Saturday, July 19, 2025

Northern Italy road trip - debrief

Last time we saw Mum, we all agreed that it was hard to believe we'd barely been home two weeks.  For my part, I've really struggled to get back into the swing of things at work - not helped by pressures caused by my absence, and some pretty foul (cold and wet) weather.

Anyway, time to look back on what was an incredible trip.  This being a cycling blog, I'm going to try to keep it focused on what might be most interesting to contemplating a visit to northern Italy with bicycles.  


Vital statistics

We spent 23 nights in Italy, staying in 9 different spots:  Bormio (4 nights), Bellagio, Canazei, Paderno del Grappa and Edolo (3 nights each), Lorenzano di Cadore, Trieste and Malpensa (2 nights each), and a single night on the outskirts of Venice.  

Driving loop was clockwise:  Bellagio, Bormio, Canazei, L' di Cadore, Trieste, Dolo, P' del Grappa, Edolo, Milan


I logged 1236 kilometres, accumulated over 17 rides, with a duration of 78 hours.  Total climbing was about 26000 metres.  We had five rides over the 100km mark, with the longest being our last ride together over the Gavia and Mortirolo passes.  That ride was almost 3200m of climbing - not quite knocking the Umbrail-Stelvio loop off the top perch at 3400m.  We had two rides at 2800m, and another three around the 2000m mark!

To put all that into perspective, my total logged climbing in 2024 was about 100000m, so this three week trip was roughly a quarter of that annual total.  I'm very grateful we got away with it - both Sarah and I clearly have a lot of solid riding locked away in our legs, and they largely seem up to the task even if we don't manage to prepare well leading up to a trip.  


Road trip format

Other than a few family MTB holidays in New Zealand, I've had very little experience with cycling road trips.  Sarah, Khulan and I did try our hand at a campervan mission, visiting Tasmania in late 2023.  The fully supported Tour de France One Day Ahead trip in 2018 is another exception, but there I was treated like royalty and had a full logistics team around me, and never had to touch a steering wheel, let alone organise anything! 

The car was both a blessing and a curse.  

I'm comfortable driving on New Zealand roads, and while  fairly tolerant to road riding here, I shudder when thinking about the adjustment cycle tourists from Europe, Asia and any other "civilised" parts of the world will have to go through when they discover not only the absence of decent cycling infrastructure, but also the absence of a duty of care for more vulnerable road users.  

It is interesting to note a role reversal - during this trip, while riding I had well-founded confidence that other road users were going to do their utmost to keep me safe. On the other hand, behind the wheel, I found the highway speeds a bit hectic (130km/h a lot of the time), the roads narrow, and other drivers not that inclined to yield!  

After poring over online reviews, I finally settled on booking with Avis.  I'm sure it is in the fine print of the original contract, but there were a few extras (location surcharge in particular) that ensured the bill crept up well beyond the original "Estimated Total".  On the other hand, the fee for the damaged tyre (and tow) was very reasonable indeed, so I guess it's a case of win-some-lose-some.

While integral to the success of the holiday, that car ended up being about $200 NZ per day, and was was the source of occasional peak stress!  

Despite these grizzles, I did love discovering some of the epic tunnels up the valleys, and we'd have been oblivious to them without the car.  


Bicycles

We both road Open Cycle U.P. bikes in sweet Italian road mode, i.e. running 700c wheels with 32mm road tyres (GP 5000s for Sarah, and 4 Seasons/Gatorskin pair for me).  Our GRX groupsets were ample, and if anything, the gearing was way more suitable than compact road gearing would have been.

The only issues we had were with the brakes, which don't always take kindly to flying, and the wheels constantly going in and out for the driving legs. It was also lucky that I had a spare seat-post clamp for when I stuffed mine.  A good thing to carry, especially if you know you'll be removing the seatpost regularly...


The famous climbs

There's no denying the allure of the storied roads of the cycling world, and on this trip, Sarah and I were lucky to tick off the Ghisallo, Mortirolo (two ascents), Stelvio, Umbrail (virtually a second ascent of the Stelvio), Gavia, Pordoi, Fedaia, Croce d'Aune, and Monte Grappa.  

I'm nowhere near as familiar with the history of the Giro d'Italia as I am with the Tour de France, but even without sporting anecdotes to lean on, these long climbs were more fun to ride for knowing that they were in the coffee-table books.  Seeing with ones own eyes the way the final stretches of the Stelvio cling to the hillside is really quite special.  


100 Greatest Cycling Climbs of Italy by Simon Warren was a handy resource.


But wait, there's more...

From the hundreds of kilometres we rode, there's a stretch that really sticks out in my memory, namely,  the incredible descent we took off Monte Grappa.  I don't recognise a single (rider's) name in the Strava Top 10 times of the climb shortly after the photo below was taken, whereas one of the segments on the main climb we took has all but two of the top 20 times set during this year's Giro, and I recognise almost all of those names!  

The moral of this story for me is that the "best roads" are not necessarily ones that can fit a Grand Tour peloton, let alone their vehicle support.  Indeed, if "cuteness" is a criterion, you almost surely need to look elsewhere.  


It is entirely possible that part of why I loved that road so much (and, e.g. the climb I did alone on my final ride of the trip, from Edolo), was knowing that it was unknown, relatively speaking.  Feeling like you've stumbled upon something special adds to the sense that it is special.  


Sustenance

Italian cuisine is right up a cyclist's alley - no surprises on that front.  Most nights we ate pizza or pasta, and these went a long way to getting us through the next day's ride.  We carried very little food on the bike - I'd even go so far as to say too little, but we did get away with it.  Thanks in no small part to dinner, but also for the fact that many mountain passes had food available at or near the top, and that stretches between villages tended not to be too long.  

A few of our recent cycle tour destinations have really tested my coffee addiction, but this wasn't an issue at all in Italy (Viet Nam, you're still my all-time favourite).  Bars are commonplace, and if you're not wanting a mid-morning Spritz Aperol, the coffee machine is bound to be on.  Espresso was reasonably priced (usually about 1.25 Euro).  A cappuccino tended to be double this price, unless you sit down, in which case the coperto could double the price again!

While food was high-calorie and relatively easy to find, it wasn't cheap to eat out.  A panino for lunch was sometimes as much as 10 Euro, which was knocking on double what you might expect to pay in New Zealand.  On the other hand, a few were absolutely worth it (the panino caprese we had twice in Ampezzo, I'm looking at you...).  

My new favourite pasta dish is pizzoccheri alla Valtellinese, which while not much to look at, is an hors categorie meal if ever I had one.  


It was pretty cheap to cook at home, so it was just a matter of compromising slightly on a cultural experience (e.g. filled pasta with some pesto, avocado and mozzarella to feed three was easily within 10 Euro).  


Accommodation

I used a combination of booking.com and airbnb for our digs.  

Our room configuration wasn't super common, but I generally didn't have too much trouble finding somewhere near a village centre, and with a washing machine.  Mostly, we were in apartments, and these came with full cooking facilities (and, critically, a stovetop coffee maker).  

The bikes tended not to be a hassle - during the trip they "slept" on a balcony, in a private garage, hidden away in a garden shed, in a shared but secure atrium, and even joined us in a bedroom or two.  

Parking the car tended to be a bit more tricky.  Occasionally we had dedicated off-street parking, but more likely we'd be directed to a free but public spot.  In Trieste, we had to spring for a 24-hour carparking building which was 25 Euro per day, if memory serves.  


With the benefit of hindsight...

Aside from not puncturing the tyre in the rental car, I don't think there's much I'd do differently.  

The couple of nights in Trieste was probably the most stressful (as tour guide), and we didn't really extract much direct benefit out of being in the city (i.e. no city-based attractions).  However, the contrast helped us realise how much we'd been enjoying the valleys and villages, and the ride into Slovenia and Croatia added a lovely dimension to the trip.  

I've been thinking a bit about what a cycle tour out of Milan might look like.  The loop in the image below gives the broad strokes of a route that would set a fit individual or group up for most of our highlights.  


  • Day 1:  Milan Malpensa to Bellagio via the Ghisallo is about 100km and nice shake down ride after ditching boxes at the airport.
  • Days 2-3:  A ferry from Bellagio and then the Sentiero Valtellina cycle path to Bormio would be a long day (about 140km).  I'd be inclined to go via Switzerland and pass through Livigno and over Passo Foscagno to make it a solid two-days, and just shy of 200km.

  • Days 4-5:  Three nights in Bormio would give the opportunity to visit Lago di Cancano and to do the Gavia-Mortirolo loop. 

  • Days 6-7:  Bormio to Canazei via the Stelvio would be a solid two-day ride, with a bunch of options for the final half day into Canazei.  I'd happily recommend the second half of the loop Sarah and I rode (with a short side trip down to see the lake).  

  • Day 8:  The Fedaia was a beast, but a loop over Passi Sella, Gardena and Campolongo to Arraba, followed by the Fedaia would be a great day's riding (we didn't ride the Gardena and Campolongo, unfortunately).  
  • Day 9:  Passo Pordoi and then Passo Falzarego would be a relatively short day into Cortina.  Passo Giau instead of Falzarego would be slightly longer, but either would set you up for an extra 30km downhill run into Pieve di Cadore.  
  • Days 11-13:  Plenty of time to get to Monte Grappa, climb it, and enjoy some of the highlights in the vicinity (e.g. Croce d'Aune and some of the cycle path between Feltre and Bassano del Grappa).  
  • Days 14-15:  Two days to Edolo via Val di Sole and Passo Tonale.  
  • Days 16-17:  Back to Milan via Lago d'Iseo (which looked stunning in the rare glimpses we got of it between tunnels).  

All told, that would be an absolutely stunning loop with epic climbs, but no single day too insane, distance wise.  There would be infinitely many ways to add loops or detours, with or without leaving Italy and/or the mountains.  

To get it down to two weeks, cut out Livigno, forgo the best panino of the trip in Ampezzo, and spend a day less in the vicinity of Monte Grappa.  What a parcours - maybe I'll go and test it out some time!  And, nothing would make me happier than to hear from a happy adopter!


* * *

Especially with what's going on in the world right now, it does generally feel good to be at the arse-end of the world, miles away from it all, in little old New Zealand.  However, it isn't always great to be so far away, and Europe is about as far as it gets.  

I've documented some incredible roads on this blog:  here at home, in Tasmania, Taiwan, South Korea, between Argentina and Chile, and through South East Asia.  The Europeans cannot claim to be the only folk who know how to build spectacular road, and neither do they have a monopoly on spectacular scenery.

On the other hand, I've not seen anywhere else that has so much choice packed into a small area.  Where New Zealand has a handful of decent road climbs dotted around the country, it seems to be the case that you could pick from dozens of villages or small towns in the Italian Alps or Dolomites (not to mention elsewhere), and have more choice within riding distance of your accommodation than in the whole of New Zealand.  And, the roads you'd find would be longer, narrower, more dramatic, and generally higher quality!  

Their legend derives in part from their physical characteristics, but I've no doubt their reputation is established and amplified through their role as hosts of sporting drama.  

It was a privilege to spend time there, and having Mum with us only added to the experience, especially given her amazing command of Italian, and knowledge of the cuisine and culture.  There were plenty of highlights that would have slipped us by without her company.  

The trip also had an important role to play in our adjustment to life without Dad.  He was meant to be with us, of course, and the experiences we enjoyed were bittersweet.  After weeks of soul-searching immediately following his death in April, the three of us felt we were left with no choice but to go and have the best time we could.  I'm sure he'd be proud of us, as we are of ourselves.  This one was for you, Pops.  

Sunday, June 22, 2025

Gavia-Mortirolo Loop

When we arrived in Bormio two weeks ago, Passo Gavia was closed.  We nonetheless rode an out-and-back trip to the famous Mortirolo, and had another couple of great rides.  Our intended drive over the Stelvio was stymied by a Gran Fondo, but by that time the Gavia was open, and we drove that instead.

As we prepared to leave the Monte Grappa area, I didn't deliberately book accommodation at the bottom of the Gavia-Mortirolo loop, but once we found ourselves in Edolo, and I began looking at ride options, that's exactly what I discovered.

With June 21st being Mum's 75th birthday, I figured that wasn't a day to ride a 120km loop with two gigantic mountain passes in it, so the morning prior, we had a big breakfast, suited up, and rolled out. 

I'd debated starting with the Mortirolo, but I was nervous about the long uphill drag into Bormio, and then Passo Gavia itself, so decided to do the loop in the very un-Buddhist anticlockwise direction. 

We left Edolo through a short one-ish lane tunnel, before beginning the 20km climb up the valley to Ponte di Legno.


Leaving Edolo

Work on a cycleway up the valley is in progress, and while a section near Edolo isn't yet completed, we were able to get off the main road after about 7km.  Not before we'd passed the bottom of the descent off the Mortirolo, which I pointed out to Sarah as we rode by.

I was confident the cycleway would have a number of endearing features:  no traffic, lower gradients, and shade, and indeed these were all true to form.  To achieve these, we probably added a kilometre or two to the ride distance, and we bypassed all the towns so were not lured into any coffee stops.  



I was well and truly ready for second breakfast by the time we reached Ponte di Legno, and that probably affected my ability to efficiently find somewhere to stop.  Once we'd settled, we inhaled a ham and cheese toastie each, and due cappucini, and then it was time to crack into the climb proper.  

I'd not mapped the cycleway, so had quit out of the course on my GPS.  Not restarting it and then following driving directions to Passo Gavia had us do an unnecessary loop around the town, with the very tenuous silver lining being a 2 minute descent into the base of the climb.

We were deep in MTB territory, and there were many signposted routes around.  The road we'd taken in the car went over Passo Tonale, into Val di Sole, where the MTB World Cup round is on as I type.  



The climb was being well used by road cyclists, with a curious feature being that the majority we saw were women.   After mimicking a couple at a fountain - where the man's apparent job was to tip cold water over his woman-friend - I set off just behind a trio of women who were in light-weight touring mode.  

It was really nice to be riding road that was somewhat familiar, and I recognised many elements of the road from our drive.  On the other hand, it was nice not to be fixated on the road itself, and nervous about meeting oncoming traffic, and instead I was able to enjoy the absolutely  majestic surroundings. 

Especially impressive was a stream across the valley, which seemed to be running down a ridge, having carved out a small gully for itself.  Unusual, and very cool.   



I'd been swapping positions with the leading two women from the trio - I'd initially passed all three of them, but by virtue of my photo stops, and their lack thereof, I was riding in third wheel when I arrived at a tunnel a few kilometres below the pass.  I decided to stop there and wait for Sarah.

Bypassing the tunnel was an old road, and I sat at the very end of a rock retaining wall, and soaked in exquisite scenery while waiting.  



The majority of cyclists were using the tunnel, but I did see one roadie take the old road on foot, and a couple of mountain bikers came down it, no doubt enjoying their vehicle choice.  When Sarah arrived, we decided we too would check out the road, but realised it was mostly going to be hike-a-bike.  

Passage on foot gave us a good chance to see what we were passing, and this included a few memorials, including one for a group that had lost their lives when their vehicle had lost the road.  



Sarah managed to ride more than I did, and we were soon back on the road.



By this stage, we were well above 2000m, and we passed a few remnants of snow.  I asked Sarah to rest on one, figuring it would both make for a fun photo, but also serve to cool her down a bit!



We had another couple of kilometres to reach the pass itself, and I made good use of my early arrival by ordering some coffee and cake to celebrate Sarah's arrival.  I did buy a cute but outrageously priced Passo Gavia memento, but drew the line at a lederhosen skinsuit...



The air was warm still, and we decided to try the descent to Bormio without wrapping up.  It was amazing to see the lake we'd stopped at with mum, now completely devoid of ice.  



What a difference two weeks made, as is evident from these before and after shots taken from roughly the same spot:

8 June 2025

20 June 2025

The descent towards Bormio was about as nice to ride as it had been to drive up - very pleasant indeed.  I had a hankering for some gelato, but as we approached Bormio, Sarah seemed to have flicked a switch somewhere in her brain that meant she was done with riding.  In a fluster, I completely bypassed the town, so to add insult to injury, there was no icecream to fuel our 25km down-valley run to the base of the Mortirolo.



I certainly could have done with it, and as we battled one of the few literal headwinds we've had, we were also battling an even more significant figurative one.  We stopped many times, during which I failed to ply half a banana into Sarah, noted that if she stopped to wait for a pick up, she'd be waiting about 4 hours, and had generally a miserable time.  

Eventually we reached the base of the climb, on the route we'd descended in our earlier ride.  There was signage every half a kilometre, which kindly reported progress and warned about the average and maximum gradients in the next stretch.  

Had I been alone, it would have been one of the nicer climbs of the trip - the gradient was generally surprisingly mellow, the road surface was top notch (presumably thanks to the road featuring in Stage 17 of this year's Giro), and for a decent chunk of it, we were in the shade.  

I waited for Sarah for a while at the intersection with our climbing route, just over 3km from the top.  There, I was intrigued to notice something that had slipped my attention earlier, which was that motorised vehicles all had to descend on the road we'd just come up.  Which, given the width of the road, was probably a good call!



From the intersection, we were stuck with the style of the signage on the other route, namely, the distance and gradient until the next switchback!  I have to admit, I preferred the 500m updates!

I waited again at the pass, and had Sarah's jacket ready for her when she arrived.  I'd been giving Mum updates, and I reported relief that the forecast thunderstorm had not yet materialised.  The mountain pass would have been an uncomfortable place to be with lightning pinging off around you.



The descent back to Edolo was nice, and we passed a few restaurants serving gaggles of motorcyclists, and then rode through the town of Monno, a few minutes above the main valley road, which returned us to Edolo. 



Mum was waiting patiently for us, and as we hoed into a bag of chippies, and sliced tomato and mozzarella, we realised we had enough food for a picnic dinner.  We hadn't exactly ended our riding on a high note, but it was nonetheless nice to have ridden this classic loop.  

Stats:  123km ridden, 3170m climbed over a 10 hour duration...  


Postscript

I couldn't let that ride be my last on this incredible trip, so the next morning headed out on a "short" 45km loop.  A few kilometres from Edolo, I turned onto an unheralded climb up to the ridge southwest of Passo Mortirolo.  

Three switchbacks from the valley road, I got a whiff of what I was in for...


The road was indeed brutally steep in parts, though generally had opportunities for respite as well.  I stopped a few times for photos, and another few to catch my breath.  



Eventually, I'd broken the back of the climb, and pretty much drained any residual power out of my legs.  An intersection with a road from Passo Mortirolo heralded the start of a nice flat section, during which time my energy levels slowly returned.  

I was surprised to find myself riding into a cute valley and had to ride between a tractor and its mower which was tending to the uphill verge.  



Then came a steep descent into Aprica.  If I'd gone straight ahead, I'd have eventually found myself at the northern tip of Lake Como!  After faffing around in a futile search for a pick-me-up, I hooned back down the valley to Sarah and the birthday girl, finding them both finishing up their midday Aperol Spritzes at a nearby bar.  Pooped, I was nonetheless glad to have gotten out.

Stats:  48km ridden, including a 900vm stretch at an average gradient of 10.5%.  Beastly, in a good way.