I’m just back from a much-needed vacation, during which we bicycled up Mt Haleakala (again). While biking from sea level to 10,023 feet is challenging, it still pales in comparison to day 2 of last year’s Cinghiale trip.
Gavia Day.
The idea of getting to ride up the Passo Gavia with Andy “I’m famous for my epic day on the Gavia that helped me win the Giro d’Italia” Hampsten was one of the things that first hooked me in to wanting to do these Cinghiale trips.
Back in the day…
And while I had twice ridden up the Gavia with him in prior years, I had only done it from Bormio. I had not yet had it in me to descend to Ponte di Legno and ride back up in the direction he raced it in 1988. To do so had been a major goal for me heading into this trip, and now was the day.
I was nervous, but I was also feeling somewhat confident. I could tell that I was in better shape than before, both in terms of strength and endurance. Also, unlike last year, I hadn’t done something silly the day before like ride most of the way up the Stelvio, then down into Switzerland and back up the Passo Umbrail.
I already gave it away in the TLDR–I did it!
What I didn’t go into in the TLDR (because it’s supposed to be short, duh) is that this was hard. Really hard. Up there with the most challenging days I’ve had on a bike hard. Perhaps it would have been easier had this been the only thing on the agenda, but the whole time I was aware that I had a lot more mountains to climb, and I wanted to be able to do so and to enjoy doing so.
On the other hand, had it been the only thing on the agenda, maybe I would have thrashed myself doing it, and found it even more shatteringly difficult as a result.
As I’ve gone into in my previous Gavia posts, the Bormio side is hard. That hadn’t changed, surprisingly. At least this year I remembered the steeper bit towards the top, and didn’t get caught out by it as much. Unfortunately, remembering it did not make it less steep.
My time to the top was pretty much the same as the previous two times I’ve ridden the climb, but how I felt was not. I still had something left in the tank, and was determined that this would be the year. And cue the nerves.
After some time at the summit (thank you Gerardo for the food and moral support!), and the obligatory photo with Andy (what I really wanted was the photo *after* successfully climbing from Ponte di Legno, but I took one anyway to hedge my bets), a group of us set off.
Me in my €7 summit hoodie. Note the hunched shoulders and slightly pigeon-toed posture. I haven’t done the second side yet, and I’m nervous.
The descent actually calmed me down a lot. The impending climb went from an unknown bogeyman hard thing to something about which I could say “ok, I’ve gone up road sections like this before, so this is in the realm of things I can do.”
Also the descent is really spectacular, showing off some of the things I love best about longer mountain climbs–dramatic vistas, multiple changes in ecosystem, and low-traffic riding.
Did I mention the views?
I’m not sure I mentioned the views.
We hung out in Ponte di Legno at a café for a while, enjoying coffee, snacks, and being warm and relaxed. (Even in summer, it’s cold at the top of passes!) Eventually the moment of departure came upon us (attacked us is more like it), and off we went.
Ponte di Legno. It was warm. I don’t know why I’m smiling and Ian looks anxious.
A few of us rode together for a bit, but as Andy got ensconced in a conversation about wine, and the road started to pitch up more steeply, the pace went above what I wanted to be at. (It takes concentration to ride slowly–as Andy gets distracted, he goes faster and faster…) I could have stuck with the group for a while longer, but then what… Later I passed a former member of that group sitting by the side of the road, recovering–that’s the then what.
And then it was just a matter of slowly making my way up the mountain. It’s a climb that alternates between steep and steeper, meaning that for me I couldn’t afford to push hard at any point, because there were no opportunities to recover.
At one point, Andy rode back down a ways, checking in on people and handing out chocolate. I refused at first, doing the “I’m doing fine” thing, and then came to my senses. If Andy thought I needed chocolate, I should listen.
Eventually I reached the tunnel 3 km from the top. I had the choice of stopping to turn on my lights to go through the tunnel, or of walking the old road that the tunnel replaced. Feeling like having cars coming up behind me in the dark tunnel while I crawled up the road, and–quite honestly–needing a break, I decided to walk the old road.
The point of decision.
I stretched my legs, took photos, stopped at the memorial to the soldiers whose truck went off the notoriously dangerous stretch of road before the tunnel was built, and continued to make my way up the mountain under my own power.
In memoriam
So I didn’t exactly bicycle the entire second side of the Gavia, but I my legs powered the whole ascent, so I’m calling it good. Given the difficulty of walking the rock-strewn gravel path of the former road in bicycle shoes, I’m not sure I chose the easier option.
Challenging walking…
…but interesting sights as you walked.
The last 3 km… Well, they weren’t pretty, but I did it. And without stopping, unlike the previous year. And when I got to the top, I had enough energy left to be happy about what I had just accomplished.
Then I got my real summit photo with Andy.
Note the upright posture, outwardly rotated legs, and smile of accomplishment and relief. I’ve done the second side, and I’m happy!
Aside–the big poster of Andy commemorating the 30-year anniversary of his Giro win was a popular photo site at the summit. Lots of people were there taking photos, even when he wasn’t standing there. After he had taken a number of photos with people from our group and random strangers, one person had had enough. They asked him if he could please stand aside so that they could finally get a photo of the poster.
Yup, someone asked Andy Hampsten to get out of the way so that they could take a photo of… Andy Hampsten. I wonder if they’ll ever figure out who they impatiently pushed out of the photo.
There are a lot of big thoughts and feels floating around for me about this day, but it all boils down to a simple thing. It was a Good Day.
Day 2: 54 miles, 9,800 feet.
Me Bike Dolomites One Day 