A Drive Like No Other

There are times when you stumble upon a journey that is unforgettable

The Stelvio Pass. It was a drive like no other. We were expecting it to be scenic but this was just another level – right into the heart of the European Alps.
After leaving Vols am Schlern, a delightful alpine village in the northern-most province of Italy, we made our way up the valley through beautiful fruit orchards, ringed by the mountains, to one of the best examples of a medieval castle.
Churburg Castle, near Glorenza, was built toward the middle of 1200AD.
I was expecting it to be on top of the range, just over the border by a couple of kilometres into Switzerland … standing out for all to see.
But that was the first misconception of the day.

The town was at the head of the valley and the castle just above the town itself … beautiful, and sitting much like it was in the 15th century.
The castle was authentic and apparently it had a great collection of armour. But it was lunchtime so it wasn’t open to the public.
However, it still gave you that sense of nostalgia, and as if you were touching history.
Lunch was in town, a pretty town with river running through it, then it was time to head up the pass.
It started off innocently enough – forest on both sides of the river that was running through the gully.
Just as we started to climb the range there was this a remarkable house and outdoor gallery – I don’t know what you call it … a bone museum, I think he described it as.

All sorts of bones from animals from the bush, mainly, but who knows what else was in there. It was bizarre in many ways.
The house was completely done with it. There was an open-air gallery alongside the river – again with the bones as works of art.
He wanted a euro to take the photos. I immediately thought back to Mexico when a woman got on the bus and she was looking for donations.
The American teacher I was standing with at that time said, give the money to her. Treat it as insurance against any curses she may put on you.
So I did the same with this fellow – I gave him a euro as insurance about making it over the pass safely.
Our host at Tirano had recommended this journey, as opposed to the one that went up and into Switzerland. She said it was much more scenic.
I was expecting to get up on the range and be looking down on beautiful lakes and valleys, but I should’ve guessed when they talked about it being part of the Giro d’Italia cycling event.

As we started to climb, we had rock walls as safety barriers and then we were into some hairpin bends.
We still had forests either side when we arrived at a little village with a resort of some sort – like the ones you will see on Swiss postcards.
Then you start to see the mountains unfold in front of your eyes – glaciers and bare rock slopes.
The higher we got, the tighter the turns became.
In Italy, most cars are manual and my colleague was doing an amazing job driving … missing dropping back to first gear occasionally but getting us there.
It became edge-of-your-seat stuff – like a James Bond movie – because they were blind horseshoe bends going up.
Those drivers coming down had more of a look at who was coming, but when you going up you don’t get much of a chance.
It seemed to be treated as a race by those driving down – a rite of passage.
They came down in groups: Ferraris, Lamborghinis, Maseratis.
It was the same with motorbikes and with cyclists.

I kept saying the only way I’m going do this trip again is to walk up or go on a bicycle.
We stopped just about to the top where we could see the hairpin bends below us and the sheer breadth of this journey.
This was glacier level. You could see ski lifts and powerlines on the landscape, sheer rock walls … and then this creature popped out and made its way through the mountain grasses into the trees.
Was it a fox? A beaver? No, beavers are near the water.
Bigger than a possum though.

Later, we discovered it was a marmot. Marmota the locals called it.
At the top of the range was an inn and people gathered there, with their cars, motorbikes, bicycles, backpacks.
It was then we realised that only days before other colleagues had done the ride for a Ducati motorbike reunion.
We were in Italy but on the border of Switzerland. Austria was in the north east and France off to the west.

At 2757m above sea level, it is the highest paved mountain pass in the Eastern Alps, and the second highest in the Alps.
The Stelvio Pass is regarded as the greatest driving road in the world. There are 75 bends – 48 of them on the northern side, numbered with stones.
Reaching the top was actually a breath of fresh air because on the way down, towards Tirano, the bends were not quite as sharp.

It wasn’t as steep, but the countryside was stark – like the Scottish highlands or an Icelandic landscape.
There were abandoned lodges and workers hostels, pristine waterfalls and cattle grazing.
It was just like another world – the Swiss Alps were off to the right and now we were into another valley.

Tirano was a welcome sight. Surprising in many ways.
Authentic, friendly, and having such a strong relationship with Australia.
This stemmed back to the 1950s, when so many people immigrated from there to find work here.
It seemed as if everyone in the town had a contact or a relative who had made their way across to the other side of the world.
Would I do the Stelvio Pass again?
Probably … but come from Tirano.