The Call of the Hairpins
The Passo Stelvio had been on my list for a long time. One of those legendary Alpine passes you hear a lot about, see in photos and know: Someday I want to ride up there myself.
With its countless hairpins, the history etched into the asphalt, and its very own myth, it's more than just a climb. The Stelvio is a proving ground. For legs, for mind and for everything in between.
What makes it so special isn't just the altitude or the number of hairpins. It's that feeling of being part of a long line of people who have fought their way up here. Professionals, adventurers, dreamers. All with the same goal: to reach the top.
The start and finish of this journey are Innsbruck. In between lie five days, divided into different stages, each with its own atmosphere.
387 kilometers, 6,100 meters of elevation gain. A challenge and precisely why I'm so excited about it.
Day 1 – Innsbruck → Ried im Oberinntal
The first day is always special.
For the first few kilometers, thoughts still revolve around small things: Did I pack everything? Is anything missing?
But this cycle of thoughts quickly closes. Then there's only the bike, the rhythm of the pedaling and the road.
Unfortunately, the weather isn't on my side. Rain accompanies me from the start, sometimes light, sometimes persistent. Yet, the landscape between Innsbruck and Landeck is still impressive: wide valleys, steep flanks, the river as a constant companion. Everything seems calmer, more subdued.
In Landeck, the clouds break, and for the first time that day, the sun appears. I stop briefly, letting the first warm rays fall on my face and notice how my mood immediately lifts.
With the friendlier weather, the last few kilometers to Ried im Oberinntal also become easier. I consciously enjoy them.
In Ried, I find a cozy accommodation. The hot shower feels like a small gift.
In the evening, the owner invites me for a beer. He talks about life in the countryside, about his family, about problems and joys. I listen. One beer turns into two. Then another. It gets late but it's worth every minute. Tomorrow is only a short stage. It's precisely these in-between moments that I love so much about cycling.
Day 2 – Ried im Oberinntal → Prad am Stilfserjoch
I wake up tired. Without much thought, I start packing my bike. Routine helps.
Outside, the mountains are once again hidden under thick clouds. It looks like rain.
For the first few kilometers, it drizzles lightly. I roll past small mountain villages. It's strange but the gray clouds make the green landscape glow even more intensely.
In the Inn Gorge, just before the Italian border, the sky clears. The sun comes out. A change of mood, almost abruptly.
The ascent to the Norbertshöhe goes surprisingly easily. After that, the view of Lake Reschen opens up - calm, vast, almost meditative.
On the Vinschgau cycle path, the pace becomes more relaxed. I let myself roll.
In the old town of Glurns, I treat myself to a coffee. Now it's not far to Prad.
There I find cozy accommodation and let the day end peacefully, explore the village, gather strength. Tomorrow, the Stelvio awaits.
Day 3 – Passo dello Stelvio → Meran
The day I've been looking forward to for months.
My alarm rings at 4:30 AM. I pack my bike, still in the twilight. As I roll off, dawn is just breaking.
The clouds of the last few days are gone. It will be a sunny day.
In Trafoi, I almost lose my breath. Not because of the climb, but because of the view of the Ortler. Monumental.
Hairpin after hairpin, I work my way up. From about 2,000 meters altitude, I notice the air getting thinner. Each pedal stroke becomes heavier. The bags suddenly seem to weigh more.
Then: the top.
The panorama is overwhelming. Pride, joy, relief.
A bearded vulture circles directly in front of me. I have to laugh. A moment couldn't be better.
Just as I'm getting ready for the descent, the gear cable snaps. Suddenly, I only have two gears.
I can hardly believe my luck. It would have been much more unpleasant on the way up.
Fortunately, I find a workshop in Switzerland. The cable is quickly repaired. Afterward, I take a short nap on a bench by the river.
This break does me good. Because even though it's all downhill from here, it's still a good way to Meran.
The route through the Vinschgau is spectacular. Mountains left and right, apple trees as far as the eye can see.
In Meran, I treat myself to a hotel and let the evening end relaxed.
Day 4 – Meran → Steinach am Brenner
When I wake up my legs and back remind me of the last few days. My body is in continuous action mode.
Actually, my goal today is Innsbruck.
The first stage takes me along the Passeiertal cycle path to St. Leonhard. It's a gentle uphill climb along the water.
Coffee, refill water then the Jaufenpass awaits.
The strain is noticeable. My legs are heavy. I find my rhythm, step by step.
At the top, it's bitterly cold and foggy. I'm glad to get a warm soup in a small hut.
The descent is fun, but demanding. Deep ruts in the road require full concentration.
In Sterzing, I treat myself to a short nap before continuing towards the Brenner.
After the border, dark clouds gather. I give it my all to get as far as possible.
In Steinach am Brenner, the rain catches up with me. I sit in a bus stop for a long time, contemplating. Finally, I call an accommodation and stay there.
As I fall into bed, it's still raining. I'm grateful for this warm, dry night.
Day 5 – Steinach am Brenner → Innsbruck
I consciously enjoy the last few kilometers to Innsbruck.
At the same time, I wish this journey would continue.
I think of all the experiences of the last few days: conversations, silence, doubts, and euphoria.
And I'm glad that precisely such moments are the reason why I always set off again.
What Remains
At the end of these five days, no numbers remain.
No 387 kilometers. No 6,100 meters of elevation gain.
What remains are moments.
A late-night conversation that was only supposed to last for one beer and then went on much longer.
Rain that forces you to slow down, even though you wanted to make progress.
The moment on the Stilfserjoch when the gear cable snaps. Not dramatic, but clear enough to pause for a moment. To realize that it could have turned out differently.
It is these small breaks in the plan that stick.
Not as annoyance, but as a memory.
Because they pull you out of autopilot. Because they sharpen your perspective.
On the road, the days blur together. Tiredness and euphoria alternate. Thoughts come and go. You think about little and yet about everything.
About your own pace. About limits. About what you truly need when everything superfluous has long been left at home.
You realize how little it takes to be content.
A dry place to sleep. Warm food. A functional bike. And the certainty of being able to handle what comes.
Perhaps that is precisely why such tours have such a lasting effect.
Because they remind you that freedom is not loud.
It arises quietly, somewhere between effort, trust, and the courage to set off without wanting to control everything.
