“I take my gear out of the car and put my bike together.  Tourists and locals are watching from sidewalk cafes. Non-racers.  The emptiness of their lives shocks me.”  
Tim Krabbe, The Rider.

Bicycle Racing revels in suffering.  It takes a certain kind of masochist to enjoy the endless miles across undulating terrain against merciless opponents; sometimes in repetitive stages over many weeks.  No one captures the ethos of those who choose to race better than author Tim Krabbe in his novel, The Rider, about a single day of cycling in an anonymous 70’s amateur race in the South of France.  The protagonist and his opponents push to the limits of their endurance in a fight to the finish line. 

The history of cycling is replete with legends of such stoic heroes.  The rider flying off a cliff during a speedy descent, only to climb out of the canyon, bruised and bloody, to ride to victory.  The nicknames of the greatest suggest a ruthless will to win; the Cannibal, Badger, and Pirate.  None are more famous than Il Campionissimo or the “Champion of Champions” Fausto Coppi.  The great post World War Two Italian cyclist was a World Champion, two time winner of the Tour de France, and five time winner of the Giro d’Italia.  The latter two races are multi-stage epics whose distances covered and altitude gained are difficult for laymen to truly comprehend. To this day, the annual Giro d’Italia names the highest peak in the race Cima Coppi in his honor.  

The most iconic climb of the Giro is arguably the Passo del Stelvio on the forbidding alpine border between Lombardy and South Tyrol.  The Austro-Hungarian Emperor built the road in the nineteenth century in order to secure his restive Italian provinces. The vestiges of WWI combat between Italians and Austrians still litter the terrain.  

At 2,760 meters, it is the highest motorable pass in Italy, and the second highest in Europe.  That is, of course, when it is open at all. Four times in its history, the Giro has used the summit of the Stelvio Pass as a stage finish.  Yet, on four other occasions, it had to cancel the Stelvio stage due to inclement weather. It is an endless stream of hairpin switchbacks at a relentless grade to a snow capped summit.  When the opportunity presented itself, I had to try and climb it.  

As a family we traveled to the South Tyrol region last Labor day.  The beautiful mountains, picturesque villages filled with onion domed churches, and a blend of germanic and Italian culture make it an intoxicating getaway.  Beer and Espresso. Pasta and Strudel. It is a wonderful place. We tucked our children in bed in a farmhouse above a herd of cows. My wife and I lazily explored what we could do in the region. It is then that we found out the next day, August 31, the Stelvio pass would be hosting a cycling event open to all; Stelvio Bike Day.  For only a handful of days a year, the road is closed to cars so cyclists can test their will against its flank. In hurried negotiations, we decided I would attempt it the next day.

Bright and early, we drove to the starting point in a small village in the plain below the high Alpine peaks.  Thousands of other cyclists surrounded us, ready to try and tick off a bucket list climb. I set up my bike, kissed my family, and pedaled off in a sea of other enthusiasts.

There should be no mistake and no illusions.  Although this is the hardest climb I have ever attempted, none of us riding that day can rightfully compare ourselves to those legends who had ridden the path to achieve victory in a professional bike race.

The first year the Stelvio was showcased in the Giro d’Italia was 1953.  That year Fausto Coppi hoped to win his fifth Giro. At that time, only one other man had ever won five Giros.  However, by the time the Giro had reached the penultimate Stelvio stage, Coppi was far behind his competitor and friend, non-Italian Hugo Klobet.  It is said that the day before the stage, Coppi told Klobet, “The Giro is yours, You are the strongest.”  A deal was allegedly hatched, neither would attack the other, Koblet would take the race and Coppi would take the stage.

The pack thinned as I rode up and away from the villages, soon surrounded by pine trees.  The ascent was relentless. Although the gradient was a reasonable 5%, there was no flat or dipping terrain in order to rest the legs.  Raging whitewater fed by the melting glaciers above, flowed down beside us.  

Coppi’s Italian teammates and most importantly the boss of his sponsoring company didn’t like the deal Coppi had made.  They insisted the race could still be won. About four kilometers into the stelvio stage, Coppi’s teammates began to attack in a bid to break Koblet.

Surrounded by beautiful mountains, I had stopped to refuel on a strudel and espresso, before continuing the climb.  Soon the famous 48 hairpin turns began, where I imagined the assault on Koblet began. It was hard to stay in the saddle and continue to pedal up the increasingly steep gradient of 8%-9%.  I climbed almost the rest of the way out of the saddle. 

After Koblet chased down another of Coppi’s teammates, Coppi counterattacked.  According to a member of Coppi’s team, “He came past us like a motorbike. I’d never seen anything like it.  He disappeared into the distance.”

The names of great cyclist were spray painted on the road beneath me, as I continued to pedal up.  We left the tree line and entered into true alpine country, exposed to the elements. The road was a mesmerising line that seemed to stitch its way up the impossibly steep slope above us, and my own personal suffering began in earnest.   

Coppi’s mistress, Giulia Locatelli waited on the side of the road.  Known as the “White Lady” their adulterous love affair would scandalize Italy and led the Pope to refuse to bless the Giro when Coppi rode it.  As Coppi passed Giulia on the Stelvio, he asked her if she would be at the finish. She shouted yes, and a further inflamed Coppi sprinted over the summit.  

My breathing ragged from the effort and altitude, my legs heavy, I pushed on to what appeared to be the summit.  Glacial snow and gray skies crowned the Stelvio pass. An army of fellow cyclists crowded around the pass celebrating their achievement with long steins of beer and bratwursts.  I called my family to tell them I made it. Among the chaos, a simple sign proclaimed the pass to be the Cima Coppi.

Coppi himself flew down the other side of the pass and took the Maglia Rosa, or Pink Jersey, awarded to the winner of the Giro.  

I rode down to my family who were playing in an idyllic Alpine hotel in the shadow of the mountain.

Coppi won his fifth Giro.  The Stelvio, afterwards, would be an integral part of future races.  Koblet and Coppi would never speak to each other again.  

I had no opponent save my own doubt.  Nor was I the victor of a classic race.  Over 5,800 feet had been gained in approximately 25 miles.  The suffering had ended. I stretched my sore legs and celebrated the end of a hard climb with a cold beer, surrounded by my daughters, happy to have rode in the shadow of legends.

Roland Minez is a co-founder of Pushing Horizons.
Disclaimer: All views expressed are that of the author.