Somewhere on the descent from Passo Giau, I find myself humming to myself. It’s the first of three descents on this second day; the stage is still long – but I’m really tired. I try to keep myself awake, talking to myself, gently slapping my face with the flat of my hand. And I think about giving up. There are still two descents to go, and riding downhill when I’m this tired is a risk I don’t want to take.
But first things first. And for all you sensationalists out there, let me say straight away: I didn’t have a mechanical problem, nor did I have a crash. It wasn’t boring, though.
Travelling amongst strangers
I’ve got a three-day stage race coming up. I’m travelling to Lienz for the start by train; my bike is in the separate cycle compartment on the Eurocity. The train arrives in Spittal seven minutes late; I have to change trains here. My connecting train is actually due to leave right now – but it’s waiting. It’s almost a shame – otherwise I’d have treated myself to an ice cream.
There are other Transalp participants on the train: a newcomer like me and someone who’s taken part several times before. We didn’t mention our names. Later on, it’ll be less anonymous; we’re looking forward to seeing the familiar faces again. The two of them are staying at the camp; I’m staying at a hotel. The camp is the rustic side of the Transalp – a communal dormitory at the stage destination, sometimes in a sports hall, and after the second stage even just under a wooden roof. I’m also told about a nuclear fallout shelter where people once spent the night. Those who’ve chosen the camp are happy with their decision. “It’s all part of the experience”, “You get to know each other”, “Especially for solo riders, the camp offers a great opportunity to chat with others”. Some have brought camp beds; most have a sleeping mat and a sleeping bag.
The TOUR Transalp has been running since 2003. It was founded by Uli Stanciu, who had previously devised a similar event for mountain bikers. What began as an idea for a two-person team to cross the Alps has evolved into a spectacular stage race open to everyone. In 2026, this will involve seven days and over 17,000 metres of elevation gain. Participants from 37 nations will be at the start. I won’t be riding the whole week, but will be taking part in the 3-Day Challenge – the first three stages in a separate classification. Just under 300 kilometres, around 7,000 metres of elevation gain, through East Tyrol and the Dolomites.
Getting into the swing of things out in the field
I need the first thirty minutes to find my feet. I haven’t ridden in a road cycling group for ages; that was actually on my pre-race to-do list: in the jumbled pack, I don’t even dare reach for my water bottle at first. It’s only when we hit the first climb and the field starts to stretch out that I settle down. Bit by bit, I overtake people.
I know I’m riding too fast. My FTP is just under 200 watts – roughly 3.4 watts per kilo – and I’m sticking to this threshold because the slightly higher cadence feels better, even if it means I’m putting out too much power.
Then, after a downhill stretch, a man is lying in the recovery position at the side of the road, with a paramedic holding an IV drip. It almost brings tears to my eyes, and I hope it was just the heat. Because it is hot. I never found out what had happened to him – but the image stays with me, along with the realisation that it can happen faster than you think. Others I spoke to later felt the same way: you start to question things and ride more carefully.
I feel confident riding downhill during the Transalp, but I wanted to practise that again beforehand too. Wanted to. I didn’t have the time. When people shoot past me from behind, I get a bit queasy.
Over the final few kilometres, I push myself beyond my limits once more, until I reach the timing point at kilometre 106. After that, I coast for seven kilometres along a road that’s far too wide and has far too many cars. In the evening, over dinner, I come across familiar faces – people I’d seen out on the course earlier in the day and with whom I now strike up a conversation. There’s a great deal of respect for the challenge ahead tomorrow: my sat-nav shows just under 4,000 metres of elevation gain and 135 kilometres. That’s going to be tough with my gear ratio – small chainring 35, largest sprocket 36 teeth. My quiet plea to the manufacturers: fit road bikes with more gears for ordinary folk who enjoy riding in the mountains.
The day I almost gave up
The night could have been more restful. A honey roll for a second breakfast, then the neutralised start: twelve kilometres before the race really gets going. Starting from the third and final starting block, I don’t even realise where the neutralised section ends.
I’m feeling better today, although I can tell my legs had to work hard yesterday. I’m no longer worried about the large group at the start; it breaks up bit by bit anyway. And then, for the first time, the landscape reveals a view of the jagged, towering rocks of the Dolomites. “Wow, look how beautiful!” I say to myself. The second time round, too. And even the tenth time, I’m still thinking the same thing.
The first pass of the day is the Passo Giau. Even as I’m climbing, I can feel how tired my head is. It gets worse on the descent. Now we’re at the point where the report begins. Singing, talking to myself, slapping my face. I’m not giving up. I carry on cycling. Later, I’m more alert and fully focused again. What a relief.
Another problem is already waiting for me. I’m not sure if it’s just air trying to escape from my tummy or something more. I’m pinning my hopes on the refreshment stop at the top of the next pass, the Passo Staulanza, and on there being a café with a toilet there. There is. And it was just air. Lucky escape; I’d been worried my digestive system couldn’t cope with all those gels. Now I can get back to pedalling. But first, a descent.
The last pass of the day is the Passo Duran; I’m feeling good. On the steep climb, I overtake a few people. Just five kilometres to go, four, three, one. They’re timing us at the top. Then we just have to coast down to the stage finish, thirty kilometres away. I’ve saved a bit of energy for this, as my Garmin still shows 900 metres of elevation gain. A false impression, as I realise when we go through the first of two tunnels. Each tunnel reduces the total by 300 metres of elevation gain.
When I reach my destination, Falcade, I feel proud and relieved – but, to be honest, also a bit disappointed. I would have liked to have been faster. But hey, last year I hardly cycled at all due to injury, and in winter I had little energy for training. It’s only been a few months since I started cycling more regularly again. So I try to focus solely on the pride. After the first day, I was in the top ten of the 3-Day Challenge – or to put it another way: in fifth place out of six women in my category. Only five of them finished day two. Meike, who has been living in the US for 25 years and works as a physiotherapist, skidded off the road on a left-hand bend. Fortunately, she only suffered some grazes. She’ll be back at the start line on the third day.
In the shower, I realise my sun cream hasn’t worked. Perhaps it isn’t sweat-resistant; tomorrow I’ll cycle in long sleeves. In the evening, as every evening, there’s a meal for everyone. I see the same faces as the day before; they just seem more familiar now. One of them is Peter, whom I already know from another tour. Back then, he invited me into his garden for some cake, and I promptly stepped in dog poo whilst wearing my cycling shoes. An anecdote that’s etched into my memory. This year marks Peter’s 21st time taking part in the TOUR Transalp – the most appearances of anyone in the starting field. It was touch-and-go whether he’d be able to start again: a serious cycling accident last year could easily have ended very differently.
Across the finish line at 43 °C
My final day begins with a loop featuring two short, steep climbs. At 48 kilometres – 40 of which are timed – the stage is short. But it has 1,800 metres of elevation gain. No wonder both my water bottles are empty by the refreshment station at kilometre 23. Skipping the refreshments before the final climb is not an option. I top up as usual: one bottle gets water with a pinch of salt, the other an isotonic drink, and I eat a waffle and a slice of melon. On the descent, I’m glad of my loose-fitting long-sleeved shirt, which flutters so nicely around my upper body.
The final climb is relatively gentle, with a 400-metre ascent over six kilometres. I’m putting out about 3.1 watts per kilo. I can’t go any faster. The heat is certainly a factor too. According to Garmin, temperatures on today’s stage range from 28 to 43 °C. But as always, I still manage to overtake a few people on the climb. Just past the finish line, a rider whom I’d apparently managed to motivate to perform better thanks me. Lovely!
Then another example of what I find most wonderful about the TOUR Transalp – something no one-day race can offer: getting to know the other riders. Up ahead are two women who have also completed the 3-Day Challenge. I’d spotted them on and off over the past few days and exchanged a few words – but it’s only now that we’re really getting into a proper conversation. We cycle the last ten kilometres to the finish line together. One of them lives in Munich. We agree to go for a ride together sometime; perhaps I can even cycle back home from Lienz with her.
Home together
The shuttle bus back to Lienz had to be booked in advance. My plan was to cycle to Bolzano and take the train home from there. But plans change. I quickly check whether there’s still a seat for me and my bike. There is.
Countless bends later, feeling a bit queasy, we’re back at the starting point. On the bus, I sat next to Meike – we chatted the whole way. From Lienz, I’m travelling on with Jacqueline towards Munich. Travelling there alone, travelling home together. There’s hardly a more apt way to sum up this challenge. On the TOUR Transalp, strangers on the train have become people you’re happy to see again. A casual “hello” leads to brief conversations, which turn into longer ones the next day. Perhaps even friendships.
I made it over the mountains without any trouble. My legs are tired, but my mind is once again aware of what my body is capable of, and I’ve taken in so many impressions that I’ll need to process them all first. To mark the occasion, I treated myself to a massage. It’s time to head back home, back to my desk, with mixed feelings. I’m happy because I’ve done it. I’m sad because I know my body could have carried on – and because I would have loved to get to know the people there even better.
For those looking for a bit of a thrill, there might not have been quite enough. For me, it was just right.
Sandra Schuberth
Editor
