"Watch your step," Dave said. Probably because his lawyers told him he has to, the same way McDonald's has to tell you "this coffee is hot."
Another few hundred yards of walking beside death and we reached the trail's first cable. Dave told me to clip in one carabiner at a time ("In case you slip while you’re fastening them," he added). As I locked in, I noticed the trail seemed to disappear a few yards ahead. In its place: a giant boulder the cord stretched across.
"So, we just fly around that boulder?" I asked Dave.
"Sort of," he said, smiling. Dave walked ahead, attached to the cord, and put his leg around the boulder, kind of hugging it with his lower body. "You just put your foot on this foothold on the other side, and slide yourself around." He said it calmly, as if he were explaining how to operate a can opener. That's 500ft of nothing under you there, Dave, and all that stands between you and it is a boulder that's being unsuspectingly humped.
Then again, once you're on the via ferrata, your options are to slide around a boulder jutting out over a ledge, or turn around and go home like a baby. Really, there is no choice. I stepped up to the boulder, moved my carabiners onto the hook, and reached my leg around the rough rock until I felt the foothold.