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Trento Bike Pages
Crossing the Alps:
A short ride from Italy to Germany
By Catherine McCammon (catherine.mccammon@uni-bayreuth.de)
Summary
1367 km in 13 days with a vertical height gain of 11,165 m with two "rest"
days in the middle on a cycling trip from Elba to Glashuetten
Prelude
The trip nearly ended before it began at the Goods Depot of the
Pisa Centrale railway station. I had sent Mackenzie (my touring
bicycle) by freight train from Bayreuth, Germany two weeks before, but
it still had not arrived. I haunted the Depot at spare moments during
the week long conference, but was always greeted with those
devastating words "non è arrivato". It was the eve of my
departure from Pisa - I was in a blue funk and considering the
alternatives. In a passionate speech to the lady at the desk I
exhausted the better part of my Italian vocabulary as I explained my
situation, but was told not to worry, my bicycle would be there in the
evening. I was sceptical, but lo and behold, there was Mackenzie
sitting in the warehouse. I will never know: did he arrive that
afternoon? or was he there all the time just waiting for the
paperwork.
After the conference there was an informal field excursion to Elba which
seemed an appropriate starting point for the ride home. There was one
train to Campiglia that allowed bicycles, but the trains ran on a chaotic
schedule that bore little relation to the printed one, and indeed I saw my
train arrive 20 min late but the guard said no bicycles allowed. With a
heavy heart I watched it leave, and with it my chances of getting to Elba
that night. But there was a fast train to Roma waiting on the next track
and after I stumbled through an explanation, the guard let me on the
train. There was nowhere to put the bicycle, of course, so I left it in
the corridor at the front of the train. I was getting to like Italy very
much - such flagrant defiance of the rules would be nearly impossible in
Germany. It was thrilling to set off in the dark after arriving in
Campiglia, and adrenaline kept me moving along the 15 km stretch to
Piombino in time to catch the last ferry of the day just minutes before it
left. After the hour long ferry ride there was still a 16 km ride over the
backbone of the island, and I began to wonder as I huffed and puffed my
way up the hills if I would make it over the Alps at all. Progress was
slow, particularly on the hairpin turns going down, but I arrived safely
at Marina di Campo and finally got into my tent after 2 am.
The dash through the night was worth all the effort as the weekend field
excursion was great - wonderful companions, good food, great scenery, and
we even managed to see a bit of geology along the way.
12 Sept (112 km, 1245 m height gain) Marina di Campo - Rosia
Marina di Campo is a small community on the southern shore of Elba, the
island of exile where Napoleon plotted what turned out to be his Waterloo.
Geographically the island consists of steep vegetated slopes, leading to
the highest point, Monte Capanne, at 1018 m above sea level. Retracing my
tracks to Portoferrario was pure joy, as different to the previous time as
... well as different as night and day! With no dynamo-driven lights to slow
me down I covered the distance in half the time and with what felt like
half the effort. I stood on the ferry deck, the sea spray washing over my
face, and savoured the last sensations of the ocean before setting off for
landlocked Bayern.
The Touring Club Italiano 1:200,000 maps are excellent for cyclists, and
show everything from the forbidden autostrada to small farm tracks. After
consulting the Toscana sheet I followed a route from Piombino along Strada
Statale (SS) 398 to continue on smaller roads to Massa Marittima, an
impressive walled town perched on a hill. From Piombino the narrow strip
of coastal plain was quickly left behind as I climbed up the richly
forested slopes of the Metallifere Hills. Traffic was extremely light -
one car per hour - but the serrated terrain and steep ascents (>20%)
eventually led me to the gentler gradients of SS 441 and 73 to finish the
day close to Siena. The region is sparsely populated and it was
challenging to find places to refill my water bottles. I pedalled through
siesta time when more sensible members of the population were sheltered
from the burning sun in the relative cool of dark buildings. Although the
dominant colour of the landscape was green, everything seemed tinged with
a deep shade of brown that recalled colours such as burnt siena and burnt
umber from one of my childhood crayon boxes. The physical drain from the
heat combined with the mental challenge of long steep hills on the first
day of the tour was sufficiently shattering that I abandoned the idea of
sleeping in the bush, and instead opted for a cool shower and a lovely
night between fresh sheets.
13 Sept (119 km, 1015 m) Rosia - Prato (near Firenze)
The route north from Siena winds through the Chianti Hills, some of
Tuscany's most beautiful countryside, but perhaps better known for the
wine. Instead of following the obvious route along SS 2, I backtracked
through Rosia to the junction of SS 541 and was rewarded with a pleasant
ride up the Elsa river valley, a lush countryside of wheat and vines. The
mist of the early morning burned off to another cloudless day, but I
learned from yesterday and took frequent breaks in the heat of the day for
short naps in the shade by the side of the road. In contrast to Germany
where towns are generally nestled in the valleys, most major towns in
Tuscany seemed to be perched on the tops of hills. The road climbed
steeply out of the valley to San Casciano, only to be followed by a steep
descent into the same valley further on. I got lost in Montelupo! It
seemed so simple - follow the main road until the river Arno, then turn
right. I did this, but wondered as I pedalled along why all the signs to
Firenze were pointing the other way. Out came the compass, but this was
more confusing as the sun was in the wrong place. With great effort I
convinced myself what I thought was north was really south, and that
somehow I had made a 180 degree error in navigation. It was nearly an hour of
cycling and much compass work before I got myself onto the right road, and
even now, weeks after, I get a headache trying to think where I went
wrong. The final 30 km of the day went by quickly in comparison, and I
decided to stay in Prato at the foot of the Appenines.
14 Sept (99 km, 900 m) Prato - Bologna
Any frustration caused by puncture #1 and a half-hour detour from
missing a sign and ending on the road to Firenze (oops) was quickly
compensated by the spectacular scenery throughout the day. The route along
SS 325 over the Appenines follows the Bizensio river valley to the crest
near Castiglione dei Pepoli, and then winds down the Setta river valley to
Bologna. As I ascended the valley narrowed to a steep gorge and further
bits of road could be seen on the steep slopes above. Ominous dark clouds
gave the landscape a sinister appearance and debris blown along the road
by the gradually strengthening wind produced an autumn melancholy. The
small villages along the way seemed untouched by the thoroughfare passing
through the heart of their communities, and I had many opportunities to
practice my Italian as I stopped to ask for water and to buy provisions
along the way. One charming elderly woman said I had "molto coraggio" to
do such a trip on my own. As I reached the crest and the terrain levelled
off briefly before plunging down the other side, the wind velocity
increased to a roar, branches were flying around and I had to stop
occasionally to brace myself against the wind gusts. Rain started soon
after but was appreciated as it kept my rims cool during the long descent.
Multiple forks of lightning lit up the inky black afternoon sky and I
thought about the electrical conductivity of mounted cyclists. But the
weather enhanced rather than diminished my appreciation of the scenery,
and I was sad to reach the flat plains and Bologna in the late afternoon.
15 Sept (128 km, 0 m) Bologna-Padova
The main road goes through Bologna like a river; I was carried along by
rush hour traffic in the strong current and spit out the other side with
no navigational errors. I enjoyed the flexible approach of motorists to
road use, where aberrations like cyclists were not only tolerated but were
given road priority when required to keep traffic flowing. Timidity was
disastrous, but aggressiveness was not mandatory for making progress.
Yesterday's storm gave way to cloudless skies, but the intensity of the
sun was only a shadow of its former self, hinting at the coming autumn.
Fortunately, because the way to the Alps from Bologna is very flat, with
few features to captivate the cyclist's attention. I could have covered
the distance by train, but such weakness was prevented by my philosophy
that the bicycle is a serious mode of transportation as well as a vehicle
for recreation. I chose a route along SS 64 to Ferrara, then along SS 16
to Padova. A long, straight, flat road - not much to say.
16 Sept (121 km, 400 m) Padova-Belluno
After a pleasant breakfast with Austrian and Czech cyclists at a
neighbouring campsite, I was off to navigate my way through the centre of
Padova. Unlike Bologna there were many eddies and back currents in the
traffic flow, and more than one pedestrian looked on with curiosity at the
loaded touring cyclist taking a compass bearing in the centre of town. SS
307 is not recommended as a route north from Padova, being narrow, busy
and full of trucks. Still, I was impressed at how little the bicycle
disturbed the traffic flow; motorists overtook with little hesitation or
frustration, and rarely impeded the oncoming traffic flow. Views became
more appealing after reaching SS 348 and the Piave river as the size of
the hills grew and closed in to make a narrow valley. The mountains to the
north faded tantalisingly in and out of the mist, but became obliterated
entirely as the clouds closed in and for the second time on the trip, rain
came pouring down in torrents. I abandoned the idea of camping (crawling
between two pieces of wet nylon didn't appeal at the time), and savoured
the luxury of a warm, dry bed in Belluno.
17 Sept (78 km, 1220 m) Belluno-Cortina d'Ampezzo
From Belluno SS 51 climbs gradually along the Piave and Boite valleys in
what is probably the most mellow route to reach Cortina d'Ampezzo. The
road is relatively wide and well travelled, but traffic came in intense
bursts, leaving many moments when all was quiet as I pedalled up the
valley. Spectacular views awaited around each corner, where steep rock
faces rose up to snow and sharp peaks. The tunnel just below Tai di Cadore
was narrow, and the roar of the jet turbines that kept the air flowing
kept my adrenaline flowing as well. A bridge just after spans the valley
with spectacular drops on either side. Along the entire route the gradient
is barely noticeable, and the stretch between Tai di Cadore and Cortina
seemed to be more downhill than up, despite the nearly 400 m height gain.
The approach to Cortina is not to be missed, passing by the ski jump from
the 1956 Olympic Games as the Boite valley opens to a 360 degree panorama of
mountains. The torrential overnight rain had given way to morning drizzle,
a few breaks in the clouds, and finally in the afternoon, shadows! The
mountains played hide and seek with the clouds, tantalising all with a
glimpse of what things could look like in fine weather. I pitched the tent
in the deserted Olympia campground (highly recommended) beside the Boite
river with the 1000 m high cliffs of the Pomagagnon towering above.
18-19 Sept ("rest" days)
Tom, a colleague of mine, had made an arrangement to meet Richard in
Cortina on the 18th, so I thought I'd surprise them both by showing up as
well. The day dawned cold and overcast, but with rain forecast for the
evening I decided to make the most of the day with an excursion to a few
of the passes. What a difference with no luggage! Mackenzie positively
leapt forward when I pedalled and I had to restrain myself at first not to
go too fast. I chose a route along SS 48 to Falzarego Pass, but was barely
underway when puncture #2 occurred, caused by a large hole in the rear
tyre. I mended tyre and tube with rubber patches and a prayer, and hoped
that both would last until Bayreuth. The road rose quickly with hairpin
turns, passing through the small community of Pocol and then to scenery
that became more wild as the valley receded in the distance. The air got
colder and the clouds got thicker, until at ca. 1900 m it started snowing!
I was wearing all my gear, but barely generated enough heat during the
climb to keep violent shivering at bay. At the top of Falzarego Pass (2105
m) there was snow everywhere and it looked like winter. Too many people,
though. I stopped at the cafe at the top of the pass for a soul warming
cappuccino, pressed on in the blizzard to Valparola Pass (2192 m) and was
rewarded with a lonely panorama of snow covered mountains as far as the
eyes could see. I stopped to take a photograph on the way down, and was
surprised to see that the solid rock standing behind me was hollow with a
roughly cut staircase leading into it. I cautiously ventured through the
narrow opening, followed the stairs as they wound in spirals through the
bowels of the rock, to reach a window high above where I exclaimed aloud
as I looked down onto the hairpin turns of the road below. I remembered
tales of passages cut during the war to defend the mountain routes, and
guessed that this might be one. The snowstorm curbed my enthusiasm for the
return route over the Giau Pass with another 1000 m of climbing, so I
retraced my route down through Pocol and the relative warmth of Cortina.
In the evening I surprised Richard by appearing at the time and place
appointed for meeting Tom, his climbing partner. The cold was quickly
forgotten in the cocoon of warmth within our tent, a welcome change to
having only my panniers for company.
It was lovely to lie in, cuddled in warmth by Richard and his wonderful
down sleeping bag. After a slow start the lads set off for a day of rock
climbing while Melanie and I left under heavily overcast skies to retrace
my route of yesterday, this time with that wonder of modern technology,
the motorcar. The benefits of the bicycle were apparent as the rapid
ascent through the hairpin turns made me feel slightly ill, and I was glad
to get out at the top for some hiking in the direction of the Hexenstein.
Although the snow from yesterday had been scraped clean from the roads by
the snowplough, it remained in deep carpets on the landscape, deceiving
the brain and giving the impression that winter had arrived. After an
invigorating walk among the peaks, a gentle reminder of muscles other than
those used for cycling, as a treat for me we completed the aborted route
from yesterday along SS 638 over Giau Pass (2233 m) in the fading
afternoon light.
20 Sept (91 km, 815 m) Cortina d'Ampezzo - Lienz
The day dawned crisp, clear and cold with a thick layer of ice on the
cars and not a cloud in the sky. It was the sort of day that made you leap
out of the tent in an exhilaration of joy and celebration of how good life
could be. I waved goodbye with a heavy heart and set off along SS 48 in
the direction of Tre Croci Pass, at 1805 m a mere 600 m above the valley
floor. The warmth of the sun joined with the soothing caress of a light
breeze to produce a euphoric state that invoked a feeling more of
impending spring than of early autumn. The mountain backdrop was imposing,
but not as spectacular as yesterday. I took lunch and a siesta at Lake
Misurina amidst the tour buses and tourists with twitchy shutter fingers.
What comments will accompany the photographs taken of me dozing beside
Mackenzie on the grass? The route to Dobbiaco (Toblach) along SS 51 was
enriched by the emerald green lakes and tantalising glimpses of Tre Cime
di Laveredo (2999 m) passed on the way, and enlivened by my stuttering
failure to produce any German after speaking Italian for so many days.
Fortunately the language returned in time to cross the border to Austria
for the final 30 km into Lienz. I bid a sad farewell to Italy with its
childhood pleasures of eating pizza every night, the cappuccino bars, the
friendly people and stunning scenery. A pleasant surprise awaited in the
form of an asphalt bike track from Thal to Lienz, a welcome respite from
the constant whoosh of overtaking traffic. I retired the Touring Club
Italiano maps to my panniers and started on my set of 1:200,000 Austrian
maps (Radtourenkarte Oesterreich).
21 Sept (40 km, 1000 m) Lienz - Heiligenblut
The day dawned cloudy but with plenty of sun nonetheless. Lienz sits in
a confluence of valleys surrounded by ice capped mountains, where every
direction except one leads up. I followed the up direction leading along
Bundesstrasse (B) 107 northeast to the Iselsbergpass (1204 m), a pleasant
and gradual climb never exceeding 12% with wonderful views back to the
south and the Lienzer Dolomiten. I saw the first other loaded touring
cyclist of the trip, and longed to talk with him. Unfortunately he was
coming up and I was going down at 60+ km/hr and was long past before the
idea registered properly in my brain. Decision time came at Winklern, on
the other side of the pass. Was I going to haul myself and all my gear
over Grossglocknerstrasse, at 2504 m the highest pass in Austria, or was I
going to take the easier route and the train-tunnel at Mallnitz into the
Gasteiner Tal? I had been oscillating between the two possibilities during
the entire trip, imagining the thermal hot springs in Bad Gastein just as
vividly as the snow at Hochtor on Grossglocknerstrasse. The time of decision
had come, but there was no melodramatic wavering to be followed by a last
minute decision - I realised as I turned decisively onto the road to
Heiligenblut and Grossglocknerstrasse that I had unconsciously made the
decision long ago, that if I could still pedal after all those days of
cycling that I would somehow get myself to the top. The ride up the
Moelltal was leisurely and pleasant, and I barely noticed the final climb
to Heiligenblut. It was still early, but I stopped for the day and spent a
pleasant afternoon and evening strolling around the town.
22 Sept (79 km, 1510 m) Heiligenblut - Mittersill
The road to Grossglockner Hochalpinstrasse was wonderfully quiet in the
morning; I shared the road with only a handful of cars and no tour buses.
First were the warning signs about the sharp turns, slippery roads, steep
gradients and wandering cows, and then a few km later, the toll gates. It
warmed my Scottish blood to see that although motorists had to pay 350 OeS
per vehicle, cyclists could use the road for free. The hairpin turns were
numbered, but in reverse so the first turn that I encountered was nr. 27.
Some of them had curious names like Hexenkueche (witches' kitchen). The
clouds of yesterday had lifted above the valley and the sun burnt some of
them through - I could see Grossglockner itself, at 3798 m the highest
mountain in Austria. Clouds still clung to the sides of the mountains, and
as the road ascended I was enveloped by the mist. The gradient was steady,
although never more than 12%, and cycling was pleasant until the last few
km before the pass when I decided that walking was more comfortable. Above
the tree line the landscape looked bleak and empty, particularly after
reaching the snow. It lay in large patches rather than the thick carpets
of the Dolomites, but gave a feeling of winter just the same. I met two
cyclists from Utah at the top of the pass who said the roads in Europe
were "just awesome". Through a short tunnel to the other side of the pass
and the north slopes of the Alps, the landscape looked even more desolate,
and the road an unusual sight among the snow, rock and ice. The road
dropped 300 m before rising again almost to the same elevation at Fuscher
Toerl, where a side road to Edelweissspitze leads motorists or cyclists (no
buses or caravans allowed) up the highest road in Austria to a panorama
that includes 37 peaks higher than 3000 m and 19 glaciers, provided the
day is clear, of course. I passed up the view and started the descent into
the Fuscher Tal down the remaining 14 hairpin turns. Progress was nearly
as slow going down because of hot wheel rims; I could only descend 1-2
turns before stopping to let them cool down. I wonder where the
temperature limit lies - the point just before catastrophic failure. I
stopped when the rims were too hot to touch, which was evidently on the
safe side, but I still wonder if I could have gone in ignorance yet safety
the entire way down without stopping. After reaching the valley bottom at
Zell am See I covered the remaining 30 km to Mittersill along B 168 in
good time. The late afternoon light on the green fields cast shadows that
conjured up images of green velvet laid in carpets on the valley bottom.
With the spectacular scenery, the high peaks and passes, alpine meadows
and deep valleys, the Hohe Tauern region is definitely on my list for a
return visit.
23 Sept (95 km, 975 m) Mittersill - Wiesing
Another unbelievable day - sunny, warm, no clouds, and the Dolomite
snowstorm only a distant memory. More of the wonderful Hohe Tauern scenery
rolled by, and it was truly heartwarming to see the flag "Radfahrer
wilkommen" (cyclists welcome) flying at the entrance to each little
village. Krimml was chock a block with tourist buses and tourists, but did
provide one charming episode. After rounding a 360 degree hairpin turn on the
way to Gerloss pass (1507 m) I stopped at the overlook above the tunnel
below only to be surrounded by elderly tourists who were fascinated by the
solitary female cyclist. They were charmed by my story and my accent
(including the grammatical mistakes), and it was only at great length and
with help from the bus driver (who announced it was time to go) that I
extracted myself. The hairpin turns were mellow, although it was at times
disheartening to see bits of road far above me. The nearly constant view
of Krimml Falls was a unfailing antidote to creeping tiredness in the
legs, however. I passed by the emerald green Durlassboden Reservoir and its
backdrop of the Reichenspitze (3303 m) that hung like a curtain behind,
before dropping down the long descent into the Zillertal. The cyclists'
map paid for itself by indicating a cycle route down the eastern side of
the valley, providing a restful journey down one of Austria's more famous
mountain valleys. I had planned my arrival in the Zillertal to coincide
with a music evening given by my favourite music group, Die Zillertaler
Jodlertrio, but unfortunately (for me, not for them) they had cancelled,
being called out of town for an appearance on German television, so I
sadly continued on my way. I had planned to reach Achensee, but after
crossing the autobahn I found that my legs weren't working properly going
up hills, so decided to camp in Wiesing, just across from the Zillertal.
Crossing the autobahn was one of the most exciting episodes of the day -
the roads twisted around in a Gordian knot of intersections and at one
point I thought I had accidentally entered the autobahn via one of the
entrance ramps.
24 Sept (138 km, 700 m) Wiesing - Freising
I was away early to get up the hill to Achensee before it got too busy
with traffic. The original plan was to go from Jenbach and up the exciting
26% gradient, but somehow I missed the road and ended up on the hairpin
turns along B 181 instead. It was another stunning day, and spectacular
watching the sun rise through the mist in the Inntal. Achensee was a deep
blue with rocky peaks rising almost directly out of the water. Although
there was little development along the lake shore, an asphalt cycle track
extending along most of the eastern shore was most appreciated. Back on B
181 it was apparent that most of the traffic on this fine Saturday was
coming the other way, all with German number plates. The volume of
oncoming traffic increased dramatically after Achenpass (941 m, the
Germany/Austria border and the last pass of the trip) to the point where
it was completely stopped past Tegernsee. Most drivers returned my
friendly smiles with sour looks as I cycled past the 16 km long queue, and
I wondered if any would think about going by bicycle next time. The
1:150,000 ADFC Radtourenkarten were invaluable for choosing sensible cycle
routes, and I worked my way along small roads and cycle tracks to finish
the day near the new Muenchen airport at Freising.
25 Sept (160 km, 530 m) Freising - Neumarkt i. d. Oberpfalz
All roads lead to the airport, a fact which became evident as I
continued north. It was good practice (I thought as I pedalled past the
jumbo jets) in case I ever decided to shun the wonderful S-Bahn service
(they allow bicycles) and cycle there instead. Heavy morning mist had
burned off to reveal yet another nice day, and I revelled in the
opportunity to explore what was effectively my own backyard. I crossed
from the flat plains of Oberbayern into Niederbayern and the hills of the
Frankenalb, then later into the Oberpfalz. Motorists were generally more
hostile to cyclists than in Italy and more nervous about overtaking, so I
used bicycle tracks wherever possible. It is the law, in fact, that
cyclists may not use the road if there is an accompanying cycle track. I
reached the bicycle-friendly Altmuehltal, and was pleased to see that a
cycle track had been constructed along the new Main-Donau Canal. I found
it so pleasant cycling along in the warm afternoon sun (excluding the
repair of puncture #3) that it was only too late that I realised the sun
was in my face and I was going west, not north as intended and as marked
on my map. Oops. But there was plenty of daylight remaining to accommodate
the detour and still reach Neumarkt before the sun went down.
26 Sept (107 km, 965 m) Neumarkt - Glashuetten (home!)
The last day of the tour, and I had to start by getting lost in
Neumarkt. Oops (again). But cycling up the dirt track beside the
Ludwig- Donau-Main Canal under the overhanging canopy of trees in the
first stage of their autumn colour easily made up for any frustration
caused by my deteriorating navigational abilities. Shortly after
regaining the road I was surprised to see a motorist waving vigorously
at me, who then turned and followed me into the next town. Turns out
she had seen me the day before on the canal cycle path and was
consumed with curiosity about who I was and where I was going (with
the volume of gear I had on Mackenzie I suppose it looked like I was
cycling around the world). We talked for awhile - nice to meet a
kindred spirit! - exchanged addresses, and eventually went our
separate ways. I followed the Pegnitz river to Neuhaus, a route I've
seen often from the train window. But it might as well have been only
television, so pale is the experience compared to actually being
there. It was the image of Germany from my childhood - a deep green
valley with half-timbered houses dotted with limestone towers rising
from the forest. The leaves were changing colour and the autumn hues
were reflected in the dark waters of the Pegnitz river.
I heartily recommend finishing long tours on the bicycle itself, if this
is possible. The feeling of inner peace generated by the bicycle tour is
not disrupted by the rigours of travel connections, and the state of
euphoria that grows and grows as familiar landmarks come into view is not
to be missed. First there were the Bayreuth number plates, then the signs
for the Fraenkische Schweiz. I realised as I pedalled past the limestone
towers and castles how lucky we were to live in such a beautiful area.
From Pottenstein it was only 18 km, but still time enough for puncture #4
caused by the patch finally wearing through. The excitement grew as I
trundled up the 15% climb from Volsbach, through the Glashuettener Forest,
and then! our doorstep. It was a wondrously happy reunion - Richard had
only returned the day before from his climbing trip. The worst part after
getting back was trying to resume normal life after the magical days of
bicycle touring.