The decision we had to make over a lunch of pizza and beer was: how do we get to the top of Tre Cime (“Three Pigs”)? Tre Cime is famous for its top-of-the-world views, mountain climbing, hiking and, of course, difficult cycling climb. Cadel Evan’s hopes for winning the 2013 Giro died here in May when his legs failed him and Nibali went on to win Stage 20 in a driving snowstorm. Just 7 km in length, the final 4 km average 13% and include sustained grades of 16%.

By comparison, Brasstown Bald is about the same 4 km in length and averages 11% according to climbbybike. (Tre Cime does not have Brasstown’s “Wall”, which is about 200m long and averages 18%).

Mike insisted we had to get to the top to “see it, experience it.” We could load the bikes on the vans and drive up or we could climb it. Once at the top, he recommended we be prepared for a mile hike to a refugio and to watch the mountain climbers.

I ordered a “Tre Cime” pizza, downed a beer and thought it over. The group sentiment was, “We’ve already climbed 6,000 ft. Is this really necessary???” First one guy said, “I’m going to give it a try”, then another offered to follow. It was my birthday, and emboldened by the beer, I decided a memory, however painful, would make the day special. This would be a party!

 

 

 

By now, any slope of 6% or less felt like a doggie paddle. By contrast, the idea of cadence had lost all meaning on the frequent double-digit slopes. We left the lake and immediately turned on the road up Tre Cime. The first 3 km were a mix of steep and easy until we came through the national park gates and hit km 4. Momentum stopped. I felt like an inchworm, arching my back, forcing my way up the asphalt one slow pedal turn at a time. There was no big goal–just think of the next inch, turn it into a foot, make it a meter. Markham powered on ahead of me, Bill, Jim and Reb followed a ways behind. Most of the time was out-of-the-saddle, and my front wheel would come up off the ground on the steepest parts if I were sitting down. There wasn’t enough time between breaths to drink anything.

But everything has it’s end, and eventually I climbed above the trees and could see the summit restaurant several switchbacks above. That’s when the Andiamo van, bearing a few of my fellow riders, drove slowly past and a voice asked soothingly, “Jack, you want a ride in the van?” Beelzebub himself! “NO!! I CAN SEE THE TOP!!”

A final 18% ramp delivered me to the parking lot. Howie, Rick and Chris had arrived earlier (given an earlier start). As I struggled to stay upright dismounting from my bike, one of them observed, “Piece of cake compared to the Zoncolan!” Any piece of cake was good enough for this inchworm’s birthday! And since the candle was already blown out, I walked over to the edge of the world with my buddies for a photo.

Soon Reb and Jim also arrived, having stayed on their bikes all the way to the top. We hung out at the top for an hour, hiked toward the refugio and watched rock climbers and trekkers high overhead on rock massifs. At 4 PM, we knew it was time to head back to Cortina, where we arrived a couple hours later. Our day’s work totaled 54 miles and 9,000 ft. vertical, numbers that, while satisfying, didn’t seem to capture the full effort.