Lake Garda is the largest lake in Italy. It was formed by a glacier at the end of the last ice age. I had never heard of it before working with Carrie Stachnik of Magnolia Travel Group to plan a recent visit. My first article about the trip, My Leather Pants, was written on the train between destinations on my phone. I expect in addition to the one you are reading, you will see another story or two originating from this adventure with my oldest daughter, which was my first time in Europe since I was a 23-year-old law student.
I had originally hoped to see Lake Como, but because we also wanted to go into the Dolomite Mountains located at the very top of the country, Lake Garda made more sense from a logistical perspective. Lake Garda’s shoreline is divided between the provinces of Brescia, Verona and Trentino, and it has somewhat of an axe or ladle shape. You may form a more phallic opinion if you look at the lake on a map, and the locals would agree, as limoncello is sold by the gallons in glass containers in the shape of “the lake.”
To say we were tired when we arrived at Lake Garda would be an understatement. In fact, when we hopped off the train at the Desenzano Del Garda-Sirmione station, I thought we had made a grave mistake, as the area of town seemed sketchy, and the weather looked equally undesirable. Thankfully, as our taxi got closer to the water, things started to look up. Although there was so much pedestrian traffic, our driver decided to drop us off an unreasonable distance from the hotel, especially considering the amount of luggage we were wrangling. Once we finally settled in and the delirium of the early morning travel subsided with lunch and an espresso, I was captivated by the beauty of the water, and arranged at the front desk for my daughter and I to enjoy a boat ride the following day when the weather forecast was better.
Our boat captain, Fabrizio or “Fabry”, wore his Garda Tours hat turned backwards and was a foot shorter than me. The best word I can use to describe Fabry is joyful. When we turned the corner of the peninsula into the open water, we witnessed the foothills of the Alps which surround the narrower portion of the lago previously hidden from our vantagepoint. The beauty was instantaneously mood elevating. In Fabry’s broken English, for which he profusely apologized, he explained how the water was a different color every time he hosted a tour. He told us all about the Isola dei Conigli or “Island of the Rabbits”, and the Grottoes of Catullus, which are the ruins of a Roman villa constructed around the time of Christ. He also showed us bubbles from the Boiola Spring located at the bottom of the lake from which sulphurous hot waters flow and is the reason there are so many spas on the peninsula. The word “spa” is an acronym created from the Latin phrase salus per aquam or “health from water.” If you have read any of my wellness content, you know I am a fan of a good spa.
When our tour was over, we thanked Fabry and opted to relax on the hotel deck which has a single row of patio chairs where guests bask in the sun, enjoying western facing views of the lake and the village called Desenzano del Garda. As the afternoon sun beat down, Mollie and I wanted to take a dip, but the narrow pier was being used by three girls who were stair stepped in height and resembled one another. I purchased a new pair of swim goggles after we booked our trip, intending to enjoy an open water swim in Garda and later in the Ligurian Sea at Cinque Terra. As we waited on the girls to finish their time on the pier, we watched a mom and her baby ducks, and chatted with a group of women from England who were drinking a Pimm’s Lemonade, which according to my new friends, is what the British enjoy on the rare occasion they see the sunshine.
It eventually became evident the girls were not going to be leaving the jetty any time soon, so Mollie and I decided to join them. In a pleasant exchange we learned they were sisters from Melbourne, Australia —18, 15 and 13. The youngest had lost a “very expensive” ring. They were a bit frantic. I overheard one say, “I wish we had some goggles”, so I offered the new ones I had purchased for the trip. The sister who made the statement happily accepted, and she started diving again. Meanwhile, Mollie and I cooled off in the cerulean waters. Eventually, as the sisters were not having any luck, I offered to take a turn. They thanked me and handed back my goggles.
I could not see a thing.
I swam back up and explained my limited vision to the sisters, and they told me one could see better at the very bottom. I went back down, but quickly surmised the Aussie sisters were on a futile mission, as the bottom of the lake was scattered with millions of tiny shells, rocks and debris. Finding the ring would be the proverbial needle in a haystack. But instead of dampening their enthusiasm for the mission, I told them to keep the googles if they liked, and I showed them where we were sitting, wishing them luck.
When we returned to our chairs, we watched, quietly hoping for a miracle. Taking turns with the goggles, the girls continued to dive and scour the bottom of Lake Garda. Eventually, the youngest retired to the end of the deck, where the steps met the water. She sat with her head toward her knees, her face covered by her hands. Notwithstanding the hopelessness of the ring owner, the older two kept diving – over and over and over again, they dove and searched.
When the reality of the circumstances became evident, the siblings finally gave up. As they exited the water, I witnessed the youngest squeeze each big sister in a tight hug, clearly thanking them for their efforts to search for the lost ring. Eventually, the group of three slowly made their way toward Mollie and me. Their heads were down.
“You didn’t find it, did you?” I said in my most compassionate dad voice.
“Naur,” said the youngest in her Aussie dialect, reaching out her hand to return my brand-new goggles.
“Keep them”, I said. “Maybe you can look some more later.”
“Thank you.”
“Where is your mom?”, I asked.
“She’s having a sleep,” the oldest responded.
“What’s her name?”
“Mum’s name is Jackie.”
“If I get a chance to see Jackie around the hotel, I’ll explain how you girls teamed up and helped one another. Although she might be upset about the missing ring, I think she’ll be proud of your teamwork and dedication to each other.”
While the youngest sister lost her ring, a ring –no matter how expensive, is only an object. It is replaceable. What these girls found when they came together to help their baby sister is priceless, because relationships are always more valuable than things. While I never saw Jackie to tell her about what her girls lost and then found, I have told many people (and now you) about the three Australian sisters. Oftentimes helping another person is more about the effort than the result. While the word “expensive” is relative, coming together to help another human being, especially one with shared DNA, is universally worth its weight in gold.
As a Mississippi divorce attorney for the past 25 years, I have witnessed countless family crises, like that experienced by the three Australian sisters. Almost always, there is way more at stake than an “expensive ring”, although I guess everyone who gets a divorce loses a ring, or at least the relationship it represents. This is, of course, what makes divorce so difficult, because something of value is now gone.
I have also been blown away by the support families of origin give one another when one of their own is in crisis, even if their “something” is only an expectation or ideal of the way things should have been.
I never saw the Australian sisters after our last exchange, but I imagine if one of those girls experiences a loss in the future, they will be right by one another’s side. I encourage you to learn the lesson from these Aussie girls about coming around a loved one who loses something, whether it is an object, relationship, person, job or marriage, because people are important. You can make a real difference if you keep going to the bottom with them, no matter how impossible the task may seem.
Craig Robertson, the founder of Robertson + Easterling, has dedicated over 25 years to practicing high net worth divorce and complex family law in Mississippi. His approach extends beyond legal counsel, offering support to clients through the intricate and emotionally challenging journey of divorce. He provides compassionate and empathetic assistance to those navigating the path to healing.
