In Martigny we changed Francs (F) into Francs (CH), and headed up the valley toward Sion and Brig, a flat 82km away on Rt N9. We caught the usual favorable wind of the Rhone valley under cloudy skies and practically no traffic. We rode through Sion (512m) to stop in Sierre (533m) for a grocery store lunch and again at a fruit stand where we munched a large basket of bing cherries that were probably from Washington State USA, as I discovered later when I saw them in the original box at a grocery store. Heavy spring hailstorms ruined most of the cherry crop in the Alps this year. The valley becomes narrower at Visp as we approached Brig (648m) where we rode through the center of town and the castle to head up the Simplon. At Brig-Ried signs indicate that bicycles are not allowed on the new highway, but this has never made sense to me so we rode on as usual. The climb went well without rain or snow, or for that matter any perceptible traffic. Although the clouds were dark, the air was clear and gave us panoramas down the Rhone valley and across into the Aletsch glacier. After the long curved tunnel at Schallberg we passed a rifle range whose axis paralleled the road. Approaching from the target end of the range we heard the crack of passing supersonic bullets, followed by the dull report of the rifle. At the Simplon summit (2005m) a wall of fog hung directly over the top so we took photos of the scene toward Brig, bought a candy bar and some post cards and headed down the Divera river toward Italy. Surprise, the fog was just a dense rain cloud with heavy rain all the way to Varzo (532m) where we stopped for the night.
From Locarno (207m) we stayed on the north side of the valley, passing Bellinzona and Arbedo, to head up the Valle Mesolcina to Mesocco (790m) where I remembered that my old high school friend, Dick Arner's son Kurt, lived in Soazza (pop. 300) and that I should give him a call. I found his number and called his house where his wife Corrine suggested I call him at work in Bellinzona and blam, we were invited to their lovely place in the village of Soazza (558m). We used the abandoned RhB rail line (rails to trails) coasting from the Mesocco train station to the Soazza train station. Here his daughter Rendel, on her MTB, hustled us up some steep streets to their place. We enjoyed the evening with the family, ate heartily, exchanged stories and anecdotes, and got a good night's rest.
The rain didn't let up much, as though the roads needed washing, as we crossed the Splugen summit (2113m) in the clouds. Monte Spluga, the grey town above the hydro lake, was grey wet and shut down, waiting for rays of sunshine to open the umbrellas over the outdoor restaurant tables. We could hardly see the lake as we rode around it to the dam, with its bombastic Mussolini style facade. The long avalanche sheds of the descent kept us out of the rain, but to make up for that, the spectacular scenery and hairpin turns, stacked in the granite wall, were obscured, as was the view of the villages on the opposite wall.
We got a snack in Chiavenna, toured the old town, and headed up the road toward St Moritz. The border at Castasegna was still a narrow one way street controlled by traffic lights. We rode up the valley past the great scenic locations of Soglio that grace so many Swiss calendars but saw nothing of it through the clouds. We stopped at the great hotel Bregalia that has never been remodeled and serves its customers in three meter high rooms with 19th century furniture and fittings. The hotel was closed from the start of WWII until about 1970. There's plenty of place to park a bicycle among the carriages in the reception hall. The geese and ducks out front greet the Postal bus that makes its stop at the post office in the annex. The birds didn't seem to mind the rain and squawked as geese do.
This is a broad high valley whose upper end has four large lakes, the Silser, Silvaplana, Chamfer and Moritzer lakes. They also have Romanish names that are hard to pronounce. We cruised down the hill through St Moritz and on to Pontresina, where after riding up the main drag, we made a food stop at the Coop market at the high end of town. As we headed up the Bernina, we ran into headwinds after the forest above the Montebello curve where we had stopped for a photo of a passing train and the dark and cloudy Morteratsch glacier. The headwind and light drizzle made us put on jackets as we approached the Bernina (2328m) summit where we took photos before descending. Below in the Val Poschiavo the road was dry from Poschiavo (1014m) onward, past La Prese and Miralago on Lago di Poschiavo (962m). From the lake it was a swift descent to Brusio (780m) and Hotel Bettoni for lunch. With the wet weather, there was hardly any traffic even in July.
As a little sun peered out, Mrs Beti served us a great meal on the outdoor deck with a big ice cream desert to keep us going in the event the sun stayed out. We rolled on past the circular viaduct of the RhB railway to Campocologno at the Italian border and turned right in Madonna di Tirano to Stazzona (396m), where a shortcut to the Aprica pass takes off. The cool air was pleasant for the climb, where even in Aprica (1176m) the usual crowds of fresh air seeking tourists were absent. The run down to `Edolo (675m) was smoother than ever, the road getting bigger and better with every ski season. As we climbed toward Ponte di Legno along the Oglio, we passed the Mortirolo pass at Monno (868m), that I sampled last year and found wanting in all departments except steepness. The rain started again before Temu' (1144m) and Silvano Macculotti's hotel, the Veduta dell' Adamello. As at other hotels this year, we were the only guests, so we ate with the family and got to bed early.
Passo Gavia e chiuso!In the old days they placed a barrier across the road, requiring cars to drive around it to risk the trip. One sign stated that tire chains were required on board from September to mid July. Luck had it that we were, but for one day, almost safe.
Tracciato Tortuoso e StrettoSo it's a tortuous and narrow road with little protection from going over the side. The roadway may be covered with snow and chains are obligatory all but six weeks of the year. On top of that there is another sign with a "fill in the blanks" avalanche road closure.
Privo di protezioni Marginate
Possibile Piano Viabile Ghiacciato
SS n300 del Passo Gavia
dal Km 13+000 al Km 37+000
Dal 1 Settembre al 15 Luglio
Obbligo di Catena a Bordo
Chiuso al Transito Dal Km____ al Km ____The rain fizzled out as we climbed higher and we even got rainbows in the gorge below. Meanwhile, it got colder. We kept our rain gear on to keep warm as we got to the now closed cliff section, where rock-fall has made passage more difficult every year since the tunnel was built. The tunnel had not been plowed, leaving a large snow drifts reaching deep into each tunnel portal with just enough room for a car to squeeze by. We took pictures under the cliff and walked our bikes back up to the road over much debris as it started to snow.
Pericolo di Valanghe
At the summit, we checked to see that my poster of the cliff passage was in good shape as we each downed a large hot chocolate. As I stood in front of the fire place with steaming clothes, John called that I should look out front at the weather. The road on which we had just arrived was buried under a two inch blanket of snow that was getting thicker rapidly. This was no place to get stuck for a couple of days, so we took off in a hurry. The snow was so fluffy that traction was OK in spite of its depth.
At the end of the long summit valley we descended to Santa Caterina where the snow turned to a light drizzle as we hurried down to Bormio (1225m) for a hot lunch. After lunch we were still cold and after assessing the snow on the hills around town, we looked up the hotel St Ignazio, hidden in the center of the old town on an alley barely wide enough for a car. I have stayed here on various occasions and always found a good menu and comfort. We made this short day our rest day for this year's tour, staying warm and taking it easy, as it rained.
We visited the Braulio distillery, that in the past had just been a factory, but now was renovated to have a tasting room and museum. I found that Braulio, a herbal liqueur, named after the Val Braulio that leads up to the Stelvio, tastes better hot than cold, and that the snazzy lady that served us made us feel well served. We took a few promotional post cards of Bormio and returned to the hotel for a great dinner a good night's rest.
From above the serpentines of the Val Braulio, I took pictures of the road with a solid line of motos going in opposite directions as they gained altitude. The canyon would have reverberated with the roar, but the weather was doing its part with a wind that muffled their exhaust. From the high valley it was cold enough to require a jacket as snow began to blow around but not stick to the road.
From the Swiss border at the Umbrail summit (2498m) up the last 3.2km to the top, 262m higher, the flow of motos became denser and finally came to a halt. I elbowed my way through the crowd on the last 200m to the summit without having to dismount and rode over the top, stopping at the railing in front of the abyss that drops about 1000m almost straight down under the towering Ortler (3905m). The snow flurries didn't expose much scenery except straight down. We took some photos of the bottomless "hole", bought a supply of the famous postcard that shows the endless stack of hairpins, and headed down the 48 turns to Prato (913m).
From Prato we rode to Spondinig (885m) where we crossed the now defunct FS (Italian Federal Railway) rail line to Malles and headed down the Adige [Etsch] river with a great tail wind blowing us down the Val Venosta to Merano (302m), where we ate lunch in mild sunshine. The wind was too good to waste and the mountains to the north too wet, so we headed off to Bolzano (262m). We came into town by the back way and gave the city center a passing appraisal before going past the train station and up the Isarco [Eisack] valley to Cardano where we turned east into the Eggental Rt N241 toward the Costalunga pass.
The Eggenbach flows from a wall of rock behind Cardano that seems to defy penetration, such that the road is cut into the vertical dark red stone above the river, diving through tunnels where the river has cut a crooked gorge. The road climbs with a 16% grade, receiving little sunshine even at high noon. The gorge gradually opened to grassy valleys and forested uplands as we gained altitude. As we got higher, we got glimpses of the Dolomites as we approached Welschenofen (1182m). We rode past the Hotel Diana, with a mural of Diana the huntress with bow and arrow, where we stopped last year.
At the beautiful Lago di Carezza with its deep blue-green waters we could see to the bottom while the myriad spires of the Latemar (2842m) reflected on the glassy surface. It didn't quite have the post card appeal under grey skies. We rode past the meadows below the Rosengarten (2981m), that also looked a bit grey today, and past the grand Hotel Carezza just below the junction of the Nigerjoch Pass (part of which is the 24% road to Tiers). The top of the Costalunga (1745m) was only a couple of hairpins up, before we rolled down the long gradual descent to Vigo di Fassa (1400m) and on to Fassa di Pre, on Rt N48 along the Torrente Avisio. We found an old comfortable hotel, the Albergo Rizzi and settled in for the night.
The clouds got darker as we rode around the south side of the lake, and I wondered whether my high speed descent would get botched by rain and wind. Alas, only intermittent drops fell as my max speed record also fell, recording a speed that newscasters would have you believe occurs regularly in the TdF and on far gentler slopes. This is a 13% descent, perfectly straight into Ciapela (1450m) and smooth enough to reach terminal velocity. It was a gas.
The ride down the dark gulch below Ciapela along the Pettorina to Caprile (1014m) was also pleasantly swift. At Caprile we headed toward the Falzarego pass. In the canyon above Caprile, the beginnings of a thin shelled concrete dam have stood idle since 1963, after the dam disaster not far away in Longarone. I recall when this project was still alive on my early bike tours. As we got higher, we saw heavy rain farther up and that looked like snow beyond that, judging from the temperature here.
After assessing the weather for about ten seconds, we turned a hard right up the Colle Santa Lucia (1443m), a small bump of a "telegraph" almost vertically above Caprile on Rt N251. From here we descended to Selva di Cadore (1335m) at the base of the Passo di Giau (2233m), stopping at the grocery store for a bite before heading up the valley of the Torrente Fiorentina. The valley does not reveal the Forcla Staulanza (1773m) that finds a passage through the mountains in the shadow of towering Monte Pelmo (3168m) just about straight overhead. Over the Staulanza, we rolled down the Rio Conedo past Forno and Sommariva (810m) below which a large thin shell dam blocks the valley leaving the road to find room in tunnels along the wall. This dam has a permanent relief bore at 2/3 height that prevents it from filling any higher, another monument to Longarone 1963.
We rolled into Longarone (472m) from the south end of town and crossed the Fiume Pieve to climb the wall in tunnels that lead to the notorious dam whose waters destroyed the town, killing everyone who was there. This tall narrow dam, not more than 50 meters across, is wedged in a crevasse that once held back a vast lake. The mountain to the south had a huge soft overburden over a steeply sloped and smooth stone sublayer. As the foot of this mountain was softened by the lake and rain lubricated the sublayer, geologists warned the hydro power ENEL that the mountain would slide. Nothing was done to drain the lake and when the mountain came down it displaced all the water, sending a cutting torch like jet of water into Longarone that lies directly opposite the crevasse. The town was leveled even though the dam sustained no damage.
Today a mountain stands where a lake once was, and rises more than 100m above the dam, more than the lake was deep. We rode over the mountain, past Erto, over the Passo San Osvaldo (827m), and down to Barcis, a town on a beautiful azure lake of the same name. The clear waters of this region flow over riverbeds of white dolomite stone that, unless there are rapids, make the water invisible until it becomes deep enough to make the riverbed green. This is the second day that we rode with prevailing tailwinds and rain that never quite reached us although occasionally a few drops appeared on the dry road.
From Barcis, a road heads down a ravine so narrow that the sky is obscured, and when I last rode there, about eight or ten years ago, I noted that a tremendously expensive new road and tunnel were being built to circumvent this scenic marvel, out here in the middle of nowhere. As we rounded the end of the lake, we took the old road, passing a "closed to through traffic" sign. As we rode into the darkness of the ravine, we encountered a sign warning of a road junction. Now the junction, that we had formerly taken, had a barricade and was apparently impassable. We had planned to go straight anyway, so we continued through the gorge to a large hydro electric plant where most of the river was funneled into an aqueduct of which our road became the roof.
We rode on the aqueduct for several kilometers to where the valley became broader, and where the new road from Barcis emerged from a tunnel, that according to the map is more than 5km long. Our road climbed to join the new road from which a huge dam project became visible. This was the beginning of a curved concrete wall for which a gigantic batch plant for concrete had been built. The project was obviously moribund. I suspect ENEL went ahead with the road and dam construction without adequate geological research that probably stopped the project when research was completed. We have seen so many incomplete, never to be finished, private and government construction projects in Italy, that we have named them "Italian jobs". This one is a classic.
We rode on to Travisio and Gemona di Friuli (268m) on the Tragliamento river, where we found a trailer camp with rooms. Actually the "rooms" were trailers whose tires had sunk into the landscape, having traveled nowhere in years. There was room in the trailer for our bikes so we didn't have to worry about parking. In the warm and pleasant summer evening, we rode to a restaurant where we dined admirably with good wine and a desert of fine local cheeses and fruit. The next morning at the first light, at about four in the morning, some of our camping neighbors arose to face east and repeat their Hare Krishna mantras a few hundred times before returning to their beds.