The Dolomites: Passo di Fedaia
(continuation)

My approach to Passo di Fedaia began with a gently rising road along the southeastern side of the Marmolada. To my right was Monte Civetta (3,218m), which, if my Italian serves me right, means Owl Mountain. At the foot of Civetta was an attractive-looking resort town of Alleghe, built along the eastern edge of an inviting lake that bore the same name. Ever so steadily, I crept closer and closer to the Marmolada. To this point, I had cumulatively climbed over 2,300 meters (7,500 feet) and another 1,200 meters (4,000 feet) loomed immediately ahead.

(Above: The Marmolada looms from Caprile)

The turn off for the S641, the Passo di Fedaia road, was just past the town of Caprile. Passo de Fedaia’s fearsome reputation precedes it, and I decided to ride conservatively for as long as I could, to conserve energy for what I had heard to be an outrageously steep finishing stretch. I took my normal pace and slowed it down, something that was surprisingly more difficult than it sounds. This strategy worked well until I reached Sotoguda, about six kilometers in.

(Above: The 1,000 meter climb to Passo di Fedaia begins)

Immediately past Sotoguda, the road turned very steep for about one and a half kilometers. I came upon a lit tunnel, on the other side of which was a short downhill(!) followed by a widely banked right turn. That was where the Calvary began. The long, steep, 16% stretch was on a fairly straight road built on the NE side of the Marmolada range amidst open, uninspiring scenery. Here, the cumulative effect of the day’s efforts began to be felt by my legs. By the time I started the last third of the steep section, I was climbing to my limit, having ridden conservatively notwithstanding.

(Below: The sole tunnel of the eastern approach to Passo di Fedaia)

My face wore a permanent grimace. And it was there for the constantly flowing traffic to see. Their facial expression upon going by me ran the gamut from pity to bemusement. And how I hate to be pitied when I’m riding. I was climbing the pass on purpose, ferevinssakes! Don’t feel sorry for me.

(Above and Below Left: The twisty part of the climb, past the brutal straight section)
(Below Right: The straight, steep section)

But even this concern was soon engulfed by the bigger issue of making it to the summit. The straightaway seemed to have gone on forever. Way up ahead, I could make out what appeared to be a series of switchbacks, looking just as steep. Just when I thought I couldn’t go on much longer, the straight stretch ended and the road twisted to the left, near the base of a chairlift. And the incline eased considerably. Alas, the relief was too brief and the succeeding bends continued at 15%. But here the switchbacks actually helped in terms of breaking down the climb into component sub-climbs. I lived from turn to turn, so to speak, not thinking beyond reaching the next switchback. This went on for a couple of kilometers. After one final surge, the road bent to the right. My eyes eagerly sought, and quickly found, the only thing that could have lifted my spirits at that moment: the "Passo di Fedaia, 2057m" sign.

I dismounted, panting like a dog. The Marmolada, rising above the lake, looked resplendent in its permanent snowfields and its impressive bulk, and was simultaneously impressive and intimidating. Lago di Fedaia, placid amidst the windy gap, appeared deep and cold.

(Below: Glory revealed--Marmolada from the north)