Contrasts in the East

It goes without saying that the proposal was to write this piece and ride the route. I can’t say I didn’t think twice about accepting, though. Not having cycled much at all and wanting to focus on climbing for the rest of the summer and autumn would have been good reasons to turn it down, but there were just as many reasons to say yes.

First of all, the ride would start right from my hometown of Tarvisio, in the heart of the Alpi Giulie, and finish in Trieste, on the Adriatic coast, taking in Gorizia, the city where I was born, and those winding roads and gentle hills between Collio, Karst, and the valleys of Natisone that I used to explore on every ride when cycling was my (almost) one true love. The icing on the cake would be the chance to ride from north to south through my region with Elisa, who doesn’t know it as intimately as I do, and for her to capture its landscapes, roads, and people through her lens.

We were on the road just a couple of kilometres from my front door, embarking on a 350 km journey from the mountains to the sea. We knew the mountainous start would be tough – long, steep climbs and plenty of them – but our route had plenty of ups and downs in store for us every day, with barely a flat stretch in sight. We set off on a warm September day, joining from Tarvisio’s main square, the Alpe Adria cycle path – the cycleway linking Salzburg to Grado and the Adriatic. A gentle downhill glide took us to Valbruna in the picturesque Val Saisera, where we stopped for cake and coffee at Irma’s.

Before long, we were facing the towering peaks of the Jôf Fuârt and Jôf di Montasio, and the real work began. We climbed on tarmac, then gravel, to Rifugio Grego, and descended into Val Dogna. The forest road, recently completed, winds its way up through a stunning beech forest, until we reach a clearing and the refuge. Once we reach the top, we keep going – if we stopped at every viewpoint, we’d never make it. Val Dogna is a cyclist’s dream, whether you’re coasting downhill (like we are) or tackling the climb: nearly 20 kilometres of twisting road with hardly any traffic, dotted with tiny villages with quirky names like Chiout, Chiutzuquin, and Mincigos.

We hop back on the Alpe Adria cycle path, which follows the old railway line through the Canal del Ferro and Val Canale. The old stations are now perfect spots for cyclists to refuel, like Chiusaforte and Resiutta. We leave the path and follow the Resia River into the valley, where a sharp right turn takes us onto the steep Sella Carnizza climb – the same road where Primož Roglič’s legend began back in 2012. It’s a beast of a climb, but the road that follows is a dream, winding gently down to Uccea, where the beech trees are just starting to turn yellow, marking the transition from summer to autumn. We’re not quite there yet – we’ve still got 20 kilometres to go before reaching Tarcento – but we’re looking forward to a warm welcome from our friend Michele, who’s got a workshop where he fixes, mends, and repurposes all sorts of things. He greets us with a glass of wine (called ‘taglio’ in the Friuli dialect) and some snacks.

Day two is the shortest, but don’t let that fool you – it’s still a rollercoaster ride with short, sharp climbs and no flat bits to catch your breath. We’ve swapped the Julian Alps for the Prealpi Giulie range, riding east along the border between the mountains and the Friuli plains.
We kick off day two from Tarcento, retracing our route, from the night before back to Vedronza. From there, we start climbing again towards Monteaperta, taking a scenic forest road through the woods instead of following the main road. Once we’re back on tarmac, we’re treated to a stunning view of the Gran Monte range, which will be our companion for the next few kilometres. One of the many ups and downs takes us across the border into Slovenia, crossing the river Natisone on a tiny bridge.

We continue on quiet roads and some gravel, passing through tiny villages tucked away in the valleys. Before heading back into Italy, we stop off in Robidišče, the westernmost village in Slovenia, for a well-deserved beer at Rest and Ride, a B&B that’s clearly cyclist-friendly.
We’re back in the woods, pedalling along narrow roads that feel like a never-ending bike path. The asphalt’s rough, but our 40 mm and 45 mm tyres are soaking it up nicely. It’s been a super quiet day – hardly any cars, just a few tractors and a couple of deer that darted out of the way. After Montefosca, the road finally starts to drop, and we get to enjoy a thrilling descent into Pulfero. From there, it’s a short pedal to San Pietro al Natisone, where we’re calling it a day. We’ve only done 70 kilometres or so, but it feels like a lot more.

Day three starts with a massive breakfast – two slices of gubana, a local sweet bread shaped like a snail that’s a must-try. We’re in for a challenge: a 10-kilometre climb up Monte Matajur, a mountain that stands out like a beacon, with its tiny church on top visible from much of the Friuli plain. The views from the summit are stunning – we can see the Julian Alps, the Canin group, and all the way to the Gulf of Trieste and the Grado lagoon. But before we can take it all in, we’ve got to earn it – the climb is followed by an equally long descent, which takes us down to the village of Polava. It’s worth a quick detour to check out this tiny village, which has been transformed into a Tibetan-inspired meditation centre called Cian Ciub Ciö Ling.

Back on track, a short climb through the woods on a narrow road takes us to a pleasant seven km descent into Clodig. We’d love to stop at Trattoria Alla Cascata, but it’s a bit early for lunch, so we press on, climbing almost all the way up to the top of Kolovrat, a mountain range renowned for its breathtaking scenery and hiking trails, steeped in history with remnants of World War I trenches and sites.

The road winds its way up the hillside, passing through tiny villages and offering stunning views. We follow the contours of the hillside until we reach the border with Slovenia, where the road becomes easier and we descend towards Tribil. Our lunch stop is Castelmonte, a picturesque hilltop sanctuary that was the finish line of the 2022 Giro. We treat ourselves to a plate of frico, polenta, and mushrooms – a local speciality that we won’t taste again on our journey. From here, we’re heading into new territory: the Collio wine region, Gorizia, the Karst, and finally Trieste, each with its own unique flavours and landscapes.

A short descent and we’re in the midst of the vineyards above Prepotto. We ride along quiet roads and some gravel, passing through the numerous wineries of the Collio region, straddling Italy and Slovenia, with constant ups and downs until we reach the outskirts of Gorizia and the hill of San Floriano. This 40-kilometre stretch is a delight to ride. We grab a few grapes, but we shouldn’t indulge – it’s harvest season after all! The final stretch into Gorizia follows the route of the Italian Road Championships, and we can still see the motivational slogans on the road. We arrive in town and take a quick look at Piazza Transalpina, a symbol of unity between the Slovenian part, Nova Gorica, and the Italian part of the city, which in 2025 became the first transnational European Capital of Culture. We spend the evening with my family, enjoying dinner at Rosenbar, a local restaurant run by friends of my parents. We feast on traditional dishes and innovative creations, washed down with natural wine from the Collio region.

For our final stage, we sleep in and enjoy a leisurely morning – it’s only 80 kilometres, and the terrain is a breeze compared to the previous days. But the Karst region can still throw some surprises, especially on the gravel sections. We leave Gorizia behind and soon find ourselves on quiet roads with rough asphalt. As we climb towards San Michele del Carso, we cross the border again and take in the stunning views from Sela na Krasu (Saddle of the Trenches). It’s a bittersweet view, though – a fire swept through the Slovenian and Italian Karst a couple of years ago, and the landscape is still recovering. The charred remains of the black pines are a haunting reminder of the devastation.

We head south and take one of the many dirt roads that crisscross this landscape suspended between sea and mountains. The karst terrain, even on the off-road sections, is hard and rough – nothing like the forest roads of the Tarvisio area with their fine gravel. Here, the clay-based surface is scattered with sharp rocks, making it more suited to a mountain bike than a gravel bike. But with caution, we quickly adapt to the terrain.

We cross back into Italy and from Medeazza, the sea is within touching distance. We can see Trieste peeking out from the gulf – we’ll be arriving from the ‘alte roads’. There are two ways to get there: the coastal road, which is beautiful but super busy, especially for bikes, or the alte, the roads that roll through the Karst villages. Malchina, San Pelagio, Sales – every now and then, we spot an osmiza, a place where you can try the local produce while sipping some wine.

From Prosecco we head towards Opicina and climb a bit further up to Basovizza, where we can’t resist stopping for a crema carsolina at Marc’s – it’s like a Napoleon pastry, but local. From here, it’s more or less all downhill, with a fun stretch of gravel on the old railway track through the Val Rosandra, a mecca for Triestine climbers. Emilio Comici, a climbing legend, got his start in these very rocks almost a century ago. As we leave the valley, we’re back in the city traffic, which gets busier as we approach Piazza Unità, often voted Italy’s most beautiful square. We celebrate the end of our ride with an Aperol Spritz at sunset, after 330 kilometres in the saddle, before hopping on the train that will take us back to Tarvisio in a couple of hours.