities across Europe. I treated myself to a beautiful hotel room in Florence, which felt especially healing while I was sick and in need of my own space.

So here’s my point: sometimes you go into something expecting it to be fun, comfortable, or easy and instead it feels like a complete disaster. You start questioning your decisions, yourself, and maybe even the universe.

But there’s often a lesson hiding in the mess.

These days, whenever I’m about to do something hard and feel that familiar hesitation creeping in, I tell myself:

At least I’m not on that damn mountain anymore.