Trentino treat

Earning our pizza the hard way in the Italian Alps, from a few moons ago.

Freddie really didn’t look too good; he was slumped over the bench in the village square, much to the concern of two passing old ladies. He lay slumped there with eyes closed and clutching at his stomach with a milk curdling expression across his face. Had the climb to Alpi di Pampeago been just that little bit too much for him? Well, actually no was the answer. It was all down to the “piccolo” pizza he’d just consumed (and the wine, of course), or at least tried to. We’d rounded off the ride with a slap up lunch at the mountain top ski bar, which on reflection hadn’t been the best of ideas. After a chopping board loaded full with cheese and local cooked meats we’d been presented with our oversized main courses. Poor old Freddie, his pizza was family size by anyone’s estimations, maybe they though “piccolo” family. Add to that a bottle of the finest local Marzemeno red wine, and you could say he wasn’t feeling so good any more.

It was early April, and the tail end of the ski season in the Italian Dolomites. I’d been sent out to take on a selection of the Giro d’Italia’s prime mountain climbs. But somebody had forgotten to consider that although it was just weeks away from the great race it’s self, it was still in fact mid winter in these parts. Though given the conditions I’d experienced in the preceding days (tales for another issue) this was positively mid summer madness.

It has to be said that these conditions are not exactly normal for this time of year, but I guess it’s all down to global warming and stuff. It was a chilly 5 degrees bellow freezing on top of the passes, and around 5 degrees above in the valley. But thanks to a dollop of full and bright high mountain sun it didn’t feel quite so chilly, and the air was as crisp and clear as you could possibly wish for.

The day had started much earlier, with a wrenching climb over the Passo di Lavaze. This is an 18-kilometre beast of a climb, which reaches to 18% in places, and is probably the hardest climb of this particular ride. It’s also a cruel opener to the day, and indeed to the season of pass riding and big rides. Early season cobwebs are still knee deep, and mountain acclimatisation is still a good couple of months off. Add to this the chilly thin winter air, and the whole thing becomes something of a strain. That said the views and tranquillity of a good winter’s day in these parts are really something to be experienced.

The road rises high out of the trees and into the open splendour of the high Dolomites. Our route tales on a circuit of the Latemar region of the range, a dramatic and typically Dolomiti spectacular. High and jaggedly pointed grey stone pinnacles and peaks peer out high from the mountain snow cover, which fades away as the slopes fall in towards the valley bottoms, a real eye full.

For a little while things ease off over the top off the pass, as we ride along snow lined roads beneath the imposing peaks of the Latemar. This respite soon turns into a fast and winding drop through the trees, chilling things well and truly before turning back into the sun to face the next pass – the Passo di Costalunga. This is another long and winding grinder, though not quite so steep as the days other passes. Climbing out of the tree line once more we pass through high alpine pastures and villages, where the first signs of spring are bursting out from the late winter snows, making for a real contrast in scenery and colour. This really is one awesome high mountain road. For ages it winds it’s way along the mountainside, with great views and deserted roads.

A wide-open and twisted descent through a series of mountain villages brings us down to ground zero once more, or the Val di Fassa as it’s better known. Hurtling along the valley floor we take five to check out the town of Moena, a typical and very picturesque Trentino mountain retreat. But before the chill and lethargy sets in we’re back on the road and heading swiftly along the last flats of the day, and on towards Cavalese. 

Now this can mean one of two things “are you feeling lucky? ”. Okay, go ahead punk – make that Alpi. If not then take the safer option of a top cappuccino in one of the local bars!

Steve’s hill report – Alpi di Pampeago

Now then just a meagre 9 kilometres, that’s all this baby Alpi is, not too tall or too long you may well think, but then again I can tell you differently. The climb real starts from the valley floor and Cavalese, which is around 1000 metres above sea level. A short sharp blast out of town soon eases off some, and then it even dips down a little – a total breeze! Err, no! Turn right and hold on to you lungs. Suddenly the trees close in on you, sucking up the oxygen and preventing your escape. The road rears up at a relentless 18% steepness, cruel at the best of times, but given its lack of bends it seems even more like a bad joke. The gradient really doesn’t ease as the air gets thinner and crisper. A couple of long dark tunnels sniff that the end is nigh, and it is; only it just seems to get steeper and even nastier towards the respite of the 1,757 meter high ski station. Now I reckon that my 39 x 25 was about okay for it, but then again that’s all I have. I wouldn’t like to guess what kind of insane lack of sprockets guys like Pantani would have used up here, but I’m damn sure they’d wrinkle into the teens. Life just ain’t fair!

 * Unfortunately I don’t have the original images, and so these are from another trip to the region.