Last call

In the meantime, the most popular trails have been deserted by hikers, rock walls lie untouched, the roar of car engines has stopped drowning out birdsong on the mountain passes and the shutters of mountain lodges have been lowered one after another. Just for a moment, the mountains are wild again as they await the winter frenzy.

This is when the final call to the peaks sounds inside us cyclists. Just as the cows are about to come down from their pastures, we ride up to enjoy landscapes that look like paintings. We are well aware of how fleeting this moment can be. We know we will come across more tractors than cars, more farmers than tourists. That is exactly what makes it such a brief but unique time of year, well worth experiencing, surrounded by the most magnificent scenery imaginable: the Dolomites.
I set off with Lorenzo from Cortina d’Ampezzo, bags attached to our bikes, as the first rays of sun melt the ice on the roof of our car. We are going to spend three days in the high mountains, from Cortina to Dobbiaco, from Dobbiaco to San Cassiano, and then back to Cortina.

We leave the village along a cycle path, which soon takes us onto a dirt road cutting through the forest. Shadows and light alternate at the same rhythm as Lorenzo’s pedal strokes. This trail is a perfect start to the ride: not too steep, not too technical, but with beautiful panoramic views of the surrounding peaks. As soon as we leave the forest, we get to El Brite De Larieto, a characteristic and well-kept agriturismo. There is just enough time for a coffee, a quick look around the stables, and a wave to the cows grazing in the fields indifferent to the wonders around them. We are soon back on paved roads heading towards Rio Gere ski resort; with the cable car closed for the season, we’re faced with a challenging 300-metre climb up the mountain. This ascent is only for the bravest or most skilled: the gradient and rough terrain are enough to test anybody’s riding skills. We leave places with evocative names to be visited some other day: Forcella del Diavolo, Forcella della Torre, Cima Cadin del Deserto.

We emerge just below Son Forca refuge. We are alone amidst vertical yellow rock walls dotted with greenery and surrounded by a clear blue sky. No lunch for us: the refuge is closed, and we need to cross the completely wild Val Rio Bosco. We begin the descent along a trail with Monte Cristallo looming above us at a height of 3,216 metres. Our wheels pick up stones, our bags get tossed around, and our brake discs overheat. At a certain point, we come to a halt with our mouths gaping − not for air − at the sight of the sheer beauty unfolding before us. We would have happily stayed there, in that yellow field flanked by fir trees climbing up steep rocks, dreaming of life beyond time.

We still have 50 kilometres to go to complete our first stage. The sun is setting behind the peaks on our left as we pick up the pace on a dirt road that gradually gets steeper and rockier. It is wonderful to watch Lorenzo play around like a young kid: jumps, skids and Scandinavian flicks. We reach the road, but immediately take a cycle path past small lakes with mesmerising reflections. Around us, the spectacle continues: we don’t know which way to turn so we simply let these mountains sink into our memories.

As we get closer to Dobbiaco, the temperature drops and we put on extra layers of clothing. Taking advantage of the last rays of sun, we decide it’s time for a beer in town. Skipping lunch was not a good idea, and it will take some time to get our strength back. Dobbiaco, known as the gateway to the Dolomites and municipality of the Three Peaks, has a different landscape, of fields and hills. The ‘green valley’ awaits us tomorrow, but now it’s time to try an Amaro Odle. To the waitress’s surprise we really like it and tell her to leave the bottle on the table for a couple more rounds: we have warmed up at last.

The second day is one of those with flat light and the kind of cold that gets into your head. We check the weather forecast again, which still says it is going to be sunny with clear skies. We ride the first few kilometres around the edge of the forest, passing some strange, closed facilities, so neat and tidy that we start to think somebody must be waiting for us. We come to Lake Valdaora with its blue-grey water and sandy shores. After 20 kilometres, we take the Plan de Corones cable car: the thermometer says 2 degrees Celsius at the start; it will be hard to leave the relative warmth of the cabin. As we expected, the cold bites even harder up here, so we try to warm up on the road that takes us to San Vigilio di Marebbe. Smooth, with some stretches of paving, this long descent has made us hungry.

We stop for a pizza by the bell tower with the sun shining at last. On my travels, I have noticed that we all tend to take some unnecessary item with us: some take a book, some a notebook and others pencils. Lorenzo starts drawing, playing around with the colours that get more vibrant as we get higher. I don’t take out my book; I am content to admire his artistry. Lorenzo designs bike helmets for a living, but when he’s riding he prefers to focus on his surroundings and anything that catches his eye.

We set off again taking the cable car from San Vigilio to Piz de Plaies. This is the start of a long climb that takes us to Badia. By the time we reach the top, we have already covered 43 kilometres. On the way down, we decide to take a detour to a scenic observation point: we are speechless when we find ourselves on the kind of single track we could only have dreamt of, right in the middle of a bright green meadow mowed to perfection. In front of us, the circular path up Piz da Peres blocks out the horizon. If this is not paradise, it is very much like it. From here on, it is really hard not to stop every minute or so to admire the view and take some photos. The green colour of the meadows, the orange hues of the cliffs and trees, the blue of the sky and Lorenzo’s jersey are perhaps, just products of our imagination. We know we are going to arrive late, but wandering is meant for those people who are not bogged down in the present. The trail that descends to San Cassiano, running alongside Sasso di Santa Croce, is one of the most beautiful I have ever seen: alpine mountain biking at its best, as the sun slowly sets. We sleep near Piz Sorega cable car station, but first we end the evening with a traditional dinner: red sauerkraut, goulash, and dumplings.

Snow fell on the last day, just a few metres above our hotel. We decide to adjust the route according to this unexpected change in weather and take the Piz Sorega cable car up to the bike park. We step into these dust-covered ‘eggs’ under the watchful eyes of the staff: we will probably be the only people biking up to the top. We fully enjoy this last hurrah, carving turns in the white covered slopes and jumping the bumps in the bike park. By now we are wet and muddy, but that’s all part of the game. We have a second breakfast around 11 before we head back down, and then we get ready to tackle the first climb of the day, in the sunshine.

We arrive at Forte Tre Sassi after riding a stretch of dirt road and another of paved road: it’s a reminder of a not-so-distant past, when these areas were still part of Austria. Descending to the Falzarego pass, the icy wind puts us to the test, and we respond by deciding to have a third breakfast. We go into a bar at the pass and gladly grab a beer and a slice of Sachertorte. Despite the weather, Falzarego is still a busy pass, thanks to the Lagazuoi Cable Car, an incredible work of engineering completed in 1964: viewed from below, the arrival station perched on rock is a striking sight.

The fatigue and cold from the previous days are beginning to take their toll. We tackle a technical uphill section that requires pushing our bikes for about ten minutes, then we ride down to the ski slopes of Cortina. Our efforts are rewarded when, after the last climb up a beautiful trail, we reach a stunning observation point with an incredible view of the Olympic village below and majestic Croda Rossa. The descent is great fun, despite the uneven ground, but we still stop to admire Fanes waterfalls, which flow through a series of enchanting canyons. It is here that this morning’s snowfall ends, as well as our journey.

Being able to make it snow while riding a bike would be quite the superpower, but I don’t think most of the people I know would agree. That’s why I enjoyed this unexpected white line clearly marking the boundary between the cycling season and ski season: I am well aware that the last call of the Dolomites never disappoints. The murmuring of the forests and waters, the cold wind striking our jackets, the snow sticking to the tyres, our cheeks reddened by the cold: all of these feelings are amplified in the shadows of these timeless rock walls. A bike ride suddenly turns into a mystical adventure, leaving memories I will draw on in darker times. Memories made of colours, shapes, and feelings.

On the car journey home, we don’t talk about sporting exploits, material things or upcoming purchases. We talk about life choices, the right approach to things, what truly matters above and beyond our everyday commitments. We’re talking about slowing down, so we don’t just consume the beauty around us without truly experiencing it. A bike is the perfect way of enjoying it; it is a tool that helps us think, not an activity with an end in itself. Three days in the Dolomites, almost alone, help change our perspective. For some people, like Lorenzo who lives in the mountains, daily life in contact with nature, is the norm. For many others, it’s a distant dream, or perhaps they just need to wait for the right call.