You should never go into a supermarket during the first five hours after returning from a long ride.
To do so is to see yourself sweeping all sorts of unlikely products into a trolley as your hunger rules your head.
A kilo of the latest bizarre chocolate bar with marshmallows, popping candy and mustard powder? In it goes. A packet of blackberry and apple flavour crisps? I’ll take two dozen.
You arrive at the till with everything except the small quiche you popped in for.
In short, you make unreasonable decisions, the like of which you would never make on a full stomach.
Similarly, you should never ring up the editor of Cyclist and suggest a ‘terrific route’ for a Big Ride immediately after driving it in a Porsche 911 GT3.
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Being powered by over 450bhp (it’s not mine, I was reviewing the car. I know, I know, it’s alright for some…) does dastardly things to your judgement of how steep a road is.
Unfortunately it’s only now, two years later and 15 minutes into the suggested Big Ride in southern Austria, that I’m realising this.
With cold legs wondering what has hit them, I’m tackling a 4km stretch at a sustained average gradient of more than 12%, and yet I barely remember driving this bit through the trees when I was here before.
In my mind this was just ‘a few hairpins among the pines’ to get to the proper scenery above, but it’s actually the toughest start to any ride I think I’ve done.
Chance encounter
The 2km spin on the flat through the town centre of Sölden first thing this morning already seems like a distant luxury.
Sölden lies at the southern end of the beautiful Ötztal valley and is apparently the second-most visited place in Austria after Vienna.
As well as a good dollop of Tyrolean charm, it has (according to our host and local legend Ernst) six pizza places, four strip clubs and 38 sports shops.
We only sampled one of those things yesterday evening, before retiring for an early night in Ernst’s guesthouse, just behind the bike shop on the northern edge of the town.
A magnificent thunderstorm during the early hours had lit up the surrounding mountains – standing at the window for half an hour I watched the lightning illuminating craggy peaks in the darkness with flashes of almost purple-white iridescence.
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As a result there is a wonderful, almost sterilised freshness to the air that I’m sucking in this morning. The ride today is a curious one as it’s not really a loop, like we’d usually do, but two spectacular out-and-back climbs.
The first is known as the Ötztaler Gletscherstrasse (glacier road). Confusingly it was used in the Tour de Suisse in 2015 having previously featured (equally oddly) in the now defunct Deutschland Tour in 2005 and 2007.
Thibaut Pinot took the win in 2015 but Geraint Thomas also featured strongly, giving us an indication of what a force he would be in the mountains when he got to that year’s Tour de France.
Full steam ahead
Light grey clouds are hanging around the peaks, but as the sun begins to burn through, so the road starts to gently steam.
I’m getting into a rhythm now, my legs moving more easily, and it feels like a lovely morning to be out for a pedal, with the temperature just right.
As it’s a dead end road, there’s very little traffic too, so there’s a peaceful Alpine serenity in among the trees.
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After 5km, the trees begin to thin, the gradient eases significantly and the road spreads out like a river running into an estuary.
The increase in width is to accommodate a slightly excessive number of toll booths that guard the road to the glacier.
Only one is open and, being on a bike, I don’t need to pay anyway so I nip past the barrier and the road immediately rises up once more.
This second half of the climb is really what I’m here for. I’m in a huge glacial valley that is scaled by its northern side until it arrives at the remnants of the glacier at the top.
The end in sight
I can see my goal more or less from 7km out, although it’s probably not much more than four kilometres away as the crow flies. Just four hairpins zig and zag up the side of the valley, meaning long, sustained ramps for my legs to cope with.
The average gradient is just under 11% and remains fairly consistent the whole way up.
An old Peugeot crawls past, elegant in a way that Peugeots haven’t been for some years, but its engine is definitely not disguising the gradient.
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Then up ahead I see Ernst and photographer Richie stopped on a hairpin, but this time they’re not waiting for me.
They’re talking to a group of cyclists. One in particular stands out – powerful, tanned, in charge, with mighty calf muscles hewn from years in the saddle.
I unclip, come to a halt and we shake hands as Ernst makes introductions. It turns out I’m shaking hands with Jan Ullrich, the German former winner of the Tour de France. It seems that his day job is now guiding clients on rides like this.
There are a couple of minutes of German chitchat during which I rue the fact that the only German words I know are achtung and spiegelei.
The opportunity to say, ‘Attention, fried egg!’ doesn’t really arise, so we shake hands again before Ullrich and the others clip
in and begin descending. Ullrich leads, dropping like a stone down the steep mountain road.
Then there were two
Brief interlude over, I don a jacket having got cold standing around and I’m about to resume climbing when Ernst hails another chap, this one making his way up the mountain.
This is Rupert, a local rider who was originally going to join me for the whole ride, but a work commitment detained him and he’s only got a couple of hours spare.
After more handshakes, we set off and it’s nice to have some company on the final push to the top. Rupert’s a strong rider and the last couple of switchbacks go past quickly.
The road meanders towards a beautiful blue lake filled with glacial meltwater, and Rupert decides this is the perfect venue to perform some on-bike circus tricks for the camera.
I think about juggling some water bottles, but instead decide to just look at the view back down towards Sölden. It’s truly spectacular and I can see why they chose to film scenes from Spectre, the most recent Bond film, up here.
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A restaurant and some ski shops mark a fork in the road. One way leads through a long tunnel to a car park and another restaurant, the other up through a couple more hairpins to a much smaller car park.
We take the latter route, which is no more than a few hundred metres in length, but seems to hurt my legs a disproportionate amount, the altitude perhaps finally taking its toll.
At the top, the reason for the road becomes clear. There wasn’t a particular need for another car park up here, but by continuing the road a little higher it has awarded itself the accolade of being the highest road in the EU, topping out at a breathtaking 2,830m.
Highest road?
There’s a sign inscribed with the legend ‘Highest Road in the EU’, though confusingly it’s at the lower altitude of 2,798m down on the main road.
Either way, I can’t help wondering if the inhabitants of Spain’s Sierra Nevada know about this.
The Veleta climb in the south of Spain reaches 3,300m, so really the Ötztal glacier road can only claim to be the second highest road in the EU, but this probably isn’t the time to point it out to my Austrian hosts.
The weather has been closing in for a while and, with the first drops of rain beginning to fall, we don’t linger long, heading down to the shelter of the restaurant for a hot chocolate while it blows over.
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Half an hour later we tackle the descent and it’s one of the fastest I’ve ever done – or at least it would be if the road wasn’t sopping wet.
The long straight back towards the toll booths feels like a giant ski jump. I tuck for as long as possible, but I’m still some way off when I begin squeezing the brakes.
Much as I love the Mavics, like all rim brake wheels they need a lot of stopping space in the wet.
At the halfway station I bid farewell to Rupert, who bungs his Scott in the back of a crazy-looking modified Beetle cabriolet, and then continue down through the trees to Sölden.
At the bottom, Ernst and Richie head back into town to get some lunch but I turn right, towards Italy.
The second climb
Starting in Sölden, the climb of the Timmelsjoch is 22.5km long at an average of 5%, topping out on the border between Austria and Italy.
It actually begins with a brief descent, then kicks up to around 8% for a couple of kilometres before calming down and sitting at just over 4% for 5km.
I’m halfway through a handful of early hairpins when Richie and Ernst draw alongside in the car. I can’t say I’m entirely appreciative of their lavish description of the sumptuous mushroom ravioli they have just sat down to, but I’m glad to get rid of my jacket.
There are more toll booths a kilometre or so further up the road and as I approach them it begins raining again. My legs are beginning to feel the continuous climbing but thankfully a beautiful descent just after the barriers provides both respite and encouragement.
It leads into something that’s rather unexpected halfway up a mountain: a really long straight.
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With light reflecting off the smooth wet tarmac, the long strip is bewitchingly beautiful. It is also deceptively steep. After a while I begin to wonder if it’s actually some sort of subtle travelator because the scenery doesn’t seem to be moving.
The rain is getting harder and colder too as I pass through 2,000m for the third time today. Slowly the sky darkens. I should probably put the jacket back on but I feel that if I stop I might not get going again.
A distant rumble of thunder briefly spikes my adrenaline, but I can feel that my legs are starting to stutter.
Just as I’m deep in this dripping world of slowly cramping pain I find a crumb of carbohydrate comfort. Uncurling the fingers of my left hand from their death grip on the sodden black bar tape, I reach behind my back and into the nearest pocket.
Liquid gold
With cold uncooperative hands it takes a while to search blindly for what I’m sure is in there. For a moment I think I must have left it in the room, or the car, but just as my shoulders are starting to slump with despondence, I find it.
Who would have thought that a small squidgy packet of saccharine sustenance could be so mentally uplifting? I haven’t even opened it yet, in fact I’m not sure that I’ve got the energy, but there is something comforting about its glossy packaging.
It feels like a small tube of molten toothpaste in my hand. Mercifully it rips open easily, and I greedily squeeze half the contents into my mouth.
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The effect is instant, because it wasn’t really the carbs I was craving. It was the taste. I don’t consume many gels, but there is one that tingles my tastebuds like no other and I try to keep it for special occasions. Occasions like this.
As soon as the Raspberry Ripple hits the inside of my mouth it’s as though I’ve been mentally teleported through time and space far away from this freezing mountain.
My legs might still be pounding out 75rpm but my mind is on a childhood holiday sitting on the edge of a very particular bench just down from the dairy on St Mary’s in the Isles of Scilly.
In my hand is my favourite ice cream (raspberry ripple, in case you couldn’t guess) and the sun is beating down as I idly swing my legs back and forth.
I savour the thought for as long as I can, squeezing the other half of the gooey nectar into my mouth just as the fantasy is starting to fade. Eventually I can prolong the panacea no more and I wipe the rain from my eyes.
Hard yards
There are only a couple of kilometres left, and I feel like I’m finally reaching the end of the huge valley. Unusually for such a big climb I haven’t seen a hairpin since back down near the start, but now I can see a switchback ahead. I can see cows too.
They’re just milling around on the road looking none too chuffed with the weather, and they stand like statues as I weave in and out of them.
Even up here, the road is beautifully smooth and the film of water coating the surface adds a mirror-like sheen. The hairpins are wide, so when I get out of the saddle it’s more to ease the muscles and enjoy a brief change of rhythm than from any need to battle the gradient.
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Despite the grim weather, this trek to the top of the Timmelsjoch is in many ways one of my most enjoyable rides.
I’m battling the cold and the rain and the altitude and the sheer exhaustion, but despite my body hinting that it would like to stop, I find it perversely fun to test my mental mettle, block out the pain and push on.
At the summit there is a small building. Down at sea level we’d call it a cafe, but up here at the top of the pass it is better described as a refuge.
After a brief visit to Italy, I clatter unsteadily up the slippery wooden steps of the building, push through the door and sit shivering on a bench while Richie kindly orders me one hot chocolate with cream, swiftly followed by another.
Outside the mist is swirling and perched on a peak is a curious rust-coloured container. It is in fact made of concrete and houses a museum documenting how the pass was built in 17 months between 1955 and 1959 (the winter stopped proceedings each year).
Normally I’d be looking forward to a long 23km plunge back down to Sölden, but today, in the rain, soaked to my core, another hot chocolate seems a far better idea.
It has been a memorable day out, though. This ride might not be that long in distance, but it takes in nearly 3,000m of climbing in just 49km and spends a fair amount of time in some of the thinnest air on European roads.
I would happily do it all again just so I could repeat the descent. Or perhaps continue over the top, on into Italy and the picturesque Passo del Rombo. Another time.
High and mighty
Follow Cyclist’s double ascent in Austria
Total distance: 72km. Total ascent: 2,775m
To download this route, go to cyclist.co.uk/57austria. From Sölden, leave town heading south on the 186. The road bends round to the right, after which a right-hand turn takes you onto the Gletscherstrasse.
This leads for 12.5km up to the Ötztal glacier. At the top take the road to the right of the buildings and you will reach the high point.
Retrace your tyre tracks to the junction with the 186 and turn right, following the road for 10km. At a big triangular junction with the L15 follow the road round to the left.
Then it’s just a case of climbing 11km up to the Timmelsjoch, from where you can head back to Sölden.
The rider's ride![]()
Canyon Ultimate CF SLX 9.0, £5,599, canyon.com
On a day that featured so much climbing, a bike as light as the Canyon Ultimate CF SLX 9.0 is a good friend. Canyon claims just 790g for the frame and the whole bike tips the scales at a soupçon over 6kg, yet at times it feels even lighter.
The particular sensation of the bike zipping out of a steep hairpin did wonders for my morale towards the end of the final gruelling ascent, and the stiff Mavic R-Sys SLR wheels no doubt helped in this regard, too.
As ever, the fuss-free shifting of an electric system (in this case Campagnolo’s gorgeous Super Record EPS) was a boon when searching for the last cog on an incline.
I’d love to say how comfortable the Canyon was, too, but to be honest the roads on this particular ride were so smooth that I’d be
telling porkies if I said there was much chance to assess it.
Nonetheless, the strands of uncooked spaghetti masquerading as seatstays are clearly designed with compliance in mind. All in all, it was an excellent companion.
How we got there
Travel
The good news is that, after an annoying hiatus, direct flights to Innsbruck from the UK have started up again with flights from both Gatwick and Heathrow.
From Innsbruck it’s just over an hour to Sölden by car. Alternatively you could approach from the south, flying into Verona and then driving to Sölden in about 3h 45min.
This would allow you to combine the trip with a ride in the Dolomites too.
Where to stay
We stayed in Sölden at the Gästehaus Lorenzi (lorenzi-soelden.at), which is conveniently placed behind a bike shop and has free parking and spacious rooms.
There are, however, plenty of options in Sölden, catering for pretty much every budget.
The Hotel Rosengarten (hotelrosengarten.at) does a fine pizza if you’re looking for somewhere to eat.
Thanks
A huge thank you to Ernst Lorenzi for his help in organising and supporting this ride. If you fancy testing yourself on a sportive in the area, you could sign up for the Ötztaler Radmarathon, organized by Ernst, which Cyclist magazine covered in issue 44 (oetztaler-radmarathon.com).
