Passo dello Stelvio

In signing up for this tour, I was at last fulfilling a dream to cycle in Europe. When I realized that I might have a chance to climb the legendary Stelvio Pass, I was thrilled. Now, I sincerely hoped that I had not burned out my legs on the Mortirolo loop.

It would be straightforward for us to approach the summit from Bormio; while I am sure that would be beautiful, the classic approach is from Prato allo Stelvio. The logistics would be a burden, but our host made it happen. He dispatched a few strong riders to tackle the climb yesterday, reducing the size of our group to fit into two vehicles laden with bicycles today.

We drove through Bormio and up to the summit of the Umbrail Pass. There, we bundled up and descended to the valley, passing through the town of Santa Maria (Switzerland) and looping back into Italy to start the famous climb from Prato allo Stelvio.

Ever the laggard going uphill, my plan was to descend as rapidly as possible to get ahead of the group before we started to ascend. We were warned to expect one unpaved section of road (a mile of packed gravel) on the way down. I was especially cautious there; one rider caught and passed me, but nonetheless I was the first to reach the valley. [Not having seen me descend until now, my fellow riders were surprised. "You were en pointe, the whole way down!" Nice way to put it. I smiled.]

At the border, the Italians waved us through, and I booked it all the way to Prato—where I promptly headed in the wrong direction. Having stopped for a bio break, I was separated from the rest of the pack and never saw the last sign toward the pass. (Evidently it was easy to miss, being somewhat obscured by a tree.) I approached a couple of guys in a parking lot, and they happily sent me in the right direction.

More than any other climb on this trip, I wanted to complete this one. I started going up; my legs felt surprisingly strong! I began to believe that I could do it. I have certainly done more climbing in a day than this would require, but not over such a short distance.

There are 48 switchbacks on the way to the top, and each turn is numbered. I rounded switchback number 48 after about 4 miles. Warmed by the effort, I had already peeled off my outer layer. Up to that point, the average grade was 6%; almost eleven miles remained, with an average grade of 7.9%.

The road is carefully maintained, smooth pavement swept clear of gravel and rocks. I quickly found a source of acceleration in taking the right line through each hairpin—every little bit of energy helps. About two thirds of the way up, the Berghotel Franzenshöhe serves the best apple strudel imaginable—my single portion filled a dinner-sized plate and sustained me over the rest of the climb.

Many cyclists passed me along the way, but as I drew nearer to the summit, it was my turn to pass. Endurance, I have. I am sure the diminishing concentration of oxygen slowed me further, but I reached 8,300 feet before I noticed. Painted marks on the road counted down the distance remaining: 6k ... 5k ... At hairpin number 1, I lingered in a state of awe.

There is quite a festival at the top of the Stelvio Pass: food, souvenirs, proud and exhausted cyclists, and plenty of tourists.

I traveled 38 miles by bike, climbing 6,040 feet along the way—virtually all of that climbing was packed into the last 15 miles. I am stunned to say this: It felt great! Which means, of course, that I should have ridden at a faster pace.

Next time ...