piccolagorai

I bought a gravel bike, and I organized a tour with friends around a lesser group of mountains in Trentino (Italy), called the Lagorai group.

Now, if the mountains were gods I would be instantly struck by thunderbolts for having called it a “lesser” mountain. Despite not being as famous as the nearby Dolomites, these are serious mountains, less spectacular perhaps but wilder; there are no crowds on its trails, no fancy mountain huts serving prosecco with pumping music in the background. And if you happen to be in Bellamonte, you would certainly notice these dark and imposing lines of jagged peaks, often obscured by heavy clouds.

And there is a gravel tour called the Gran Lagorai, that has caught my attention for some time now. I don’t know if people are aware of this tour, I don’t know the people that found this route, connected the dots and prepared the excellent website. The following quotes are copied straight from their excellent manifesto:

The Granlagorai Bike Adventure is a permanent bikepacking route […] The Lagorai still preserves a wild soul: a rare, scarcely populated wilderness. We believe that those who experience the mountains can do so respectfully, without harming their biodiversity or identity […] The route is built on two principles: freedom and respect.[…] Honor the mountains and their fragile harmony. Prepare well, set off whenever you wish, and experience the Lagorai with respect: your adventure is waiting.

And this is indeed a gran tour: it’s 280 km with more than 8000 m of climbing. I have never done anything like this so I shrunk the tour, called it “piccolo” (small) and invited 3 friends to share the adventure.

(yes I know it may seem a stretch to call a 3 days bike ride with comfortable stops in nice refugios an “adventure” but the benchmark here is the 10 minute daily commute).

“peak” lagorai?

Now what is with the name of this post. It just means small (“piccolo”) Lagorai tour. What I did was look up the original route, make a few changes, then call Paolo, Phil and Max with only one rule: all on gravel bikes. Because this was the first proper ride on my new Fairlight Secan.

(During the back and forth on our whatsapp group, Phil kept over-analysing the route and extract meaningless statistics like average slope, projected riding times etc, and he was half-jokingly suggesting that the best bike would have been a mountain bike not a gravel bike; in the end he only changed his chainring to a 36t, while the rest of us rode what we had, which is pretty conventional standard Shimano groupset with 40t rings paired to 12 speed cassettes).

day 1

I honestly thought it was a good start for our ride (38km, 1850m of climbing). But this is what it really was:

• a relentless climb up to Passo Manghen
• a very long, very fast road descent (with Paolo terrorizing the fellow bikers with motogp-style overtakes)
• a ten minute uber technical trail, made it spicier by wobbling bags and tall seats
• another (smaller) climb to our final destination, rifugio Carlettini

day 2

Day 2 is the longest day. Phil decides to get a taxi and will wait for us at Capanna Cervino, above (way above) San Martino di Castrozza. We will get there after riding 66km with ~2400m of climbing.

Also, notice the Tracks 6000 banner. This rifugio is the starting place for a crazy and secretive long-distance event that is annually around here. Look it up if you dare.

I happened on a quote taken from a NYT article written in 1878 (!) while I was working on these photos:

“The bicyclist appropriates the aesthetic meaning of the winged heel with which the ancients endowed the messenger of the gods. […] The bicycle ranks among those gifts of science to man […] Why should he go a-foot then he can ride a mustang of steel who knows his rider and never needs a lasso? This is no boy’s plaything. There are plenty of men who prefer it on some accounts to a horse or yacht.”

Read it here.

We had no idea, but a proper gravel event was being organized without our consent. Next time let us know people, we will share our supreme knowledge and expertise.

We got up to Lago Calaita after the nearly infinite climb from Canal San Bovo. Only 10km but very steep, it felt like a slog. So there is this place, an albergo/rifugio called Miralago Calaita that you can reach by car, so after being on our own for what felt like a very long ride we were catapulted back in the thick of Dolomites tourism. It was already a bit late for lunch, like early afternoon, so I ask hey, can we get anything to eat? Just some sandwiches? (“pane, formaggio e speck” that’s what you would usually have"). And they said no, lunch time is over, fuck off please.

So here I ask to the numerous reader of this post: don’t go to Hotel Miralago Calaita. When you are in the mountains you always have respect for one another, and people managing mountain huts should be the first to show this kind of respect; they always welcome the travelers, make space to sleep if they’re get late, give you something to eat. But here we were told no food here (and the nearest village along the way is San Martino di Castrozza, around 13km of trails). So fuck you Hotel Miralago Calaita. I won’t even show a photo of the place because I’m still so mad.

(I should write a google review actually and make it public)

day 3