Yesterday we took the road from the Veneto plains and drove up by a twisty mountain road to reach an incredible plateau or tableland called the Cansiglio.

The Cansiglio is essentially a limestone mountain plateau surrounded by the higher peaks of the Southern Dolomites and Prealps. I was trying to work out how this extraordinary area was actually formed. It goes back millions of years, of course, to geological uplift and to the action of water dissolving the limestone, producing the characteristic karst landscape. There are hollows, dolines, sinkholes, caves and underground drainage systems, many of which you would never guess were there as you drive across the apparently peaceful landscape.

Then there is the forest. The wonderful beech and pine forests which cover much of the Cansiglio are partly natural, but the woodland has also been shaped by centuries of human management. The Venetian Republic was particularly interested in the Cansiglio because it needed timber, especially for shipbuilding. The forest became an important source of wood for the Venetian fleet and was consequently very carefully protected and managed.

There is another fascinating part of the Cansiglio’s history: the Cimbrian people. These were German-speaking communities who settled in the area and developed their own distinctive culture, traditionally associated with forestry, woodworking and the exploitation of the mountain forest.

Things have changed slightly since then. The Venetian Republic no longer needs the Cansiglio to build its ships, having been rather unceremoniously swept away by Napoleon following the Treaty of Campo Formio in 1797. A horrible bloke, really, when you think about it.

Today the Cansiglio is a wonderful mixture of forest, open pasture, sinkholes and traditional malghe. Malghe are the mountain buildings where cattle are taken to graze during the summer months, and where traditionally the milk is turned into the characteristic cheeses of the mountain areas.

And this is what makes the Cansiglio so remarkable. You can drive through dense woodland and, quite suddenly, emerge into enormous expanses of wonderfully green alpine pasture. There is something almost theatrical about it. Within ten or fifteen minutes you can go from the undulating country around Vittorio Veneto to a completely different mountain world.

I have known this area for years, and on one occasion, several years ago, I actually took that famous rickety bicycle of mine — the same famous rickety bicycle that I once took all the way to Follina — and cycled up to the Cansiglio.

Now, Vittorio Veneto is at roughly 150 metres above sea level, while the Cansiglio plateau is around 1,000 metres and, in places, considerably higher. So that was quite a bit of pedalling.

But I didn’t stop when I reached the Cansiglio.

No. I carried on.

Eventually I found a route towards one of the higher peaks of the Pre-Dolomites, Monte Cavallo, which rises to 2,251 metres (7,385 feet) above sea level, and decided, for reasons which now escape me, that I would tackle the mountain by myself. I have always rather liked tackling mountains by myself, although nowadays I would probably regard the idea with considerably more caution. At the time, however, off I went.

I reached the top hoping for a magnificent view over the surrounding countryside. Unfortunately, the clouds had other ideas. They closed in and the great panorama disappeared.

There was, fortunately, a rifugio nearby, and I managed to make a radio phone call to Sandra who stayed below. I remember ringing to say that I was coming down — which, in fact, I did.

Looking back, I suppose it was quite a remarkable thing to have done. I certainly wouldn’t have the energy to cycle up there and then climb Monte Cavallo today. I might manage the telephone call.

But yesterday it was wonderful simply to be back in the Cansiglio.

The skies were an extraordinary blue, the pastures an almost impossibly brilliant green, and the great beech and pine forests surrounding them looked magnificent. The woods are full of wildlife — deer, and even wolves — while high above us eagles and other birds of prey were making use of the thermal currents rising from the mountains.

It is difficult to imagine anything more pristinely beautiful.

After all those years, it was great to be back.