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First of all you'll have to go to Sulzano at the secretariat to collect the race pack. The race office is open from pm to pm at the Council Chamber of the Municipality of Sulzano Bs , in via Cesare Battisti, Here it will be possible to collect the bibs and race pack. You will receive everything you need for the race: race pack, bib, race bags, cap, numbers, chrono-chip, buoy with bright light, etc.. Once you have collected the race pack you can go to the T1 Transition Zone in Sulzano, next to the Race Office, to leave the bike and to deliver your race bags. The transition area will be open from 1. The check will be made for supporters too. A further stuff check also for the supporters will take place during the race in T2 in Pontedilegno, before the start of the run course. Any random checks can be carried out at any point on the route. It will be your responsibility to fill these bags with the material you need that will be useful during the race see indication below. Four bags, Bag 2, Bag 3, your personal bag for T2 and your personale bag for post-finish line , must be delivered to the bike check-in on Friday, in the transition area, by pm. Bag 1 — T1 you will have to place it in your bike place in the transition area you can do it on Saturday morning before departure. The organization will provide for the handling of the bags so that you can use them in the various points of the route where they are expected to be used. The bags used and left along the route, you will then find them all at the bike collection the day after the race, in Ponte di Legno. You have to use this bag for the swim-bike transition. At the end of the swimming you will take inside the bag your wetsuit, your swim glasses and all your swimming material. You will collect this bag along with the bike in Ponte di Legno, the day after the race. You will find this bag in Trivigno km 97 , on the route to passo Mortirolo. We suggest to use this bag for a jacket for Mortirolo descent, food and drinks. You will find this bag at the top of Passo Gavia km In this bag you have to insert all the equipment for the RUN course running shoes, running clothes, backpack, etc. Once the bag has been used, you can insert the material that will no longer be necessary after the bike bike clothing, bike shoes, etc. This bag must be a personal bag. You can fill with everything you need after arrival clean and dry clothes for the post race…. It can be managed and brought to the finish line by your companions that will wait for you at the Finish Line. Boarding is a few meters from the transition area, at the port of Sulzano. The departure will take place from the water. At these aid stations you will find fruit, energy drink, water, coke, sweet food. At these aid stations you will find fruit, salts, water, coke, cake. In Ponte di Legno e Tonale salad food too. It will be near the War Memorial. After the Finish Line, there will be dinner inside the Passo Paradiso refuge, for all participants and supporters. You can then get off to Passo del Tonale with the cableway. This website uses cookies so that we can provide you with the best user experience possible. Cookie information is stored in your browser and performs functions such as recognising you when you return to our website and helping our team to understand which sections of the website you find most interesting and useful. Strictly Necessary Cookie should be enabled at all times so that we can save your preferences for cookie settings. If you disable this cookie, we will not be able to save your preferences. This means that every time you visit this website you will need to enable or disable cookies again. The use of the intermediate bags 02 — Trivigno and 03 — Gavia is optional. How to organize the bags? This is a LIFE BASE: big refreshment point with hot broth, hot tea, salty food, sweet food, drinks, energy drinks gazebo as locker room timing check-point with cut-off at 9. Main sponsor. Affiliated Associations. English Italiano Italian. Privacy Overview This website uses cookies so that we can provide you with the best user experience possible. Strictly Necessary Cookies Strictly Necessary Cookie should be enabled at all times so that we can save your preferences for cookie settings. Enable or Disable Cookies. Enable All Save Settings.
We had a brilliant holiday in Passo Tonale itself but no thanks to the hotel. The room was not like those on the website. It was very tired.
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I do recall though being aware that I was more likely to run out of energy than time with the two big climbs just up ahead. So it could well have been a concious act — realising that I in all likelihood I may be heading for a hotel after the Gavia rather than tacking on the extra m or so of climbing over the Passo Tonale as well. After quickly jogging up the steps to get back into reception and drop the key off, I roll left onto the main road. As expected, there is no traffic worth speaking of — maybe the odd car or coach, none of which pass close enough to bother me though. Before long the route splits right onto a cycle path which takes a curious dogleg into a field which it then rises up as it swings back to follow the road. In the process though I miss a turn and find myself stuck on the road. I can see the path I missed to my right, and decide to walk the few meters over the grass field to get back to it — getting a nice cool soaking of dew on my feet and ankles in the process. My reward is the wonderful, if strange sight of what looks to be a church tower standing alone surrounded by the water of a small bay. I know I must turn somewhere to get back onto my original route, but I find myself following instinct rather than any clear plan. A right branch of the cycle path is signposted that looks to cross the bottom of the lake in the right general direction. Sure enough, a few meters beyond the head or is it foot of the lake it merges with a path coming in from the right and the Wahoo beeps in satisfaction that we are now back on track. And what a track it is. TCR has led onto some amazing paths and trails but what follows is right up there with the best of them. Only at Laudes, 7. What I could have seen, and is also blindingly obvious, is that the valley rises uphill. At various intervals are large signboards which show this to be one part of a much larger cycling network, although my brain struggles to orient any of the branches of path or names aside from the one I am on and the town of Taufers, just up ahead. The trail is gradually deteriorating from decent gravel track to full on mountain bike track when suddenly it does just that. Although the route the other side of the river takes a little decoding until I figure the short right and left dogleg onto the small road across pastures up to the lines of houses above which I assume is Taufers. Firstly, despite being narrow an oncoming pocket sized SUV shows that this is actually a road. I glance at the buildings of Taufers as I ride through, wondering about a breakfast stop. I miss what could have been a couple of opportunities though. The first is what looks through the windows to be a hotel with guests sat at tables inside. The second is a garage which, only once past I realise had an open shop. Plus I can see what seems to be Santa Maria in the distance, although it turns out to the town before Mustair , with no obvious places open. By the time I reach the top of the steady drag into what is actually Santa Maria I am sufficiently starving the packed food being long gone that I am much less shy of just barging into the first definitely open place I see. Which also turns out to a hotel, with residents enjoying their morning meal at least they were until I arrived. The hosts are only to happy to let me join them though — for a not so small fee 20 CHF. The lobby area is smart, and wooden clad in very Swiis style. Up a couple of stone steps to the right, and a low doorway that has me ducking slightly lies the breakfast room, or at least the first chamber of it. I toss my gear on an open table right in front of the coffee machine and survey the goodies. Set out next to the coffee machine and spreading across tables under the front window is an impressive array of pastries, cakes and a large platter of assorted fruit. Those will definitely get raided soon, but before then the second chamber needs to be properly investigated. On my first visit I come back with juices and a large bowl of muesli — both of which are so good, I immediately go and get seconds. The third visit sees me venture onto the cold meats and cheese section, plus a couple of rolls and croissants to stuff them in. There was even various cured fish had I been in the mood, but by now those pastries are in need of attention, along with a third cup of coffee. And finally, several large slices of water melon from the fruit platter and a petite little glass jar of yoghurt which also demands a second visit. It seems rude not to grab a final fourth coffee and juice before I leave — actually drag myself away would be more accurate. I literally could have sat there and done another couple of rounds. Definitely a top notch establishment for a hungry TCR rider. The opening few switchbacks, as with last night into Nauders, I have the legs for. The pass is just too long and too high thought for me to ride the whole way up it. Umbrail Pass may not be the famous way up Stelvio but it is nevertheless completely stunning and deserving of a far better attempt on it than I managed. After the first sequence of switchbacks the road rises out of the trees onto a a small plateau where it crosses a stream on a little bridge before swinging back into a second sequence of turns. Time to grab a couple of shots before heading down to the next. The sheer scale of it took my breath away and I was more than a little nervous rolling down into the first couple of turns. What were nerves minutes before becomes an exhiliarating rush. Far from holding the traffic up, myself and two or three other riders descending at the same time are actually passing the busy line of vehicles. Cutting a tighter line out of one of the corners we manage to get ahead of a coach that is holding the cars up. With clear road ahead there is nothing to hold us back as we charge downwards. The road straightens though towards the foot of the descent anyway and the traffic begins to move more freely, some of it passing us again. One last tight corner brings the coach to a standstill which proves to be handy as it makes for a free right turn for me off the main road and down into town. Down in the valley, devoid of the cooling effect of rushing mountain air, and weaving through the town there is just one single overwhelming sensation. Not some mild, sweaty warmth but blazing, stifling heat. Not a breath of wind stirs along the narrow cobbled streets packed between the old townhouses. A short way through the town I cross into a broad square, with parasol covered benches and tables in the middle. The unmistakeable figure of another TCR rider is stood there, seemingly kitting up to leave. We exchange a few words — on my side asking how the food was, which immediately prompts me to order a coke and some Lasagne. His name is Wouter cap and he seems to be going well and in good spirits. We chat a while, both of us share a similar view of parcours 1 it seems. As my food arrives he rolls off to tackle the parcours. I really should have ordered a second helping of the pasta. I do grab an extra coke but, aside from being delicious, the fuel would have been very helpful. After taking a pee though, I head out keen to get to my CP2 stamp. I want to record parcour 2 as a single track segment in case there is any need to provide my GPS log as evidence. Not the gradient, or the distance, but the afternoon heat. I duck into a small shop to grab a sports drink for my back pocket, an extra water to top up my bottles, and some snacks. The latter are nothing I even vaguely recognise, but the choice at the little store is somewhat eclectic. The helpful lady owner gestures as if to show they will give my cycling strength. Rather oddly, I believe her despite any real evidence she is a cyclist herself. The heat is ridiculous. My progress and time management today has been anything but effective, but big heat and big hills will do that to you. After leaning the bike against a wall I grab a quick selfie as proof of passage before heading inside. I immediately go to the bar and grab a panache shandy to celebrate. Instead I sit on a dangerously comfy couch in the foyer, and chat with Yoli as well as catching up with messages, social media, and the race tracker. The Gavia is infamous for changeable and extreme weather, even in summer. But it seems way too early to contemplate stopping either. As with Umbrail earlier, I get a decent chunk of the way through the next set of switchbacks before the engine starts to falter and I hop off to give it a break. From there upwards it becomes alternating stretches of hike-a-bike on the steeper sections, and spinning my easiest gears up the easier parts. On the way up I chow through a whole pack of Haribo and both of the snacks from the little shop, which turn out to be incredibly sweet, but from what seems to be honey rather than sugar. They also seem packed with almonds, or some other kind of nut. Around the last few corners the gentle breeze picks up into more of a real wind. The clouds around have not yet developed into a full blown storm, but they show every sign of doing so. By now I am pretty much exhausted, but I need to get some warmer gear on for the descent. I lean the bike on the wall of the refuge at the top and quickly delve into the saddlbag to fish out everything I need. With huge relief I find the spare, old base layer is lurking in there still — along with the micro fleece and waterproof shorts. As I do so my fear immediately shifts from the possibility of a storm to the immediacy of what lies ahead. The first couple of switchbacks seem to have been built outwards from the mountainside which exaggerates the effect, making it seem like you are riding out over nothing as you begin to sweep through the bend. Looking down the profile of the road is a properly stunning sight — a narrow dark strip that clings onto a perilous steep hillside which it twists around far into the distance. I am utterly alone — there is not a car in sight, and none pass me throughout the whole 15km drop into the valley. It is cycling heaven — or it would be were it not for that tiny voice in the back of my head wondering how long it would take someone to find me if I misjudged a corner and came off on the way down. Despite doing my best to lay off the brakes so they still have power heading into the sharper bends, on occasion I catch an unmistakeable waft of them cooking. At the top it was smashed to bare gravel in places, but even as the gradient lessens and the road drops into forests and through pastures there are rough patches here and there. Being brutally honest, the hotel had seemed smarter in the pictures, and they no longer have a restaurant. Plus I get to take the bike to the room too — which brings with it a unique moment of pure TCR commedy. The lift to the third floor is too small to wheel the bike into fully, so I angle it upwards instead. But the lift has doors on both sides and, when I get there I realise the third floor exit is on the opposite side. I ended up taking the lift all the way back down to the ground floor so I can angle it the opposite way against the door, which will then allow me to drop the front wheel into the corridor once it opens. It reminds me of a similarly farcical scene trying to get multiple bikes into the tiny lift of a Pizza restaurant in Saldanha with Theunis and the guys on a Cape Audax. For some reason I never fully comprehend, the pizza never arrives. By the time this comes to light I have zero interest in travelling out again to a restuarant, so half of the packed breakfast becomes my dinner for the second night in a row. It leaves me once again with the realisation I will need an early breakfast somewhere. The Passo Tonale is going to sap some energy before I reach the long run down the valley towards Trento, and the easier riding beyond. So I check my cue cards and the maps on my phone as I eat. Or more accurately, try to eat. The problem is the crustiness of the bread which plays havoc with my sore mouth. I end up almost sucking it into a pulp to avoid the pain of having to chew. At least there is some potentially good news. I had noted down a 24hr Esso station on the ring road heading out of town. Yeah, they are pretty full on right?! I read that the Brompton guy melted his rim tape on one of them. Your email address will not be published. Follow this blog! Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed. Skip to content. Leave a Reply Cancel reply Your email address will not be published. Loading Comments Email Required Name Required Website.
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