After a good night's sleep, the images and experiences from my first Transalp 20 years ago through my head. In 2002 it was still a real adventure! That was the first time I saw the Alps in real life. And as befits a real adventure, we wanted to experience our first Transalp up close and without "filters".
That's why my mate Holger and I naturally decided to spend the night in a dormitory at that time. With insulated mats and sleeping bags, we snored along with hundreds of other participants in gyms, schools and other large halls and rooms with animal-like body odours. After the official wake-up call at 5.30 a.m., the challenge for the toilets and, above all, the toilet paper began!
Grandiosely, Holger had already had the brainwave at home to take two rolls with him - just in case. And that was worth its weight in gold! Just like in the Corona era, there was already a run on toilet paper back then. Even back then, special times called for special measures! After the "business", the battle for breakfast began, as this also had to be shared with hundreds of other hungry pedallers. Yes, that's how it was.
Twenty years later, I praise my own bed and loo and the breakfast buffet in the accommodation! It's hard to imagine how we were able to do this for eight days (yes, you read that right, in 2002 it was eight stages!)! In view of this, one is almost inclined to describe us as wimps.
A hint of slipstream and first doubts
Were the tracks tougher and more challenging back then? I can't remember that exactly, but such a stage as today certainly didn't exist. Although it would have been easy to ride with the bikes of the time, considering the condition of the trails. On today's 93 kilometres, trails were just as rare as descents. Right from the start, the route led steadily and gently uphill, without any major relief phases, always with traction on the chain - a feeling as if the brakes were constantly dragging.
At first, Torsten and I were able to benefit from the hint of a slipstream in a larger group. However, my legs were burning like fire and the lactate began to gradually bring my muscle fibres to their knees like a paralysing poison. Finally, my head was no longer playing along and doubts arose as to whether and how I would survive today's stage.
So I hauled myself from waypoint to waypoint and tried to keep Torsten's rear wheel. Today, he put in a tremendous performance on the tarmac and gravel roads and, as the race progressed, he kept me in his slipstream and kept me close to smaller groups, unimpressed. What an animal!
Climbing orgy culminates in the Passo Rolle
Today's uphill orgy finally culminated in the Passo Rolle, which we still had to conquer at the end. After a few kilometres in the shady forest, the path spit us out onto glistening bright rock in front of a rugged mountain backdrop, from where the path meandered up to the pass.
Serpentine after serpentine and with a stoic stride, I trudged up the last few kilometres. Whereas before, individual words or groups of words between Torsten and me were used to communicate, now all we could hear was the crunching of the stones under our tyres.
Then finally: done! From the Segantini hut at an altitude of 2174 metres, the route now took us over the Passo Rolle, 200 metres below, downhill only on wide gravel paths, roads and a short trail to the finish. Just in time before the heavens opened their floodgates and a violent thunderstorm with grape-sized hailstones rained down on the village. Fortunately, we were spared this on the way!
