The Dolomites: Passo di Fedaia
June 20, 1999

Distance: 108 miles/173 kilometers
Elevation: 13,013 feet/3,965 meters
Difficulty: 10/10
Scenery: 10/10

Passes Covered:

 

It was Day 1 of my six days in Alto Adige region of Sudtirol. For some reason I don’t remember now, I chose to base myself in Bolzano, elevation about 800 feet, for rides in the Dolomites where passes routinely exceeded 6,000 feet in height.

Bolzano is located at the head of a very long and fertile Adige valley, where the Adige, having joined forces with the river Isarco, on its 300-km long journey south to its outlet in Golfo di Venezia, but not before having paid the historic Italian towns of Trento, Roverento, and Verona visits, seems to get rejuvenated on its layover after having travelled all the way from the Stelvio National Park to the west.

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that Bolzano is enclosed by steep mountains all around, save the narrow strip of Adige valley. To Bolzano’s north, Monti Sarentin (Sarntaler Alpen), where the spectacular 2,214-meter Passo Pennes and 2,094-meter Passo di Monti Giovo lie waiting at the end of very long climbs, cradle small medieval towns that can only be enjoyed after tackling 18%-20% approaches up its brutal slopes. To its west, past the Etschtal valley, the Altopiano della Predaia stands guard; and further back, the Gruppo di Brenta. And to Bolzano’s east? Well, to the east are the Dolomites, generally considered the most challenging of the Alpine cycling playgrounds by the most intrepid of bicyclists. Up here, roads as steep as 15% and 20% routinely threw themselves at you like…well…like the painted ladies on 7th Avenue on a sweltering midsummer’s night.

The Dolomites

Though nominally part of the Alps, the Dolomites are a geologically distinct mountain range. Dolomite rock is actually calcium magnesium carbonate (limestone, by contrast, is calcium carbonate). The presence of magnesium makes the rock harder and more crumbly. Thus, as weathering and the freeze-thaw cycle occur, dolomitic rock erodes easily, creating the endless varieties of fascinating shapes and forms that somewhat resemble some of the sandstone formations of the American southwest. The Dolomites are named after a French geologist, Déodat de Dolomieu, who in the late 18th century collected and studied samples of the rocks from the area.

Bolzano itself is a nice enough town, though I wouldn’t recommend that anyone travel great distances just to visit it. But its strategic location served my purpose well: it could be reached quite painlessly from Munich (via the Dolomite Express—the "Paganini" train), and it was a convenient platform from which to explore the Veneto region of Italy near Venice (I took one day off from riding and spent the day in Verona).

(Below: The old road from Blumau)

The agenda for my first riding day was an ambitious circuit going over five mountain passes through the heart of the Dolomites. The course featured several severe climbs, notably: the old road out of Blumau (a protracted 24%), a 20% stretch to Passo Nigra, 14% and 18% stretches on Passo San Pellegrino, and the legendary eastern approach to Passo di Fedaia with its five kilometers at 16%. In fact, the course was so up and down that there were only two flat stretches, the five kilometers out of Bolzano and the 11 kilometers between Canazei and Possa di Fazza on the western side of Fedaia.

Fireworks started a mere six kilometers east of Bolzano. As I stared up a minor road unsure whether it was the one I was looking for, I asked a sprightly 70-year old signora carrying a basket of bright-red cherries whether this was the road to Passo Nigra. Yes was the answer, though she pointed to an alternative road through the tunnel just ahead, helpfully suggesting that that one was less steep.


(Above: A lovely grotto beside a waterfall in Blumau)

But I was eager, this being the first pass on my first day in the Dolomites. The old road out of Blumau, with its long 24% grade, had been called the steepest surfaced road in the Alps by the OCD guide. The road climbs steeply out of Blumau for a short stretch, flattening as it left the town and entered a very pretty canyon. The road then stairsteps its way up 700 meters with alternating mild grades and steep 20% pitches. Challenging, yes, but so far nothing extraordinary.


(Above: At Brei, start of the 24% gradient)

All this changed when I got to Brei, approximately 2 kilometers before the old road joined up with the newer one just before Tiers. Mind you, I’ve rarely been on a road that’s north of 20%, let alone one that was greater than 20% AND went on for 2 kilometers. My heart was beating so fast I thought it was going to jump out of my chest. I went anaerobic and I couldn’t inhale oxygen fast enough. By the time the road levelled off where it joined the newer one, I had climbed 720 meters (2,300 feet) in 7 kilometers and, as the English would say, "absolutely knackered." The road was actually a lot worse than the numbers would suggest because the first 4 kilometers were interrupted by "flatter" sections—most of the elevation were gained in the last half of the climb. Relief came, albeit briefly, as the road somewhat flattened as it entered the quiet village of Tiers on a high valley.

The alpine scenery was positively spellbinding. It was early Sunday morning and in the quaint villages I passed—Tiers and St. Ciprian—the locals, garbed in their attractive traditional Tyrolean outfits, were out for the Sunday church services. A few waved at me.


(Above: A few kilometers before Passo Nigra)

Serious climbing resumed after this respite. Just past St. Ciprian was another 20% stretch as the road continued its relentless push towards Passo Nigra. The road took shelter under the cover of coniferous trees but here and there I was able to take in outstanding views of the great valley below and of the Alpe Siusi and Renon peaks to the north. After one final 14% stretch I reached Passo Nigra (1,688 meters) and the western side of the impressive rock formation of the Rosengarten (Catinaccio) group. The six and a half kilometers between passi Nigra and Costalunga were fairly easy and provided me with the first real opportunity to catch my breath from all the non-stop climbing I’d done to this point.


(Above: Passo Nigra, 1,688 meters)