Married on a Mountain – Disaster in The Dolomites

Grey clouds, a new neckline, and a car that gave up before I could.

Let me take you back a bit…

You’ve spent your whole life imagining your perfect wedding day – something straight out of a fairytale. A stunning castle, twinkling fairy lights, clouds of gypsophila.
200 guests, an outdoor ceremony, your puppy proudly trotting down the aisle as the ring bearer, a live pianist playing an instrumental version of ‘Run Away with Me’ from The Mad Ones, and you’d sell your soul for an Allure Ariel D280 bridal gown. (Unfortunately, my plus-sized butt never got the memo!)

I’ve spent years professionally planning and running weddings – lots of them, from intimate gatherings of 3 to grand affairs with 300 guests. So, unsurprisingly, the novelty wore off somewhere between the 27th confetti toss and the 54th first dance to ‘Perfect’ by Ed Sheeran. Honestly, the idea of planning a wedding was more exciting than the actual day itself. The thought of researching venues, photographers, décor, music, and table plans was enough to send me diving into an Excel-induced coma (in the best of ways).
Thankfully, Chris managed to talk some sense into me. I eventually accepted that if left to my own devices, I’d end up spending our special day comparing the speed of food service or silently judging how the coordinator faded out my aisle music too quickly.

When Chris finally proposed, we had already settled on the idea of eloping. The original plan was to drive Route 66 through America and end with a symbolic ceremony in Santa Monica, but the events of 2020 had other ideas. In hindsight, this ended up being a blessing in disguise as I knew I absolutely could NOT get married without my right hand dog, Henry, by my side! So, there was only one option… ROAD TRIP!

Side note: You’ll notice Chris’ reactions aren’t mentioned much in this post. Please continue reading with the knowledge that my now, husband had no expectations and no strong opinions about how this day would go. All I had to do was promise Italian pizza and he was happy with whatever!

I planned most of our road trip DIY style, but I did end up booking our elopement ceremony through a company called Somewhere Crazy. They sourced the best local suppliers and scouted locations that matched our vision perfectly. They also included a wedding celebrant who doubled as our day-of translator and communicator because, sadly, my Italian isn’t exactly top tier! I paid extra for a photographer, hair & make up and a bouquet of flowers as well.

The original plan was to elope in the Swiss Alps. One of our favourite memories together is from 2018, when we drove from Rome, Italy to Bern, Switzerland and had to take a detour through the mountains due to cows blocking the road (naturally). We missed the Gotthard Pass entirely and instead found ourselves winding through the most stunning mountain route imaginable, eventually landing in a tiny village just off the pass, 6,750 feet above sea level. A thick blanket of fog covered the lake, giving off serious horror movie vibes… but the stillness and peace were unforgettable.

Sadly, Switzerland is expensive! We wanted to elope to save money, and getting married there definitely didn’t tick that box. So, we gave Somewhere Crazy our elopement wish list and asked them to work their magic.
Here’s what we were looking for:

• Drivable from the UK
• Outdoors in nature (I want to know I’ve left England)
• Dog friendly (Henry is non-negotiable)
• By water and scenic views (my mum doesn’t call me her little mermaid for nothing!)
• Private or semi-private (I liked the idea of a hidden gem)
• Minimal walking/hiking (I’m adventurous, but not in a wedding dress)

The lovely ladies at Somewhere Crazy suggested a ceremony in the Italian Dolomites and sent us a few dreamy location options to browse through. We ultimately chose to say our vows at Lago Boè in Corvara—a raw, untouched, and peaceful spot with a postcard-worthy mountain backdrop and a jewel-toned, sparkling lake.

Fast forward to Wednesday 13th September 2023…

Disclaimer: Yes, everything you are about to read really did happen to us! – Netflix, call me!

Strike one:

After spending the past week road-tripping through France, Switzerland, Austria, and Italy – soaking up the sun and basking in 28-degree heat, we opened the curtains of our panoramic suite that morning, expecting golden light and mountain views… and instead, were greeted by a wall of solid grey. Now, I knew the weather could be unpredictable – this isn’t my first rodeo (I’ve survived British summers, after all). But, if we’d gotten married just one day earlier or one day later, I would not be writing this blog post right now. That’s what I get for not believing in the curse of the 13th… lesson learned!

I received a whatsapp message that morning from our wedding coordinator, Jlenia, suggesting that it may not be possible to have our ceremony at Lago Boè that day due to the heavy fog – turns out, being able to see each other while saying “I do” is somewhat important. I let myself be disappointed for 5 seconds then left it down to the experts to find another scenic spot in the Italian Alps (like that’s hard…) with higher visibility. But let me tell you; I did. not. cry.

After quickly getting over the moody mountain weather, my hair and makeup team arrived. I was quite nervous about this part as it felt a bit odd getting all glammed up to walk into a field like a bridal woodland creature. Ultimately, I needed to look somewhat okay so for the photos that my mom will inevitably frame in her hallway.  
Also, let’s be real: as a plus-sized gal, it’s hard to picture yourself as that glowing, effortlessly beautiful bride when your pinterest is full of chiseled jawlines and tiny waists twirling in designer gowns. Imposter system was in full swing but deep down, I knew Chris would find me beautiful if I came down bald and in a potato sack.

Strike Two:
My hair and make up turned out lovely and Jlenia turned up to the hotel room with my gorgeous bouquet of flowers – seriously, I couldn’t have dreamed up anything better.
Chris was kicked out of the room with Henry and made to wait in the hotel reception so I could have some time alone to put on my wedding dress.
I head into our bedroom where my dress is hanging gracefully in its garment bag, looking nothing less than angelic. I unzip the bag and pull out the glittering gown I’d secretly steamed the night before (are you surprised though?). I take it off the hanger, unzip the side, and—because I was determined to do this solo—I decide to go for the “over the head” method. Arms through… head in… I’m shimmying it down over my chest when suddenly:

*Riiiip*

Oh. Crap.

My dress had inherited a new neckline. One that plunged its way all the way down to my belly button… I just stood there, half-dressed and mildly horrified, thinking: Well… at least Chris will appreciate it. But let me tell you; I did. not. cry.

For moral reasons, I will not be inserting photos of this dilemma..

Okay, this is the part where I have to take accountability. I ordered my dress online for £150 – bargain I know. It was a lovely dress and the glitter tulle was what I always wanted but I needed to spend some money on making it fit my curves, remove the exaggerated, floofy sleeves and tailor a new neckline to highlight a bit of décolletage.
Firstly, the seamstress specifically told me to step. into. the. dress. Apparently I think I’m above the wedding dress laws, being an independant woman and all.
Secondly, I am one of those people who avoids confrontation like the plague. Classic situation: you get something you’re not 100% thrilled with, but instead of speaking up, you smile, say “it’s beautiful,” and leave with a polite nod and a tiny smidge of disappointment. My seamstress was lovely, truly—but when I tried the dress on after the alterations, something just felt… off. Did I say anything? Of course not. I thanked her, paid, and walked out. She brought my vision to life, unfortunately that vision did not suit my body at all. My arms should have been covered, my waist band should have been wider and my décolletage stole the show a bit too much – think less “elegant plunge,” more “gravity doing the most.”
Thirdly, I see stray thread and it must be removed. Snip first and ask questions later. Little did I know, some of those stray threads were actually doing the Lords work and keeping those fabric panels together. Hindsight right…

Unfortunately, there was no fixing this. The fabric was too thin and delecate to be sewn or safety pinned without ripping it further. So, I did what any self-respecting, mildly panicked bride would do – I closed my eyes and let Jlenia take the scissors to it. It was either that or greeting my groom like a giant toddler in a sparkly bib.
I had to accept the cold, glittering truth that I was one sneeze away from indecent exposure in the middle of Corvara, Italy – not quite the romantic notion I had in mind.

So now it’s grey outside, my dress has been surgically modified in my hotel room and I’m relying on my bouquet of flowers to preserve what little modesty I have left – Seriously, these flowers were the unsung hero of the day 10/10.
At this point, I had no choice but to laugh, take a breath, and hope the mountains appreciated the chaos I was bringing. I just wanted to reunite with my groom and make him my husband.

Strike Three:

Next, we drove to the ski lifts, clinging to the false hope that the fog at the lake had miraculously lifted. Spoiler: it had not. After a few minutes of squinting into the mist like hopeful meerkats, we decided it was time to get on with our day and find a new slice of Alpine magic.

We started to make our way up Passo Gardena, a winding mountain pass, known as one of the most beautiful drives in Italy. The plan was to take a cable car up to a peaceful, scenic spot—just us, the dog, the sky, and endless green fields stretching into the distance. Sure, my dream of saying “I do” beside the water had floated away with the fog, but this was a nice enough plan B.

Unfortunately this plan was not destined to become a reality either. We drove up the mountain pass, higher and higher, taking in the views and laughing over our string of wedding-day plot twists. The sun is finally starting to show it’s face. Next thing I knew, we’re so high, we’re driving through a cloud! Only it wasn’t a cloud… it was smoke.

Our lovely Mercedes CLK AMG – my husbands pride and joy – had carried us over 900 miles from the UK to Italy without a hiccup. It was our trusty chariot for the happiest day of our lives – the happiest 3 weeks of our lives. But of course, at the main event, it decided it had had enough. Full on emotional breakdown. Hazards flashing, bonnet up, and a dramatic cloud of smoke flying from the engine. But let me tell you; I did. not. cry.

In a panic, Chris jumped out of the car and dove under the bonnet, channeling full Top Gear energy as he searched for the source of the problem. Meanwhile, I was frantically calling Jlenia and our photographer to turn around and come rescue us. I dropped them a Google Maps pin, and they were back down the mountain within minutes.

The radiator had blown.

From what I gather (after Chris delivered a less than detailed mechanics overview), the constant shifts in altitude over the past few days had built up pressure in the reservoir, eventually causing it to crack and give up entirely (just act like you know what I’m talking about…) And as it turns out—no radiator means no more driving. Our wedding was once again brought to a halt.

Apparently It’s not very safe to sit in a broken down car on the side of a mountain while it’s puffing out smoke, so while Chris rolled up his sleeves and promptly coated his freshly ironed shirt in engine oil, I was politely asked to evacuate the vehicle, with Henry in tow. I must say, our little ring bearer was an absolute angel throughout all the drama, I don’t know what I would have done without him! (I guess Chris helped too…)

And just like that… the rain starts to fall – Strike. Four.

Picture this: you’re standing on the side of a mountain road in your glitter tulle, A-line wedding dress, topped with an old, baby pink raincoat from Tesco. Cars are driving past gawking at this giant, sparkly, white marshmallow in sight, beeping their horns and shouting congratulations. If only they knew… we hadn’t even made it to the ceremony yet!
Thankfully I didn’t forget my Funny Girl ‘Don’t Rain on my Parade” umbrella from the boot – oh the irony!

This is the point where I started to cry – and deservedly so.

Seeing me lose any glimmer of hope on my wedding day , Jlenia escorted me and Henry to her car, away from our adoring fans passing by and out of the rain – I was not going have my hair and make up ruined as well!!
Jlenia got on the phone and called in a favour from her local garage connections. We had a tow truck arrive within 30 minutes (honestly, it really is who you know!).
At this point, I’d mentally checked out of the day entirely – but Jlenia wasn’t having it. Like an elopement MVP, she piled me, Chris, Henry, and our photographer into her car and drove us up the mountains to her family’s secluded alpine hut, charmingly named Utia Planfisti.
(Jlenia, if you’re ever reading this, I’m sorry again for the amount of glitter left in your car that afternoon. Chris is still finding it to this today.)

Before we bit the bullet and got the ceremony underway, we were taken to a quiet corner of the hut for some peace and quiet and time to grieve what could have been. A sweet Italian lady brought us over some tea but I was too heartbroken to enjoy mine. Henry, however, had a whale of a time! Plenty of fuss and treats, he fit right in with the Ladin locals.

Once the rain passed and the cloud started to disperse, we wondered outside onto a field surrounded by towering trees with the mountains at our fingertips. We didn’t have a lake, we didn’t have rolling views for miles on end – but we did have cows…
And those cows had beautiful bells around their necks, ringing as if they were serenading me down the aisle. Never will I wish for a live string quartet again.

So here’s the thing; Chris and I didn’t plan on writing our own vows but we received a checklist from Jlenia the night before with what to remember and what was number one on that list? – our vows!
We gave in an each wrote our vows to each other in the notes app on our phones, romantic I know! I still have my vows on hand to this day though.

With any expectations stripped away, we continued on with our ceremony. Just the two of us, Henry by our side, with no onlookers or photobombers. As Jlenia began reading her script, a huge wave of calm washed over the field.
Suddenly, all the chaos, the clouds, the car trouble… it no longer mattered. Knowing we’d navigated every road bump together, we felt more certain than ever that this was exactly how it was meant to be – Together, messy, glitter everywhere and a little ridiculous, but perfectly us.

Tears were shed and giggles were plenty throughout the ceremony. The words we exchanged that day will stay with us forever.
After the ceremony, we were driven back down to the village to capture some more scenic photos with the mountain we had just been standing on in the background. The grass looked greener, the sky turned bluer, and any pressure that had been looming over us that day had lifted.
We ended our day of madness back at our hotel room with champagne and pizza – my God we needed the champagne and pizza!!

I would love to say despite the challenges that came our way, this was the best day of my life but that simply was not the case. We chose to elope for a stress free experience and despite the efforts of our friends and vendors, this is far from what we encountered.

After our wedding day I spent the next 24 hours in our hotel room bed in floods of tears. I was heartbroken and embarrassed. Why did this have to happen to me? What did I do to deserve this?
Then the professional photos started coming in and I was mortified by half of them! (To be honest, having to look back through them for this post was hard.)
Nothing could console me, not Chris, not Henry, not even a swim in the panoramic pool – but sometimes you have to let yourself break and sink into the misery – Let it wash over you before you can come back up for air.

This was not the end of our disaster in The Dolomites, it was only just the beginning. The following days involved renting a hire car, changing our schedule and navigation plans, forking out £2000 for a new radiator and figuring out how on earth we were getting back to the UK in time for our legal ceremony and family reception. We were well and truly stranded. But those are stories for another day…

I hope this post reminds you that perfection is a myth, especially when it comes to weddings and even, elopements. Things will go wrong, and sometimes spectacularly so. But if you can laugh through the mishaps, cry when you need to, and end the day married to your best friend (ideally with pizza and prosecco in hand), then you’ve won.

More than anything, I hope this encourages someone out there to embrace the mess, love the imperfections, and remember that the real magic often lies in what doesn’t go to plan.

Special Shoutouts:

• Somewhere Crazy
• Dolomites Wedding Planner
• George Novac Photography
• Salon CreAtiv Hair & Makeup
• Irmis Art Florist
• The mechanic that came to the rescue and got our car back up and running so we could get home one time for the registry office! – with 24 hours to spare.