5010 metres of altitude, 503 kilometres, 8 days, 4 countries, 2 girls on bikes, and 0 punctures – in numbers, this was my first bikepacking trip with the gravel bike. Numbers, however, don’t convey the adventure of the trip, which, in the end, also was my first transalp experience. I’ve been wanting to cross the Alps for a long time now, so I was uber-excited when my friend Lisa and I packed up our gravel bikes at the end of August and rode off from Murnau, Germany, to Bergamo, Italy. The résumé: cycling is just the best way to travel – and the cold beer just tastes ten times better after climbing 1000+ metres. Read on for our experience and some tips on what we packed, how to best plan your route and why you’d better test your outdoor gear before your trip.
The perfect packing list for your transalp
… doesn’t exist. There are just too many factors you have to consider: Am I cycling in summer or in spring? Alone or with someone else? Am I an adventurous soul, taking my tent and hoping to find a good spot for the night? Or do I prefer sleeping in Airbnbs or hotels? Am I hard-boiled or frostbitten?
The good thing is: you won’t run the risk of overpacking when going on a bikepacking trip, since packing space really is limited – and your bags will be full earlier than you’d like it. For me, all I needed for the trip fit into a 10 l “Arschrakete“ (saddle bag), a frame bag, and a small front roll. The camping mat and bathing slippers were riding on the Arschrakete, and the tent fit perfectly in between the handlebars. In fact, this trip was the first trip ever that I didn’t take back 50% of my clothes without even wearing it (please tell me you’re the same!), but really did use every single item I packed. On the other hand, I also didn’t really miss anything (although, with 8 degrees in the picturesque Engadin mountains, I wished I’d listened to my flatmate and packed a beanie …).
Route planning or: the perfect gravel-tarmac-balance
When it came to planning the route, my friend Lisa and I were on the same page: we were pretty clueless. Neither of us had done much of it or had any significant experience with Komoot, but we knew one thing: we wanted to head south, and we wanted to cross those Alps somehow – preferably climbing a pass that wouldn’t leave us completely wasted, swearing to never ever do this transalp thing again.
So we started off massacring google search, on the hunt for semi-difficult gravel routes to Italy. Both of us are rather of the lazy sort when it comes to route planning, and we were hoping to stumble across a route we could just follow. Well, we were too optimistic here I guess – our route just wasn’t out there yet.
Somehow, however, we did get infected by the planning fever in the course and once we’d defined our destination (Bergamo) and the stops in between (Bernina Pass, because it seemed to be doable for first-timers and looked beautiful; and Lake Como), route planning turned out to be quick and easy with Komoot. We then planned the daily stages according to distance, metres of altitude, and the spot for the night. Not that we had lots of experience climbing on the bike, but with a little bit of research, some test rides (at least for me) and gut feeling, we thought that 100km/1500m would be a good average.
Whether it was pure coincidence or good luck – we ended up planning a route that turned out to be pretty perfect: It was a great balance between lonely gravel roads and some road in between, which mostly didn’t have too much traffic. If you’re curious about the route, click on the stops to get to the route on Komoot.
Murnau – Imst – Scuol – Samedan – Bernina Pass – Colico – Lecco – Bergamo
The euphoria of hitting the road and bad Aperols
When, on an early August morning, I climbed into the saddle of my fully packed bike and headed off in the direction of Munich Main Station, I felt two sentiments coming over me: I felt incredibly euphoric about the upcoming trip – and then there was also this teeny-tiny question nagging in my head, wondering how I, the flatland girl from Munich, who had only done two tiny test rides in the “mountains” (and literally died on the first one), would ever be able to cross the Alps with all the baggage.
The nagging, however, disappeared as quickly as it had popped up and was completely forgotten when I stepped onto the train with Lisa. After all, the best adventures are those you go into a little bit naïve, right?
After arriving in Murnau, things were getting serious – and off we took, southbound, leaving the Bavarian realms behind, soon passing the first of many, many lakes.
Water soon also greeted us from above, and we were hit by heavy rain. At the Fernpass, right above Blindsee, we escaped into a small tavern, where we enthusiastically ordered the first of what we planned to become many more Aperols, hoping it would give us a little dolce vita feeling in this sad, rainy German mess outside.
Well, it was easily the most awful Spritz we’’ve ever tasted, and while I bravely sipped my glass empty (simply because I cannot bear to let drinks or food go to waste), Lisa gave up quickly. And because the Spritz was the second small damper after the heavy rain, and we were determined not to let any of it spoil our mood – and because plans are made to be thrown over again –, we decided to cancel camping for the night. The feeling of happiness we felt when lying in a warm bed in a small pension in Imst, after a hot shower and with pasta in the belly, was huge.
What’s up, Switzerland? Or: Why are we doing this again?
On our second day on the bike, we already had to catch up on the 25 km we didn’t ride to Landeck, but we didn’t let this fact stress us, because: that’s how it goes when you travel by bike. Also, the sun was back out, and we were headed to our next destination, Switzerland, with the incredibly turquoise Inn river leading the way.
That this odd country is not only really beautiful, but also very hilly is, of course, no surprise. And still, we faced our first challenges here, like the curvy climbs up to the charming village of Ftan. Luckily, Lisa and I turned out to be perfect cycling buddies since we were both in the same shape (and cursed at the same level).
After lots of cursing, we reached our spot for the night, a camping site in Scuol. Time to finally test the tent we bought super last-minute at Aldi! It quickly turned out that “tent“ was a big name for that kennel where Lisa and I just about fitted in. With our noses half a centimeter from the “tent“ walls, moving was impossible. Also, we really hadn’t expected that at night, temperature would drop to 8 degrees, and as if this wasn’t enough already, it was pouring. While I’m known for my capability of sleeping almost anywhere, Lisa didn’t sleep a wink, and in the middle of the night we decided to move into the small, warm cabin that belonged to the camp site (cheers to Swiss camp sites!), where we were finally able to catch some rest.
The summit of happiness at Bernina Pass or: drinking with the cows
The best thing about cycling uphill is, of course, the fact that you will eventually go down again. This is what kept us going, and when we finally reached the Ospizio Bernina (which sits beside the road shortly before the top of the pass), although we hadn’t made it up to the highest point yet, strictly speaking (but we could already almost see the pass sign in the distance), we were beyond hyped.
To celebrate our victory, we headed straight to the hotel bar for drinks to go, and went outside to hunt for a spot to enjoy our sundowner. So we trudged around the Lago Bianco, ignored by the stoically grazing cows, and although our search for a spot with a panoramic view turned out to be unsuccessful, the nature was still incredibly beautiful. The magic of this moment was so incredible, and my feeling of freedom and happiness so pure and unclouded like I hadn’t felt in a long time. Traveling by bike – if it always feels like this, I’m already hooked.
Ciao, Italia! (or: almost missing those goddamm mountains …)
The following day, we rolled across the pass (with a quick photo stop, of course), and then downhill, 1300 meters towards the Italian border (country number four already!). Roller coaster rides are nothing compared to the feeling of rolling down a hill you’ve climbed the other day, I’m telling ya. It’s the purest feeling of freedom you can imagine.
With a quick stop in the pretty town of Poschiavo in the Italian part of Switzerland, where we stumbled across a cute little market, we rolled on to say goodbye to hilly Switzerland and, finally: ciao, bella Italia! What we never would have imagined before, though, was that while we were riding the remaining 80 km to Lago di Como mostly on plain, boring cycling lanes, we almost wished for some Swiss mountains to show up.
We quickly realized that as big a fan as I am of going speedy on flat land, riding on plain roads without any bigger variation in the landscapes we were passing, and with a nasty headwind making us advance like snails, was even worse than fighting ascents. But the thought of our next destination, Lake Como, let us roll, roll, roll … and we were more than happy when we finally saw the blue of the lake in front of us – and our destination for the day, Colico, came into sight. Our minds were shouting “finalmente!” and our legs screaming “pizza!”
Rolling, rolling on the … lake
The craziest thing about bikepacking to me is that after a long day in the saddle, with heavy legs and a sore butt, the only thing you crave is getting an obscene amount of carbs into your body and then dipping off into a good night’s sleep.
And then, the next morning, you suddenly can’t wait to hop back into that damn saddle. Rolling southbound with the lake glistening to our right, Lisa and I alternated at marveling aloud at the beauty of what we were seeing. Honestly, isn’t it that the minute you soak up Italian air, you soak up happiness and the unique la dolce vita vibe?
For us, not even the sometimes heavily-frequented road were able to dampen our mood, and we arrived at the south-eastern tip of Lake Como, in Lecco.
Bergamo off the bike (or: butt missing saddle)
Bergamo! We did it. Four countries in eight days, and we actually crossed the Alps by bike, just like that. We couldn’t quite believe we really did it. In Bergamo, we left our bikes downstairs at the Airbnb and explored the city on foot – a strange feeling after having spent seven days in the saddle.
But luckily, the dazzling beauty of this Italian city nestled into the hilly Lombardian countryside made it easy to enjoy ourselves. Exploring the beautiful, hilly alleys and stopping here and there for a caffè or a Spritz, we couldn’t have chosen a better final destination for this epic first bikepacking trip.
It showed me what I already knew: Cycling is by far the best way to travel. Even though I’m a huge fan of traveling with a camper van, for short trips like these, nothing beats the bicycle.
Being in the saddle allows you to experience nature and the landscapes you’re passing through most directly. You reach places you can’t reach by car, traveling off the beaten path, and can stop at any place and time – and as many times as you like (which is useful if you have a friend like Lisa who screams “photo stop!” at every third corner). You’re outdoors, and you breathe fresh air all day. And, to top it all off, the nicest side effect is that you’re exercising at the same time. I mean, does pizza taste any better than after climbing a 2328 metre mountain pass? Oh, and I almost forgot the best part: With bikepacking, you don’t have to think about what to wear in the morning. You just slip into your cycling kit and off you go! And for any fancier evening activities, it’s one of the two shirts you brought – no big effort of putting on makeup, no outfit struggles in front of the mirror; this is all secondary.
Sometimes I catch myself thinking how easy life would be if it was always like that (note to self: need to finally declutter my wardrobe, but this time really!).
Anyways, bikepacking got me hooked. The train ride back home I spent googling the next mountain passes I want to do.