Cyclist
Big Ride: Glory of the snow on the Passo Giau
There’s just over 20km remaining on Stage 16 of the 2021 Giro d’Italia. Ineos Grenadiers’ Egan Bernal accelerates away from the small group of favourites that remain in contention on the Passo Giau and, with his maglia rosa covered by an all-black winter kit, hunts the remnants of the day’s breakaway scattered on the snow-covered mountain up ahead.
But the coverage cuts out in the poor weather, and all we’re left with is a fixed position shot of the finish in Cortina d’Ampezzo until eventually the Colombian emerges from the gloom to win the stage, 20 seconds ahead of Romain Bardet and Damiano Caruso.
It’s the first thing that comes to mind when I think of the Giau, which is ironic given it was the one bit of the stage that no one actually saw. Today I’m rewriting that memory.
Our ride starts in the town of Arabba and takes in the climb of the Giau before returning via the Passo Falzarego. My ride partner for today, local guide Tommaso Cominetti, meets me at our hotel, which is just up the road from the centre of Arabba, and we start by rolling round the corner to fill up our bottles with cold water from a fountain.
The sun’s shining and the views are clear, but Arabba is already 1,600m above sea level and the first snow of the season hit the area just a few days ago, so it’s not warm. Tommaso bumped into his dad on the way to meet me and in proper parent fashion was told to put on an extra layer over his company jersey. Given the altitude and the amount of descending on the menu today, it seems like a wise move.
The down before the up
It’s pretty much all downhill from Arabba to the foot of the Giau, so we zip up and make the most of the sunshine and the views of the mountains as we roll out of town.
After a quick opening 10km we turn off onto a steeper backroad where a few hairpins lower us down the valley. This area’s beauty makes it easy to forget its history, but then we ride past a First World War grave shaped like a cross in the ground, where about 6,000 soldiers are buried, and just beyond that is the river that became the Italy/Austria border during the conflict.
It’s a reminder of the role the Dolomites played in the war, and not the last one we’ll have today. There’s no time to stop and reflect, though; we keep riding on down past some wooden sculptures of animals in Savinèr di Laste to the town of Caprile, where we turn off and begin to point upwards.
Tommaso lived in London for a few years so his English is very good and he’s keen to convince me my bike is heavy compared to his hill climb-worthy rim brake classic. He gets his excuses in, claiming he’s spent more time mountain biking recently, but as someone who rides here regularly he’s still much faster than me on the climbs. It’s a relief, he says, as his most recent clients were an American couple whose idea of a holiday was riding full gas for the whole route. Thankfully I’m here for a good time not a quick time.
Bella Giau
The hairpins start here, and while we’re greeted by flirtations with double-digit gradients, this section is easier than what’s in store. We rise up slowly past cabins packed with logs. There’s more tree felling than normal going on here at the moment; Tommaso tells me the forests are under threat from deadly bug spores and the effects are clear to see – a large number of the trees appear pale grey and there are vast patches of land where others have already been removed.
As we near the end of the first section of climbing at Colle Santa Lucia we come to another artwork, except this one’s not made of wood. It’s a metal sculpture of a tree growing out of a felled log hanging off the mountain. Tommaso explains the current crisis isn’t the only threat to the local tree life and that this is a tribute to the millions of trees destroyed during a storm in 2018.
We stop at a cafe and despite it being just past 11am Tommaso insists it’s not too late for a cappuccino. We take time to enjoy it and refuel before the going gets tougher.
A short descent takes us out of the village and we follow the Passo Giau sign left. This is where the climb officially starts, despite the fact we’ve been riding uphill for about 7km. It’s not too long before we pass the spot where Bernal attacked and the TV coverage cut out.
The gradient on this side of the Giau is around 9-10% all the way up its 9.8km, so while there isn’t much respite I can find a comfortable rhythm. From the official start there are 29 tornanti but they’re mostly in the back half of the climb, which means I have to rely on the many small bridges over the Codalonga river to find some moments of flat relief.
The business feels like it truly begins after the tenth hairpin, with two short tunnels and our first view of the iconic peaks. We pass several tiny cabins that I’m told are used to store wood by households further down the valley. It’s here we have our first hints of snow on the ground and everything above us has a white sprinkling.
The road at this point in the climb is more winding and we start to get a proper view back down the mountain. With all the Dolomites in view covered in snow, it feels truly epic. While there aren’t the snowbanks of Bernal’s Giro, the temperature is certainly more bearable and the effort means we haven’t needed to put our jackets back on.
Getting into the last couple of kilometres the mountainside really opens up, with little plant life and only the occasional building, to the extent we can see the road above us for pretty much the first time. It makes the gradient look like it has shallowed, but it doesn’t feel like it.
We ride past another rifugio and I realise the rock I’ve been using as my reference point for the summit was a false alarm, and the real one is closer than I thought. I see the sign for hairpin 27 and Tommaso points out the rifugio at the real crest of the climb where we’re going to stop for lunch – as if I needed more motivation to push on. We’re surrounded by white now and the temperature is beginning to bite. One last dig.
It’s packed in the Berghotel restaurant, mostly with cyclists. Thankfully Tommaso has found us a seat and orders us some electrolytes and a very hearty venison ragu that is curiously delivered to our table by a robot. Once filled, warmed up and espressoed, we get our layers back on to brace the outdoors. It’s cold standing still at the top so it’s going to get even colder going down.
False gods
The faster we descend, the colder it gets. Tommaso is feeling the temperature more than I am, so he sits behind me even though I know he could drop me in a flash.
There are quite a few hairpins on this side of the Giau too, but it doesn’t take long to get to the bottom and it’s not long after that we’re getting ready to climb again. The sign for our next target, the Passo Falzarego, also indicates that Arabba is a further 20km further on from the summit. Knowing that the day started with a long descent I’m going to have to keep hold of some matches.
The Falzarego starts as soon as we take the turning and Tommaso goes into full guide mode. He tells me the name Falzarego comes from the words Faúza Règo, which in the Ladin language native to this area means ‘false king’. It’s related to a folk tale in which the King of the Fanes – whose land included this part of the Dolomites – betrays his daughter and kingdom in return for riches and is turned to stone. Tommaso also tells me the house we pass to our right at the start of the climb used to be the set for adult films.
The Falzarego isn’t as hard as the Giau, with a 5.2% average over around 10km, but it’s still not easy. After the opening couple of kilometres we start to warm up again and it’s time to de-layer. It takes a while to get any kind of scenery that isn’t just trees, but eventually an enormous dolomite rockface appears overhead. Tommaso is also a keen rock climber – he teaches at a climbing gym in the winter – and is quick to point out all the riskier ascents.
This side of the Falzarego feels like a slog, partially because of my tired legs and partially because there’s little distraction – even the corners are more curves than bends. That does mean, however, that when we do get to the juicy section with more exposed peaks and fewer trees, it’s more rewarding and I know we’re not far off the top. It’s colder here, so I lift my pace for the final stretch.
Unlike the Giau, it’s quiet at the summit but there’s a strong wind that’s further dropping the temperature so we’re quick to don jackets again. This descent gives us a proper look at Mount Lazaguoi, which rises up above the pass. This was the site of a First World War conflict in which the Italians and Austrians dug tunnels through the mountain and tried to set off mines under their enemies.
The result is a big hole near the top that’s easy to spot both due to the departure from the classic dolomite rock and the cable car from the Falzarego that docks nearby.
We don’t hang around, only slowing for the temporary traffic lights installed around the workers repairing a huge crack in the tarmac. Back on the road we came down at the start of the ride, it’s time for one final push back up to Arabba. I get my head down and think about Egan Bernal again. The snow on the Giau has made our ride special, and while Bernal may not have had his big moment on the television, I can now imagine just how epic that day felt.
Can’t see the wood
Northern Italy’s trees are disappearing fast after facing a second deadly threat in just five years
In October 2018 Storm Vaia ripped through the Trentino-Alto Adige, Veneto, Lombardy and Friuli Venezia Giulia regions with winds reaching 200kmh. It destroyed 41,000 hectares of forests, 15 million trees and 8.6 million cubic metres of timber. Veneto bore the brunt, with over a billion euros’ worth of damage. And that’s before talking about the floods that the storm’s rain caused.
While trees have been regrowing, the area has been facing another threat for the past few years in the form of the tiny bark beetle. It’s not entirely unrelated to the storm as the beetle preys on weak plants, so the spruce trees that did survive Vaia have been targeted by the beetles, which tunnel under the bark and stop the flow of sap, causing the trees to lose their needles, turn grey and die.
In early 2023 it was reported the beetles had caused over €100 million of economic damage from lost timber, however the authorities have to be very careful about removing too many trees as it could cause slope instability, which can lead to avalanches and landslides.
How we did it
Travel
Direct flights go to Venice Marco Polo from London, Manchester, Bristol and Edinburgh. From there it’s a 160km drive to Arabba, which should take about 2h 20min.
Accommodation
Cyclist stayed at Hotel Mesdì in Arabba, which describes itself as a bike hotel and has a bike store, laundry service, workshop and even a pick-up service if you need it. Prices start from €140 (around £115) per night.
Thanks
Many thanks to Jessica De Vallier from Arabba Fodom Turismo for organising our stay, local legend Walter for driving our photographer around and pointing out which speed cameras were fake, and guide Tommaso Cominetti for riding with us in the cold and for providing a wealth of historical and geographical knowledge of the area.
The post Big Ride: Glory of the snow on the Passo Giau appeared first on Cyclist.