The rough and the smooth
Cyclist tackles some classic climbs in the Italian Dolomites – and then keeps going when the tarmac runs out
Everything is as it should be. The sun is shining on the courtyard of our cafe in the town of Feltre, northern Italy. We’re fuelling up on pastries and cappuccinos, and propped against the wall is a pair of road bikes – a Canyon Ultimate CF SLX and a Trek Domane – in readiness for a day’s riding in the beautiful Italian Dolomites. The only blemish in this perfect scenario is the route map on the table in front of us.
‘I’m pretty sure it’s all rideable,’ says Paul, my partner for today, somewhat unconvincingly as he runs his finger over the map. Then he utters the words that should never be said right before
We hope the adventure will demonstrate just how versatile the road bike really is
embarking on a ride with quite a few unknowns: ‘What’s the worst that can happen?’
Off the beaten track
Our objective is simple. We’ll take in a couple of the most picturesque climbs in the Dolomites – the Passo Rolle and the Passo Giau – but when the tarmac reaches its highest point on these mountains, we’ll head onto gravel tracks to continue our journey upwards into the rugged peaks. We’re not sure what the tracks are like, and we can find no accounts of anyone having tried this before (at least, not on road bikes) so we’re entirely uncertain about what lies ahead.
It will be an adventure. And, we hope, it will demonstrate just how versatile the modern road bike really is. For this ride, we’re not switching to
‘gravel’ bikes or ‘all-terrain’ bikes. There are no disc brakes and there is a total lack of knobbly rubber. Our only concession to the terrain is to add some slightly fatter 28mm tyres.
Our mood is upbeat as, still dusting croissant crumbs off our jerseys, we coax our legs into life over the early kilometres, which are enjoyed mostly on quiet back streets. It’s still early, but clear skies overhead are an encouraging sign that the weather is on our side, which is no bad thing considering our final destination: the Rifugio Averau, a hostel at an altitude of 2,413m, where we will be spending the night.
Passing through the town of Fonzaso, we head north along the Val Canali, a beautiful valley with views of the limestone towers of the Dolomites in the distance. There are several tunnels along the road, but in each case we are able to avoid them by using the old roads that skirt around the hillsides and offer a safer and prettier route, completely free of traffic.
By the time we climb out of the town of Fiera di Primiero, about 35km in, we’re beneath the jagged mountain peaks that soar almost vertically out of the green hillsides. From here on, these snow-capped pinnacles will dominate the view. Swiss architect Le Corbusier referred to the Dolomites as, ‘ Les plus belle archtectures du monde’ – the most beautiful architectures on Earth – and it’s hard to disagree.
The 23.1km ascent of the Passo Rolle is our first major objective of the day, and from this side it ascends 1,253m at a relatively consistent average gradient of 5.4%. Between kilometres 16 and 18 things get a little steeper, up to 10%, but it’s always manageable and we’re in no particular hurry – there will be no chasing of Strava Koms today.
As we climb, the road gets quieter and the views open up dramatically above the tree line. Beyond the town of San Martino di Castrozza, the switchbacks arrive with increasing frequency and I get that magical feeling that comes with riding a bike in the mountains.
The top of the Passo Rolle is at 1,989m but after an hour and a half of steady climbing on
We make our first foray onto the gravel. We’re in unchartered territory, and this is where the real fun begins
the road we stop a few bends short. Paul can’t hide his eagerness for what lies ahead as we look up at the gravel trail snaking into the distance. And so we make our first foray onto the Strada Per La Baita Segantini – ‘the road to the Segantini Bay’ – that will take us to the Baita Segantini refugio, and a significantly loftier summit of 2,200m. We’re in unchartered territory now, and this, Paul assures me, is where the real fun begins.
Rough stuff
The gravel is well compacted, and save for the occasional soft patch that makes our wheels skid we’re able to cope fine on our road tyres. It’s fun picking lines and negotiating hazards such as drainage channels, and the distractions mean I almost forget we’re still climbing.
The tarmac is a distant memory now and the otherworldly sensation of being in the mountains is heightened by the tranquility of our surroundings. So far, besides one couple
The trail descends steeply into the valley far below. It’s as if we’ve been engulfed by the landscape
that passed us hiking in the other direction, we seem to be the only ones up here.
The refugio – like a big, rustic ski chalet – comes into view in what seems like no time at all, and Paul and I are feeling pretty pleased with ourselves as we take a moment to relax, recover and soak in the views. What’s more, just around the corner, we’ll be assisted by gravity for what promises to be a thrilling 5km.
The trail descends steeply in a succession of zigzags far off into the valley below. The surface is far from smooth, but the gravel at least is relatively hard-packed. After a cautious start we soon find our rhythm – alternating between letting the bike go to give our hands some respite from braking on the bumpy ground, to reining our speed back in to stay in control. Within just a few bends it’s as if we’ve been engulfed by the landscape. There’s an amphitheatre of mountain peaks surrounding us.
We pass a mountain biker climbing in the opposite direction, but there’s no way I’m taking my hands off the bars to wave. My eyes are fixed firmly on the trail and my hands are white from gripping the bars. It’s slightly scary but utterly
exhilarating, and as the trail continues to snake into the wide green meadows below us, the views (on the occasions I dare to look up) are superior to anything we could see from the road.
Despite the thrill of the gravel descent, there’s still a sense of relief when we rejoin tarmac on the side of the Passo Valles. Remarkably we’ve managed to get through the entire off-road excursion without any falls, in fact not even so much as a flat tyre. Who says you need a gravel bike?
One down, one to go
The Passo Valles is a forested climb, and its immaculately smooth tarmac is in stark contrast to the eyeball-rattling terrain we’ve just been descending. Approaching the summit I suddenly remember having done this climb before. It’s not the scenery or indeed anything to do with the mountain that jogs my memory, but an enormous St Bernard dog sitting on the steps in front of the Refugio Capanna Passo Valles. He was there last time too, and it’s as if he hasn’t moved in the four years since I visited (he’s even on Google Streetview, if you want to see him).
Descending from Valles is fast and fun. There are long, straight sections in the upper portion that allow us to curl into a tuck and let gravity do its job. At one point I glimpse 87kmh on my Garmin, and Paul is opening a gap so he must be really shifting.
Reaching Falcade with around 80km covered, it’s high time we refuelled. Paul is of the opinion that energy bars are only for emergencies and
My eyes are fixed firmly on the trail and my hands are white from gripping the bars. It’s slightly scary but utterly exhilarating
he insists we stop for some ‘real food’, which in this case means sandwiches and cake washed down with colas and coffees. Ideally we would linger over our lunch a little longer, but we’ve noticed that clouds are beginning to roll in, and that is more than just a little concerning, as we have still to tackle the major obstacle of the day: the Giau.
Recharged on caffeine and calories, we skip along the false flat from Alleghe to Caprile, past shimmering lakes and beneath grey cliffs. By the time we reach the tiny town of Selva di Cadore, we only have about 10km of our route to go, but I know that the end is far from near.
The Passo Giau is a favourite of the Giro d’italia (it last featured on Stage 14 of the 2016 race) and it always makes for brutal racing thanks to its 10% average gradient. It’s also one of the most beautiful climbs on the planet, as anyone who has ridden the Maratona Dles Dolomites sportive will tell you – once they’ve got their breath back.
With sweeping hairpins, tunnels, pristine tarmac and views over those iconic limestone towers, I quickly run out of superlatives to describe the scene. By the time we near the top I’m feeling dizzy from the effort and my attempts to think of synonyms for ‘beautiful’.
The pace slows and the roughness of the trail means the only way to proceed is on foot
End of the road
Just as we did on the Passo Rolle, we stop just a few bends short of bagging the Giau’s official
The closeness of the rock faces, which are shrouded by the mist, adds an element of claustrophobia
novelty of carrying my bike and scrambling up slopes. We’re never off our bikes for long and, besides, it’s at times like these that we get the opportunity to look around and fully appreciate our surroundings. There’s an overwhelming sense of remoteness now, and the closeness of the rock faces, which are now shrouded by the mist, adds an element of claustrophobia.
When the refugio comes into sight, it’s with renewed energy that our flagging bodies haul man and machine up the final steep ramp. We come to a halt and slump onto a bench outside the building. It has been an incredible journey, one that has left us both exhausted and elated. We’ve seen a new and dramatic side to the Dolomites, and we’ve shown that a road bike can cope with conditions way beyond a few potholes in the tarmac.
For a while we just sit and stare. No words are needed. Stu Bowers is deputy editor of Cyclist and is always on the lookout for the next adventure