Passo dello Stelvio and Passo del Bernina
(conclusion)

I rode back down to where the Umbrail turnoff was; the summit was no more than a 10-meter climb from the junction. The other side (i.e., the northern) was within Switzerland, so arrivederci Italia and hallo Schweiz. I zipped up my windbreaker and prepared for what I expected to be a very, very long descent (16 kms) down to Sta. Maria.

(Above: The ummm...Umbrail Pass, back into Switzerland)

But going down the Umbrail was not the effortless joyride I thought it would be. Sure the scenery was quite spectacular and the whole area had just the right level of remoteness to it. But the road was quite narrow, steep, and tightly banked almost the entire way. I didn’t have the nerve to let ‘er rip, which was probably a good thing because the road was without railings, one miscalculation and…

(Below: Careful there, son; those dropoffs look mighty deep)

But, as I said, the scenery was quite spectacular, though I couldn’t fully scan it until midway down, where the road became somewhat less twisty. I stopped a couple of times just to gaze, awestruck by the beauty. Halfway down, the road became unpaved (though very rideable) and continued unpaved for quite a while.

(Above: Continuing down from the Umbrail towards Santa Maria)

As exhilarating as the descent was, I looked forward to the bottom as the narrowness of the road made me quite nervous. My hands were likewise getting numb from having ridden the brakes nonstop. I couldn’t get over how steep the road appeared as I went down it—it was so curvy and steep that cars couldn’t put enough distance between themselves and me. I was most impressed with the number of cyclists tackling the Stelvio from this side.

When I planned this route, most of my focus had been on the climbs leading up to, and including, the Passo del Stelvio. For some reason, I thought the rest of the ride was more-or-less flat to downhill after Stelvio.

Was I wrong! After getting to Sta. Maria (elev. 1,375m), I stopped at a store to buy more water, for I still had 65 kilometers to go to reach St. Moritz. I took out the map and was mortified to realize that, waiting for me, 13 ½ kilometers further west, was the 2,149-meter Ofenpass, with long sections Michelin-rated "<<" near the summit. Though tired, I was sure that I could manage it, I was upset with myself more than anything for this dumb oversight.

The climb to Ofenpass turned out to be quite a challenge, especially after having gone the distance I had to that point. A full two-thirds of the 800-meter climb took place in the last six kilometers, mostly at a 10% grade.

Ofenpass was probably the entire ride’s emotional nadir. My altitude sickness was long gone, but for some reason I couldn’t get over the fact that I hadn’t expected this and I felt as if I was riding the Ofenpass against my will (which, in a way, was true). Had it been less steep, I probably would have laughed it off, but humor was furthest from my mind at that time. It was then that I became consciously aware of the role mental preparation played in my bike rides.

But I’m a big boy now and besides, what was I supposed to do—cry about it? I reached the Ofenpass summit with a big sigh of relief after a few tough kilometers. Now expecting an even bigger reward in terms of a faster and longer descent, I started going down the other side.

(Below: !@*$%!*...cuss...swear...Ofenpass subdued)

The road entered the pretty Swiss National Park. Though the road went downhill, it wasn’t quite the screaming descent that I was looking forward to. After about 10 kilometers the road turned completely flat and even slightly uphill. Then even more uphill, and more uphill. What the…? More than slightly vexed by now, I irritably pulled out the map and there it was: a climb of almost 200 meters to "Ova Spin." Thus the tragic figure cycled up another steep road. The road finally tired of teasing me, and without further interruption got me down to Zernez.

(Above: A pastoral scene near Ofenpass inside the Swiss National Park)

Zernez and St. Moritz, it turned out, differed in elevation by 400 meters. I guess that was why Zernez was in the LOWER Engadine and St. Moritz in the UPPER. Honestly, the amount of route planning I had done, one would think I wouldn’t have any troubles with such things as uphills and downhills, but there it is….

I was hoping that the 30 kilometers that separated the two would somehow dilute the 400 meters into nothingness, but alas, the climbs came in two distinct instalments—the first just outside Zernez, and the second on the finishing 2 kilometers into St. Moritz. Riding 30 kilometers after having done 150 is rarely ever fun—riding it in the teeth of a strong headwind makes it even less so. I rode the last stretch mentally numb, noticing such insignificant things as the overwhelming number of Subarus in this part of Switzerland. Something like one Subaru in every five. For a while there I thought I was in Northern California. I suppose it makes sense for the Swiss to favor four-wheel drives because of winter travel necessities, but what is the Californian excuse? Musings such as these kept me pre-occupied until I noticed the final uphill that would deposit me back to St. Moritz.

(Above: The En River near Zuoz, on the way back to St. Moritz)

I was absolutely wasted when I got back to the hotel. I checked the altimeter and I had climbed over 4,000 meters (13,000 feet), a full 1,000 meters more than I had predicted. At dinner that evening, I did ample justice to successive plates of Gnocchi and Risotto—to the waiters’ great mirth and amusement.

(Below: Back in St. Moritz)

End.

Last Modified: September 05, 1999