An icy cold wind blows over the top of the Timmelsjoch pass, clouds drift across the road. The temperature is only just above zero degrees. Between the wispy clouds, the flank of the pass shimmers through again and again: A thin white layer shows that it was even colder at night. At the same time, the thermometer in the starting town of Sölden shows six degrees - the mountains above the Ötztal are also covered in a white layer of sugar. Only 15 kilometres as the crow flies separate Sölden from the Timmelsjoch, but the start arch in Sölden and the timing mat on the pass are worlds apart. Brutal worlds of fast descents and steep climbs that wear down leg muscles and deplete energy stores. Expressed in sober figures: it is around 215 kilometres and 5,600 metres of altitude difference from Sölden to the redemptive pass summit on the Timmelsjoch on the route of the Ötztal Cycle Marathon 2021.
The Ötztal has been making amateur cyclists dream for decades, and they all have respect for the merciless ramps on the last mountain. The best comes at the end, could be the subtitle to the altitude profile: the 2,474 metre high Timmelsjoch awaits as the highest and longest climb of the day just a few kilometres before the finish. 1,760 metres in altitude in one go is the last major hurdle - and to ensure that there is enough energy in the tank for this feat of strength, there is the Schönau refreshment station halfway up the pass.
Everyone talks about the weather
Rarely has there been so much talk about the weather as before this 40th Ötztal Cycle Marathon. Continuous rain at just above zero degrees, snow on the mountain passes - the weather forecast was dreadful. So dreadful, in fact, that a large proportion of those registered didn't even bother to put their race number on their jersey: Only 2,751 out of 4,000 registered participants lined up in the starting blocks on the main street in Sölden at dawn on 29 August.
Perhaps the changed route is also to blame for the conspicuous reluctance to start: due to a rockfall, a diversion has to be taken - with an additional 10 kilometres and 250 metres of altitude. For years, the organisers had stated a longer total distance and more metres in altitude than their cycling marathon actually offered - and now, for the 40th anniversary of all times, these figures are actually being achieved. However, the diversion via Sattele/Haimingerberg not only means more metres in altitude, but also steep ramps right at the start.
Thickly wrapped up, the starters set off at 6.30 am. The dense starting fields push through the villages in Ötztal against the cold wind before heading up to Sattele and on to Kühtai. The icy downhill wind forces the participants to give up in droves. Some drop out after the first descent, others follow at the end of the Kühtai. Mild temperatures beckon at the latest in Italy, on the last third of the route.
While the riders set off from Innsbruck towards the Brenner Pass, the Schönau refreshment station on the Timmelsjoch ascent is already a hive of activity. Men are erecting bike stands and a construction fence in the car park in front of the Schönau inn. Due to the corona hygiene regulations, a barrier should help to prevent too many athletes from coming together at once. Under large party tents, women are buttering sandwiches, distributing cakes on the buffet and peeling gels and bars from their packaging.
Markus Streiter is in charge of the catering station. A little later, he is sitting over a glass of wine in the Schönau inn and talks about the good cooperation with the landlord and his delight at the 30 volunteers who are looking after the catering station this year: "10 to 15 volunteers are always there, and they always bring new ones with them. That's great for the village. You don't organise people via the internet, it's word of mouth." Streiter ran the marathon himself in 1983 and has been in charge of the Schönau station for years. He is part of Wirte AG, which is responsible for the catering stations. This starts with organising the helpers and extends to collecting the home-baked cakes donated by private individuals and local companies.
While the riders at the front have placed their own supporters along the route, the refreshment station is like an oasis in the desert for other participants. The tension there is now rising as the first riders approach. To the left and right of the road, five boys stand ready with water bottles and drinks cans, which they hand to the fast riders. At 12.40 pm, the lead car arrives and shortly behind it is Mattia de Marchi, who is leading at the time. His eyes are bloodshot, his skin is ashen - he passes with a heavy kick. A minute later, two chasers arrive, including the eventual winner Johnny Hoogerland, who even reaches for a bottle of water.
So the young helpers played a small part in the victory. Robert Petzold, in fifth place, slows down properly to receive the can of drink safely. You can tell how happy the participants are about the young helpers - many shout "Thank you!" after grabbing a bottle. The boys are fully committed - soon they are running alongside the riders so that they can hand them their drinks more easily. 13-year-old Markus Hall is taking part for the fourth time. "I always enjoy it because you can help people," he says.
Markus Nösig and Lukas Pössl from 2Rad Hummel in Längenfeld, who help with breakdowns, could certainly agree with this conclusion. Both have ridden the marathon several times and know how the ascent to the Timmelsjoch burns in the legs. They don't have much to do today: a few misaligned gears, air twice and a loose thru-axle. When there is nothing to do, Nösig switches from technical to moral support and cheers on riders for hours on end.
Bad times - in comparison
While hundreds of riders are still gradually arriving at the refreshment station, former pro Johnny Hoogerland crosses the finish line in Sölden after 7 hours and 21 minutes. A comparison with last year's time is impossible due to the lengthening of the course. The riders who now reach the refreshment station in Schönau are also aware of this. The time ridden on the Ötzi is a figure that many can categorise and, ideally, brag about. Today, however, many are disillusioned by the numbers on the speedometer. "I've already done it four times, but the time is not comparable with the other route - I'm no longer really motivated," says Andreas Köstl. Björn Ender also originally wanted to improve his time. But the new course slowed him down in every respect: "Maybe I rode into the first mountain too fast."
Now, in the early afternoon, large groups of riders are forming for the first time, parking their bikes and choosing from the wide range of refreshments on offer: There are drinks, cakes, sandwiches, bars, gels and even hot soup. The offer is gratefully received and praised time and again. "The catering is mega," says Detlev Briese from Pyrmont. Josy Heidegger from Oetz stands behind the full tables with other women - the Ötztaler is an affair of the heart for her: "We are patriots at the Ötztaler." She has experienced a lot in recent years: "This is where I saw men cry for the first time." Nevertheless, she felt like taking part herself - which she did a few years ago.
Markus Hall, the schoolboy who clearly enjoys his job as a helper, can't understand why: "It would be too strenuous for me." Perhaps it's the pictures in the late afternoon that put him off: pale faces covered in thick salt crusts, cycling shorts with sweaty edges. Most of the participants were over-wrapped because the weather turned out to be better than they had feared in the morning. Adhesive tape around the shoes, neoprene overshoes, long cycling trousers and winter jackets were great at zero degrees in Kühtai, but not in the double-digit temperatures in South Tyrol. "I put on three layers and thought I was going to die on the Jaufen," says Andreas Landkammer from Neunburg.
Exhaustion weighs heavily over the car park at Gasthof Schönau in the late afternoon. Most of the participants sit quietly on the benches and stare into space while munching on cake. "The main thing is to get there," you hear again and again. And questions about the remaining metres in altitude and the control time also come up more and more often. The views of the slope opposite, where the road to the top of the pass can be seen in the cold rock, become increasingly desperate.
The view from Schönau to the "Timmel" is sobering: a terrifying collection of steep ramps seems to lead directly into the clouds - the redeeming pass summit is nowhere to be seen. The exhausted legs still have 800 metres of altitude to conquer. There is no turning back. Sabine Stampf from Freiburg has been standing at the refreshment station for a while - she can't quite bring herself to set off. A hunger pang on the Jaufen Pass really slowed her down, and now she has the feeling that she's not going to fill up. She just wants to "get through well". A cold wind blows across the course and it rains briefly every now and then. "The heroes are always the slow ones," says station manager Markus Streiter.
But you're also a hero if you know when you've had enough. Andreas Völpel from Hanover has already completed the Ötztaler three times, but this time his knee is not playing ball. So he has given up the fight and loads his bike into the van, which is already waiting. He is still in a good mood. Wrapped in a warm blanket, he waits in a deckchair for the bus back to Sölden and curiously watches the last cyclists. Only nine starters give up in Schönau - out of a total of 490 dropouts. Those who have made it this far are determined to finish, like Konrad Ammann from Munich, who is one of the last to leave the refreshment station towards the top of the pass. He stoically pedals his slow, desperate rhythm. On the ramps of the Timmelsjoch, he repeatedly moves from the right to the left side of the road. As a shining dot, he slowly makes his way up in his neon yellow cycling jacket - behind him a long queue of vehicles making their way from the dismantled refreshment station to Sölden.
At the top of the pass, sleet blows in Ammann's face and the bike marathon reporter has a few words dictated into the microphone. It will be almost an hour before Ammann, accompanied by the race director's car, arrives at the finish line, where he is greeted with a beer. "That was the hardest marathon, but at the same time the most beautiful," he says trembling into the microphone. He has realised his dream - even if it was a real nightmare at times. He and the 2,260 finishers who crossed the finish line ahead of him that day can brag for a long time about having completed the longest Ötztaler ever.
