Marathona dles Dolomites - Part II
Italy (I wouldn’t be wrong if I said “again...”).
Main event – July 5th, 2019, but there’s a bit of before and after to cover here too…
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| Passo Giau |
A year ago (2018) I rode the Maratona (unfortunately, just the medium route, even though the plan was to do the real, full Maratona. However, the looming bad weather sabotaged that idea, so I had to settle for the medium one). I promised myself that next year I would come back and ride the full Maratona.
Tuesday, July 2nd, 2019.
Some system was being launched at a factory (the specifics don’t matter for the story). It was actually one of those software updates for the automatic control system in part of the factory, but, like I said, that’s not important…
I was waiting for the hosts to connect some new signals so we could test the functionality (to be honest, I was almost bored out of my mind).
I glanced at the clock out of boredom and realized it was the second of July.
Wait!?!?!???!!!??!?!
The Maratona is ridden in the first week of July, and I had completely forgotten that little detail. I quickly checked the weather forecast:
- Thursday (04.07): cloudy but dry,
- Friday (05.07): perfect weather,
- Saturday (06.07): cloudy during the day, rain in the evening,
- Sunday (07.07 – race day): changeable (a mix of sun and rain, sunny in the morning, but as the day progresses, more clouds and rain).
I imagine my pupils were shining like stars. I consulted with my superiors to see if there’d be any issue with me taking Thursday and Friday off.
Of course, there wasn’t; it’s never been a problem, but it’s polite to ask.
Five minutes later, I had reserved a place to stay in Arabba (which is right on the Maratona race route). There weren’t many options left for accommodation, and I assume someone canceled their booking about six seconds before I hit “Search” on Booking.com, and I snatched it up immediately (perfect!). Usually, the whole weekend (actually, the entire week leading up to the race) is like an occupation of the region; everything’s packed and booked solid, so it was an absolute stroke of luck that I managed to find a place just 20 meters from the race course. As I mentioned in my previous story (about the 2018 Maratona), there are around 9,000 participants (actually more), and they don’t typically come alone; they usually bring company. This puts additional pressure on the already full accommodation capacity of the region during summer, especially around race time. It seems I got lucky this time.
Now the trip planning begins, and roughly it looks like this:
Thursday, July 4th, 2019
Well, not exactly morning... It’s still dark out. Actually, it’d be more accurate to say: Night – almost morning…
Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I’m packing up our stuff, the bikes (Nikola’s and mine), and we’re off. I’m in a hurry to get to our accommodation as early as possible so I can squeeze in a short ride.
Everything’s going smoothly. There’s a bit of traffic around Ljubljana (then again, there’s always traffic around Ljubljana). Once we passed it, I thought we were “home free,” but no, not even close. We hit endless roadworks that practically brought us to a standstill. We’re crawling through Slovenia, and I’m starting to feel like walking might be faster...
I stop at a gas station to take a breather from the excitement and the adrenaline rush of driving 5-10 km/h in stop-start mode, all of this happening in one lane of the highway (the other two are closed), surrounded by trucks and lorries. Since we stopped, I filled up the tank, and the smells from the little restaurant at the gas station reminded us that we were, in fact, quite hungry.
We grabbed a few bites...
Somehow, the world looks entirely different now (when, for example, you’re no longer hungry).
We continue at the speed of, let’s say, an athletic snail. Shortly after, the roadworks end, and freedom (well, speed) is back…
We passed Slovenia, finally…
We enter Italy, and soon enough, the Alps begin to appear in the distance, ahhhhhh finally, a “proper” view...
Despite the episode in Slovenia, our progress was still good (I think that “Morning,” or rather “Night,” worked out well for keeping us on schedule).
About an hour before reaching our accommodation, we stop in Forno di Zoldo to stretch our legs a bit. There’s a nice parking area, and right next to it, what do you know, a Pizzeria-Gelateria. It’s almost 4 PM, and our stomachs are starting to rumble.
“Let’s get some ice cream, since we’ve stopped,” and of course, we ended up getting pizza too, because, well, why not?
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| From the outside, nothing special. The ice cream was good, the pizza was excellent (or we were just very hungry, hard to tell). |
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| The unmistakable backdrop of the Dolomites. |
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| Mount Civetta (3220m above sea level). |
After a break and some food, we continue onward. We arrive in front of our accommodation, and that’s when the real “mess” begins.
It turns out we’re staying in hotel "X," which had rented (or something?) part of hotel "Y" (which, of course, wasn’t explicitly stated anywhere on the booking papers). Now, the folks at hotel "Y" were pretending to be clueless, so I had to find the original "X" hotel (it was awkwardly listed on the Booking papers, and I barely managed to figure out where it was located). Once there, I received the key and detailed instructions on how to get to our room. I asked at the reception of hotel "X" if it would be a problem to keep the bikes in the room, and they said, as far as they were concerned, it wasn’t an issue, but that I should still ask the owners of "Y" since it was technically their hotel. We get back to "Y," and no one acknowledges us. Fine, we take the bikes up to the room, and if anyone has a problem with it, we’ll deal with it later.
Nobody had any problems…
To make the situation even more interesting, the people at "Y" continued to ignore us, but we weren’t allowed to use the lobby, dining room, or any other common areas of the "Y" hotel since our official hotel was "X." So, if we wanted to sit in a lobby, we’d have to walk 300 meters uphill to sit in the lobby of hotel "X" and enjoy it there... What a disaster...
Classic Italians...
On the other hand, the accommodation itself was fantastic—an entire apartment. Besides the three of us, another 3-4 people could have easily fit without any discomfort. And nobody bothered us, asked us anything, or even checked on us.
Finally settled in.
The plan was to take Nikola on a ride up Passo Campolongo before dark (it’s not too challenging, and at that time, he still considered himself a “flatrider,” so I didn’t want to push him too hard). It would be a good “warm-up” for the next day’s ride. I checked the clock, and it was just around 5 PM, so I thought, let’s go for a little drive (as if 900 km from Novi Sad wasn’t enough). By the way, this place is farther north and west compared to Novi Sad, so it gets dark much later here.
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| The wooden sign for CORVARA, back at the scene of the “crime,” just one year later. |
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| Because of the race on Sunday, there were road closure plans (very important since we planned to return to Novi Sad on Sunday, and we needed to know which roads would be closed). |
We got back to the accommodation, rested a bit, and around 7 PM, Nikola and I set off for Passo Campolongo.
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| A view of Arabba after about 500 meters from the start, the climb to Campolongo begins right from the hotel. |
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| A glimpse of the other side. |
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| Passo Campolongo – conquered. My “flatrider” made only one stop before the top. |
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| This time, it’s not cows but sheep. |
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| We descended from Campolongo to Corvara. |
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| Campolongo by bike for the second time today. |
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| Descending back towards Arabba. |
We arrive at the hotel, change clothes, and head out to grab something sweet, since the afternoon pizza is still holding strong.
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| An apple strudel (apfelstrudel) wraps it up perfectly. |
That’s all for this Thursday. It was long, but we accomplished everything, even more than I expected.
Friday, July 5th, 2019
As they say, it’s “D-day” (except this time it’s not the Normandy landings, it’s something else entirely).
I got up, got dressed, packed the things I’d need in my backpack, and had breakfast. I set off a little after 7:30 AM.
From Arabba, the climb to Passo Pordoi begins immediately (well-known from last year, when it unexpectedly took a toll on me). Literally, after about 50m from the hotel, the climb starts, and it immediately hits you with a 10% gradient with no intention of letting up. Being not quite warmed up, that gradient was not particularly welcome, but it is what it is—I don’t get to choose.
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| Still in Arabba, and the view is already perfect. |
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| It’s not even 8 AM yet, and the sun is still relatively low. |
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| Of course, the climb “treats” you right away with a series of hairpin turns. |
As I climb, the view of the valley slowly becomes more beautiful, just like last year, except this time the effect of mist rising into clouds is missing. Last time, it probably rained for a few days before we arrived, so the moisture was “rising” up.
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| Wherever you look, the views are stunning. |
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| About halfway up—looking back at the valley where I came from (somewhere down in that “hole” is Arabba). |
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| The peaks of Piz Boè in all their glory. |
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| Just a little more, and Passo Pordoi is conquered. |
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| One down, on to the next... A quick break at the top, picked up a souvenir for Mira, and off I go again. The view from Passo Pordoi is once again stunning, with a clear sight of Passo Sella and the Stone City. This time, no clouds obstruct the view :). Everything is beautiful and clear. |
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| The cable car taking hikers to the top of Piz Boè. |
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| Passo Sella and the Stone City. |
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| Stone City. |
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| A view of the mountains above Canazei. |
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| Sella |
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| The beginning of the climb to Passo Sella. |
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| The descent from Pordoi, like last year, is quite chilly. |
During the descent from Passo Pordoi, there’s a section (a few kilometers) where it’s shaded most of the day, and it’s noticeably colder there (Garmin shows 9°C, which is pretty cold for July).
I start climbing Passo Sella and overtake a cyclist on a mountain bike. I think to myself, “Well, finally, I get to pass someone today…”
I ride, climb, and forget about the guy I passed. I stop to take some photos, and he passes me and gets ahead again. I push a little harder, pass him again, and ride until he’s out of my rearview mirror. But when I stop to take pictures, he catches up and passes me again, and this happens about 5-6 times.
Just before the Sella pass, there’s some roadwork (in 2019), and I stop at a traffic light. A few minutes later, the Italian guy catches up. We introduce ourselves—his name is Luigi. He doesn’t speak much English, but we managed to communicate well enough.
I didn’t overtake him again after that. Instead, I matched his pace, and we reached Passo Sella together.
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| Marmolada, still under snow. |
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| Marmolada, the highest peak in the Dolomites (3343m above sea level). |
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| Passo Sella |
At the top of Sella, we took a short break, enjoyed the views, and of course, took some photos. It’s simple: wherever you look, it’s breathtaking. I don’t know if it’s because of our monotonous flatlands back home, but here, everything is just phenomenal.
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| Stone City |
Luigi and I continue together. The descent from Sella follows, then the climb to Passo Gardena.
I ask him if he’s tried the apple strudel at the hotel on the climb to Gardena, and he says, “No.”
OK, I treat him to the strudel—you can’t miss it, it’s sooo good.
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| Stone City, at the start of the climb to Gardena. |
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| The pie, perfect... I got the last slice from the tray, and they even threw in an extra edge for free (it really doesn’t get any better than that). |
We arrive back at the hotel, sit outside, the sun is shining, and the weather is fantastic. No need to even talk about the pie—the picture says it all. Finally, we have a chance to get to know each other a little better. As we eat the pie, we chat “between bites.” Luigi is originally from the Amalfi region, but he lives and works here in northern Italy in Canazei as a computer science teacher. What struck me as odd is that his English isn’t great, but we manage to communicate without much trouble. In fact, the more we talk, the better he gets (he’s clearly a bit rusty from not speaking English often).
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| The perfect pie, perfect weather, perfect place, perfect view, and it’s perfect that I have company... |
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| Passo Gardena in the distance. |
We continue our climb to Gardena. After the hotel, there’s a section that’s quite easy to ride (I’m finally warming up again), and then the switchbacks start, and the views become absolutely stunning.
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| Halfway up Passo Gardena. |
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| In this picture, you can see the road we descended from Sella. |
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| The views of the surrounding peaks are phenomenal. |
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| Passo Gardena—another one down. |
A quick break at the top, and of course, some more photos...
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| A picture together, Luigi (in the background, doing something I still don’t understand...). |
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| A view straight toward Corvara from Passo Gardena. |
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| A view to the right from Gardena. |
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| A view to the left from Gardena. |
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| Halfway down the descent toward Corvara. |
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| Another one of those wooden town signs, while back home they put up plastic ones on roundabouts, where half the letters don’t even light up at night (we’re just not in the same league). |
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| Maratona dles Dolomites – a bike made of wood, located at the entrance to Corvara from the Gardena side (just to be clear, the bike is over 3 meters long, entirely made of wood except for the chain). |
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| A view of Gardena from Corvara. |
We arrive at the bottom, I snap a picture of the wooden bike, and we continue on toward Passo Campolongo. Of course, I’m gawking at the mountains around me—the views are incredible.
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| At this point, I’m even boring myself with this location and these pictures, but I just can’t help it. |
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| A quick selfie. |
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| Simply put—paradise on earth, paradise for cyclists, and honestly for everyone else too. |
We’re climbing slowly at Luigi’s pace. To be honest, it suits me. There’s still a lot of climbing ahead today, so this pace works. I had planned to ride “defensively,” meaning to go slow and not push myself too hard, and now I have Luigi setting a slower pace than I would have on my own. But it doesn’t matter—the company has been a refreshing change on today’s ride. Speed, today, isn’t important.
Little by little, we reach Passo Campolongo. The last summit I’ll share with Luigi today.
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| Passo Campolongo—first time today. |
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| Last picture with Luigi. |
Once we descend into Arabba, Luigi will head right at the roundabout toward Passo Pordoi, while I’ll go left toward Passo Giau (but first, I’ll meet up with Mira and Nikola). I’ve already called Mira to let her know I’ll be in Arabba in about 10 minutes, and that I’d like us to grab something to eat together (lunch).
Descents always seem to pass disproportionately quickly, so before I knew it, we’re at the roundabout in Arabba. I said my goodbyes to Luigi.
Mira and Nikola were already waiting for me before the roundabout. A quick introduction to Luigi, and then he went on his way while we sat down at a nearby restaurant. The food was great! After a little something sweet, I was ready to keep going.
My legs were hungry (as they say: “like they belong to someone else”), and everything felt tough. Luckily, from Arabba, it’s a gentle downhill at first, so things go better than expected. I ride through several typical Alpine villages, taking in the views and enjoying myself... The road has long since stopped going downhill, and now it’s up and down, climbing and descending several times. Honestly, the climbing isn’t exactly enjoyable at this point, but I’m trying not to wear myself out too much before Passo Giau (which, on paper, is the worst).
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| Typical Alpine architecture. |
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| Civetta in the distance, slowly getting closer. |
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| Civetta getting even closer. |
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| A platform with a stunning view. |
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| A picture of a typical Alpine village. |
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| And another... |
From Arabba to the start of the Giau climb is about 22 km. I conquered a few ups and downs before reaching the turnoff where, once I go left, “THE CLIMB” of the Maratona begins—the worst, the hardest. It’s just under 10 km long, with an average gradient of over 9% (that’s the average), and of course, I’ve already got over 2,000 meters of climbing in my legs from earlier today...
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| The climb begins, and at the base, there’s forest. |
As Bata Živojinović says in the film Barking at the Stars: “Anyone who hasn’t taken their kids to the Zagreb Fair doesn’t know what suffering is”...
Well, anyone who hasn’t climbed Passo Giau in the Maratona doesn’t know what suffering is!
And that’s exactly how the climb up Giau felt to me. I’m climbing slowly, my Garmin is acting up and not showing the gradient properly. Occasionally, it works and shows the gradient, then it goes back to zero. But every time it does show something, it’s 12-13%, so maybe it’s better that it doesn’t work...
It’s harder than I expected and much slower. I keep taking breaks, resting, moving on, resting, taking pictures, and so on in a loop. Each time I stop, I check the map to see how much further I have to go, and it’s depressing that I’m still not close. Bit by bit, I make progress, and the view of the surrounding peaks gets better as I climb. At one point, I can see the summit—it’s not far now, I comfort myself, waiting for the gradient to ease up.
But it doesn’t.
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| Još jedno 100m i popeo sam se |
Right up until the last meter (I almost said breath), Giau doesn’t give up. You can see the end—it’s right there within reach—but NO, there’s still more to climb, more suffering... It took me over an hour and a half to climb those 10 km.
I reach the summit, and then comes the reward.
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| Pogled sa Passo Giau |
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| Pogled sa Passo Giau |
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| Kad se kaže Passo Giau, misli se na ovaj vrh karakterističnog oblika |
The view from Giau is so unbelievable that I can hardly believe it. I take pictures, turn in every direction—it’s simply PERFECT. I’ve had this experience many times before, where I climb to a peak, suffer through it, and at the end, the reward is the incredible nature and views.
In the house you can see in the previous picture, there’s a restaurant. Of course, I plan to sit down, recover, and get myself back together. The climb has completely drained me.
Outside, there are tables, but they’re all full. I’m thinking about giving up when one table frees up.
I sit down.
After resting a bit, I decide to go inside. I ask if they have Coca-Cola (it’s a proven life-saver), and they say they do. I ask them to give me the biggest one they have, and they hand me a 400 ml glass. I down it in one go and order another.
I head back outside and sit back down at my table (I left my backpack as a “guard dog” to hold the spot). The terrace is still packed, and some hikers ask if they can join me. “Of course,” I say, “it’s better with company.” I eat a pastry I bought at the restaurant (Coca-Cola revives you quickly, but as everyone says, those are empty calories, so you need to eat something as well). The ride isn’t over yet—I still have to climb Passo Falzarego, then Valparola, and finally Campolongo one more time. So recovery is crucial.
After about 45 minutes, I feel like new.
Rested, replenished, refreshed, and fed—I’m ready to continue.
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| Pogled prema Cortina d'Amprezzo |
I hadn’t even properly started before stopping again to take pictures… The view from Passo Giau towards Cortina d'Ampezzo is definitely the most beautiful on the entire route!
The descent is slower than it should be because I’m stuck behind a big bus, which is crawling through the hairpins. The road is narrow, so I can’t overtake the bus, and I’m braking hard as the slope is quite steep on this side of Giau as well. On a short straight, I manage to pick up speed and finally “lose” the bus. After that, I’m flying and quickly reach just above Cortina d'Ampezzo. I turn left, and the climb to Passo Falzarego begins.
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| Starting the climb to Falzarego. |
The climb from this side isn’t too difficult (6-8%), and I’m making good progress. In the distance, I see a cyclist on the road (at first, I’m not sure if it’s a cyclist, but as I get closer, it becomes clear). I’m steadily catching up to him, getting closer and closer.
As I approach, I see he’s on an e-bike, but his battery has run out, and he’s really struggling on the climb. Now, my heart feels at peace. I don’t want to sound like some kind of fascist, I have nothing against him, but all day I’ve been overtaken by e-bikes on the climbs as if I were standing still (I’m grinding uphill at 6-7 km/h, sweating, and then I hear the buzzing of an e-bike behind me as they zoom past at over 20 km/h). At least 200 e-bikes have zipped by me today, so it feels only right that I get to pass at least one. Let him eat my dust…
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| Passo Falzarego—this time I can take pictures from all angles, no storm approaching. |
I stop, buy a souvenir for Mira, take a 20-minute break, and continue on.
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| View towards Cortina d'Ampezzo. |
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| View back towards Passo Giau. |
After Falzarego, the climb to Passo Valparola begins. It’s not long (about 1 km), but it left a bad impression on me last year. However, this time I manage it without much trouble (I think last year, the climb surprised me with its steepness right at the end, but this time I knew what to expect, so it went smoothly). At Valparola, there’s a museum dedicated to the battles between Italians and Austrians over this territory during World War I. Fierce battles were fought here “for every stone,” and eventually, Italy managed to take South Tyrol from Austria. I didn’t visit the museum—there wasn’t time, just like last year with the approaching storm, and this year I still had more climbing and riding to do, and the day was drawing to a close.
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| Passo Valparola. |
I stop just long enough to snap a few photos and immediately head on. One of the most beautiful descents awaits.
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| View back toward Falzarego and Giau (in the distance), from the direction I came. |
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| Unbelievable, you can see Marmolada and Civetta (in the distance). |
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| The start of the descent treats you to this kind of view. |
Just before hitting the main road (roundabout), the climb starts again. I reach the main road, and after a few hundred meters, I spot a sign: "Mür dl Giat" – right. Mür dl Giat (The Cat Wall) comes right at the end of the original Maratona. It’s a 400m climb with a 19% gradient.
Exactly what I need after nearly 4000 meters of climbing in my legs.
But the Maratona wouldn’t be the Maratona if I didn’t do it right. No hesitation—I start the battle against that 19%.
I rode it in one go...
I’d be lying if I said it was easy, especially the last 100 meters, but I managed it more easily than I expected. At the very end, my last bit of energy spent, heart rate at 180, but the climb was conquered.
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| The turnoff to the final endurance test—19%. |
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| Mür dl Giat. |
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| The beginning (first 50m) isn’t too bad, but then it really tightens up. |
Mür dl Giat is behind me. The gentle descent to the main road is a relief, but then it slowly starts to climb again, toward Corvara. I’m looking at the surrounding mountains and peaks (as if I hadn’t seen enough of them, but now the sun is shining from the other side, making everything look different). Of course, I’m looking and taking pictures…
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| The barriers are already set up for Sunday’s race. |
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| These are the days when you absolutely need to be in this region. |
In the center of Corvara, there’s a proper little info center, with mechanics who offer free bike servicing and the like. I wanted to visit the Maratona village and buy a Maratona jersey, so I asked where it was (in the village of La Villa).
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| Maratona village (La Villa). |
After gathering the info, I continue on. Just one more climb up Campolongo stands between me and completing all the Maratona summits.
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| Passo Campolongo, second time today. |
Passo Campolongo conquered for the second time today. The descent to Arabba flies by in an instant, and that’s it. Now that I think about it, it wasn’t so bad after all.
It wasn’t easy either, especially around Giau, where for a moment I doubted whether I’d even make it (but a good break and some calories turned things in my favor…). I never considered quitting, but there were moments on that climb when it was sheer determination that kept my pedals turning.
Anyway, “Mission accomplished!!!”.
I arrive at the hotel, change clothes, shower, and head out for dinner. The hotel next door had a restaurant-pizzeria on the ground floor, so it was the easiest option.
We go in, sit down, and order.
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| Pizza for dinner—completely deserved. |
While we’re waiting for the pizzas to arrive, a large group comes in and sits at a huge table next to us. From their conversation, I try to figure out where they’re from. Slovenians—definitely! It’s an entire cycling club (from Maribor) who came to ride the Maratona. Some are doing the small route, some the medium, and only a few are doing the full one. I sit with them for a bit, it’s their first time here, so I tell them all about what to expect.
The pizzas arrive, and my time chatting with the Slovenians is cut short...
We ate.
A few more words with the Slovenians, now that I’m full, I wish them a good Maratona and head back to the room.
A new and phenomenal experience!
Saturday, July 6th, 2019
Morning.
Surprisingly, I feel better than expected. OK, I feel my legs a bit, but nothing terrible.
We had breakfast, got dressed, and set off.
First stop, La Villa—Maratona village.
We arrive, and it’s almost impossible to find parking... Why am I not surprised?
Parked (after a long search)!
I had to park by the main road since there was simply no closer parking to Maratona village. We walk uphill toward the village of La Villa.
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| On one plateau, they’ve set up a mini fair. |
We come across this mini “fair” full of stalls from various bike manufacturers, equipment suppliers, parts, clothing, and of course, cycling food. Interesting. I’ve only seen something similar in Berlin during the Velothon race, but the “fair” there was much bigger.
There are various promotions, offers, and so on. You can try lots of things, even grab a bite to eat.
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| A real Formula E car. |
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| Holding at least 10,000 euros in my hands, and it feels great. |
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| On this panel, all three routes are presented. |
After checking out the “fair,” we continue on and arrive at the shop selling Maratona jerseys and other Maratona gear. Of course, it’s packed inside—too crowded for my liking—but we jump in and buy full jerseys for Nikola, Bilja, and me. I also grab a Maratona mug as a souvenir, and then we escape the crowd.
We continue on and arrive at the registration point for the race, where you submit your papers and get your race number (there are 4 groups of competitors, divided by expected speed, and each group has its own color for the number and chip)...
And that’s it, at least for the Maratona village. There might be more, but we saw all the important things.
We head back to the car, hop in, and drive toward Passo Valparola, then onto Passo Falzarego. We take a short break to enjoy the views. Just as we’re about to leave for Passo Giau, a cyclist asks if we can help him. The poor guy has punctured his tire 4 times and is out of spare tubes and patches, so he has no way to get back down to Cortina d'Ampezzo except on foot. I had noticed him walking with his punctured tire about 10 minutes earlier as we descended Falzarego.
“Of course,” I reply, “no problem at all.” He says, “Just drop me at the start of Cortina, and I’ll walk from there.” I thought to myself, I’ll take him all the way to his destination—it doesn’t make sense to leave him 2 km from his hotel. And that’s what we did. We entered Cortina d'Ampezzo, he guided me, and we reached his hotel, right in the center. The man thanked me profusely—I had saved him from a long, uncomfortable walk in cycling shoes.
We set off again toward Passo Giau.
We reach the pass, and the view is still stunning, although the weather was a bit better yesterday :)—today there are more clouds, and it’s not as sunny.
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| Passo Giau |
We go into the restaurant—it’s almost 3 PM, and honestly, I’m feeling hungry. We each get a sandwich and a pie.
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| Apple pie—delicious, though I still prefer the one on the Gardena climb. |
Full and satisfied, we continue on.
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| The view through the restaurant windows looks like this... |
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| Giau - fenomenalno izgleda |
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| The descent from Giau begins. |
The plan is that once we descend from Giau, instead of heading straight back to our accommodation, we’ll climb Passo Fedaia (right below Marmolada) and then descend into Canazei, then over Passo Pordoi back to Arabba and our accommodation (this is a scouting mission for future years). It sounds ambitious (for cycling), but of course, it’s no problem by car. We descend from Giau, and about halfway down, there’s a fountain. We stop to refill our water supplies. While we’re filling the bottles, I watch two cyclists struggling uphill, barely moving. I think to myself, that’s probably how I looked yesterday... They stop, fill their water bottles, notice the bike racks on our car, and ask if we can give them a lift to Giau. They had pushed too hard, trying to cover Fedaia and Pordoi (sounds like my own plan for today), but ran out of water, food, and energy, and now they were done.
“Of course, no problem,” I say. We load the bikes onto the roof, “It’ll be a bit cramped in the back seat, but you’ll manage until we get to the top.”
“Of course,” they say, no problem.
And so, once again, we find ourselves back on Giau… Two more rescued...
“OK, here we go again....”
This time, we descend without stopping to Rocca Pietore, where the climb to Passo Fedaia begins. The first 6-7 km are manageable at 6-7% gradient, but then it tightens to over 10%, and the rest of the way it’s in double digits. OK, I think to myself, this one’s serious. About 2 km from the top, there’s a sign that reads 15% for the next 2 km, and that’s exactly what it was... As they say, we almost barely made it by car. We reach the top, and there’s a beautiful green artificial lake with Marmolada in the background.
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| The beautiful Lago della Fedaia with Marmolada in the background. |
A short break, a few pictures, and we move on—just one more pass and we’re “home.” Then I plan to take Nikola for a short ride before dinner. We descend into Canazei (we haven’t been here before, and it’s really picturesque).
We pass through Canazei, and in front of us are Sella (on the left) and Pordoi (on the right). We stop, of course, for more pictures...
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| Passo Sella |
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| Passo Sella (left), Pordoi (right) |
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| Passo Sella (left), Pordoi (right) |
We arrive back at the accommodation, rest for a bit, then change into our new Maratona jerseys, ready for an evening ride. We step out onto the apartment terrace to take a selfie, and wouldn’t you know it—rain starts to fall. Of course, just when we’re ready to go... I check the radar, and it looks like there’s no chance for a ride tonight. Oh well, we saw plenty today—it definitely wasn’t boring, so we’ll head to dinner a little earlier.
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| Marathoners, Nikola and Darko, in their Maratona jerseys, Mira with the official t-shirt. |
The plan for tomorrow is to wake up around 5 AM, have breakfast, get dressed, and ride over Passo Campolongo to Corvara to watch the racers (the race starts at 6:30 AM from La Villa, a few kilometers from Corvara). When I get back to the apartment, we’ll pack up and head back to Novi Sad.
Sunday, July 7th, 2019
I’m asleep...
I’m expecting the alarm (my phone) to go off any moment so I can spring into action. I half-suspiciously glance at the clock and realize it’s not 5 AM as it should be—it’s almost >>>>6 AM<<<<?!?!?!?!? (I later discovered that I had set the alarm perfectly for 5 AM, but forgot to select Sunday as a day for it to go off, since I never need an alarm on Sundays, when I usually don’t have to get up early).
I leap out of bed like Bubka (minus the pole), and in the blink of an eye, I’m dressed in my new Maratona jersey, rushing downstairs and heading toward Corvara.
I arrive at my chosen spot—a hairpin just above Corvara—at 6:26 AM (talk about a photo finish). If the timing is right, the race starts in 4 minutes.
I stand on the inside of the hairpin, leave my bike, then realize that if I cross the road, the view (for taking pictures) will be much better.
I cross the road (leave my bike on the grass on the inside of the hairpin), and I wait, satisfied. Despite the alarm mishap, and the fact that I’m not a morning person, I’ve made it on time and have found a good spot.
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| The moment I arrived at my desired location, 06:26 AM. |
have to point out—it’s really cold, about 6°C. I’m in a short-sleeved jersey with just a windbreaker. At first, I’m OK because I worked up a good sweat rushing to get here on time (all PRs on the climb up Campolongo), but as I start to cool down, it becomes less comfortable. Just as I begin to feel the chill, the sun starts to rise over the hill, and it becomes much more pleasant.
At 06:41 AM, the first group of racers (the red group) arrives. Unbelievable—they’ve covered about 7 km in 11 minutes, which, when I calculate it, comes out to an average of nearly 40 km/h, all uphill?!?
Is that even possible, I wonder?
Obviously, yes—just not for me…
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| 06:41 AM sharp, and the first racers arrive. |
Once they start coming, the number of cyclists just keeps increasing, and the crowd in the hairpin grows larger and larger. A few times, they get so bunched up that the whole group has to stop in the hairpin. It’s quite the spectacle to see about 200 cyclists, all a few centimeters apart, unclipping from their pedals. And then, Italians being Italians, they start complaining, arguing loudly—it feels like being at a busy market where everyone’s on edge...
Getting going again after such a stoppage is even more interesting, as they have to start on a slope of about 12% in the middle of a crowd.
Somehow, they manage it every time a jam happens...
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| From the moment I saw them to the time they reached the curve, it took literally 6 seconds—unbelievable. |
The Maratona is, by definition, an amateur race. However, the best riders race like professionals. I guess this event serves as a kind of advertisement for them.
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| Once the red group thinned out, the green group arrived. |
The number of cyclists per square meter keeps increasing, and I start wondering if this will ever end.
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| You can clearly see in the picture how they’ve stopped, waiting for the hairpin to clear so they can keep going. |
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| There’s simply no way through. |
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| I stand for minutes, watching as cyclists pass by, and the flow shows no sign of stopping. |
After the green group comes the blue group, and finally, the yellow group (which includes the slowest riders and those participating for the first time).
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| After about 45 minutes, there’s still no sign that the column of cyclists will ease up. |
I stand across from my bike, with no hope of crossing the road through the river of cyclists.
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| Finally, after almost an hour, I see the first sign that the end of the cyclist stream is near. |
In the distance, I spot a gap in the cyclists, and I know this is my chance to “sprint” (in road cycling shoes) across to my bike.
I dashed across, grabbed my bike, and started riding with a group of yellow riders.
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| At last, another view opens up before me, and I stop to take a few pictures. |
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| Just a little more and we’re at Passo Campolongo. |
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| I arrive at Campolongo, where a small quartet is playing typical Alpine music—it’s fantastic. |
At the top, they’ve set up food, drinks, refreshments—both sweet and savory.
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| Food and drinks for the Marathoners. |
That reminded me that I hadn’t actually had breakfast (thanks to my Bubka-style jump out of bed) and that I had smashed all my personal records on the climb so I wouldn’t be late. I parked my bike at the designated spot, and, fully camouflaged in my Maratona jersey (blending in perfectly with the other participants), I grabbed a few bites and a Coke just to survive… Honestly, no one even glanced at me, and why would they? I looked just like everyone else the food was meant for (and this turned out to be yet another experience for me).
I descended into Arabba, and at the roundabout, I left the Maratona route. Even the little part I rode with the participants was incredibly interesting.
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| I honestly don’t know how to count these two—do they count as one or two? (They had one race number, so I assume they count as one). |
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| Here’s where I leave the route and head back to the hotel. |
We packed up, and as soon as the roads opened, we set off toward Passo Pordoi, from there descending into Canazei, and then over Passo Fedaia, finally leaving the roads closed for the race.
Around 11:30 AM, we stopped at a small restaurant by Lago di Alleghe, and on TV, we saw that the winner had just finished the full Maratona. He covered 138 km with 4230 meters of elevation gain in 5 hours (average speed of 27.6 km/h—unbelievable).
Honestly, for me, the fact that I completed the entire route was a total success (it took me almost 13 hours, but I wasn’t in a hurry, I didn’t plan to rush, I took plenty of photos, and most importantly, I fully enjoyed riding the route).
I’ll gladly return to this region—there are so many more passes, fantastic mountain ranges, peaks, and lakes to explore and see.
Until the next adventure,
D.
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