Day 6

Buongiorno,

When Koro was thirteen years old, he went to Whakatane High School. (Thank you, Miss Abigail, keep your comments to yourself, it has not been fifty years since Koro was thirteen years old.)

One lunchtime, while reading in the school library, Koro’s friend, Doug, was reading a car magazine. Koro had always loved cars, but this was the first time he had ever seen a car magazine. It opened up a whole new world of information about these wonderful machines. After school that afternoon Koro walked down to Armstrong’s bookshop and bought a copy of the May 1983 issue of Wheels magazine. He still has that magazine, along with every issue since. You’ve seen them stacked on our bookshelves in the office.

Wheels magazine was full of detailed specifications for every new model of car. There were reviews of updated models, and comparisons to find the best model in a specific market segment. But Koro’s favourite stories were always the ones that described a special journey and the adventures along the way. There seemed to be something magical about the notion of getting in a car and letting it take you to somewhere you’ve never been.

Koro can’t remember when he first read about the Stelvio Pass, but it was in one of the stories in Wheels magazine. Gradually, over the years, the stories built up a picture of the Stelvio Pass being the ultimate driving road. The Stelvio Pass was the perfect piece of road to test your ability as a driver and test the ability of your car.

Linking Switzerland and Italy, high in the European alps, the road is only open in the summer months. The road climbs 2000 metres in altitude in a distance of 25km. At it’s highest point it is 2,757 metres above sea level. On the Italian side there are 48 hairpin bends. The scenery is breath taking. Clinging to the side of a mountain, if you drive over the edge, it will be a very long time before you stop. And it will hurt.

Our day began in Innsbruck, Austria, and our search for breakfast. TripAdvisor recommended a café in the Old Town. The Breakfast Club was a great little café with good food, and very friendly and attentive service. The service was so good, Koro did not want to leave in a hurry. But, we had a schedule to keep.

The first part of the drive from Innsbruck to the Swiss border was pretty uneventful. A well made autobahn (speed limit 120km/h) and mile after mile of spectacular mountain scenery. We did stop briefly to look at this tower sitting in the middle of a lake.

This is a man made lake, and the tower is the steeple of a submerged 14th-century church; when the water freezes, this can be reached on foot. A legend says that during winter one can still hear church bells ring.

There must have been a Porsche club day event, as the car park was filled with Porsches of various ages, and trophy wives requiring varying levels of maintenance.

It was a very small corner of Switzerland that we had to cross. We

were pretty much right at the point where the three countries of Austria, Switzerland and Italy meet. We had to crawl through the very narrow streets of some very old villages. Then there was an ordinary left hand turn, into a narrow lane between two buildings, and suddenly we were climbing our way to the Stelvio Pass.

The Swiss side is very narrow, often not quite wide enough for two cars to pass. And no guard rails in places to stop you from driving off the side. The hairpin bends were very sharp.

At times we looked back down, and the cars below us looked like a little trail of ants crawling up the hillside. At times we had to stop and reverse back to a wider part of the road to allow a car coming the other way to pass. At times Grandma held her breath.

We reached the top and stopped to eat our sandwiches in a car park. It was very quiet in this car park. Then we drove up the road about fifty metres, and it was bedlam. We could see why.

The view is stunning, the scenery spectacular, the terrain unforgiving. And weaving through it is a beautifully shaped ribbon of bitumen that beckons to anyone who loves the experience of driving. Or cycling.

Everywhere we looked were crazy fools who had managed to get themselves and their machinery to the top of the pass. Some had ridden their bicycles. Some had ridden a powerful motorcycle. Some had ridden their Vesper. Some had driven a vintage car, or a rental car, or a Jeep, or a Porsche 911GT3.

What we all shared was a belief in the legend of the Stelvio, a belief that draws you to the Stelvio in the way that Mecca or Saint Peters beckons to the faithful. And, for a split second, as you perfectly

execute a down change and exactly hit the apex of yet another hairpin bend, you can imagine that you really are Stirling Moss driving the Mille Miglia, or Valentino Rossi winning the Moto G.P., or Lance Armstrong storming the Pyrenees.

The days of taking an over powered sports car and thrashing it up and down the pass seem to be gone. There is just too much traffic. Even buses. As you can see in the photos, there is snow up in the mountains year round, and we saw people who had come up to Stelvio to do some summer skiing.

There was a small clique of souvenir shops selling T Shirts and other memorabilia. Koro wanted a blue Stelvio T Shirt to show that he’d been here. We met a lovely old Nona who lives in a village at the bottom of the Italian side. Every day she drives up the road (the Stelvio Pass) in her ancient Fiat to get to work. I wonder if Nona gets as bored with her commute as we do driving from Cambridge to Te Rapa each day? I wonder how many of the peacocks strutting the carpark could drive the Stelvio as well as she could with her years of experience?

We think this might be the highest altitude we have ever been. Walking up to this little church, we both started feeling a bit funny. Sort of very slightly dizzy, sort of very slightly light headed. Once we had stopped for a few moments it went away. Then we did another short climb and it came back. We were just walking fast uphill. Can you imagine what it must be like for the cyclists at this altitude?

The scenery is stunning. Words can’t describe it, just look at the photos. The collection of machinery was also just as stunning. Surprisingly, we didn’t see a Prius at the top of the Stelvio. The Prii must all be busy delivering hard working sales reps to their calls.

New Zealand has some outstanding driving roads; the Lost Forgotten Highway from Stratford to Whangamomona and on to Taumarunui is one of the best known. The drive from Opotiki to Gisborne via East Cape has scenery you will see no where else in the world, and people you will meet no where else in the world. The drive through the Waioeka Gorge from Gisborne back to Opotiki is just as stunning. These roads have little traffic, so you can really push hard.

We couldn’t push hard on the Stelvio. The amount of other traffic, particularly cyclists, meant speed is kept in check. And a Grandma who was convinced we were going to plummet over the edge on a couple of occasions. The Clio, being a petrol turbo, has a decent amount of torque, but it only has rear drum brakes, which were really starting to get smelly towards the bottom of the pass. Typical French cost cutting to not have disc brakes all round!

Was it worth the trip? Did it live up to expectations. Yeah, it did. OK, we weren’t driving an Aston Martin DB5 (although Koro did have Grandma by his side, every bit as sexy as Honor Blackman). But even at moderate speeds, and particularly with lots of traffic, the Stelvio demands skill from the driver. Even at low speeds, it is very easy to turn wide and wander into the path of on coming traffic. Keeping to your side of the road at all times requires skill. We had to wait once or twice for another driver to stop, reverse, and have another bite at a hairpin. He’d mis-judged his line and wasn’t going to get around the corner without hitting the wall. Yeah, the Stelvio is worth it.

Who else but the Italians would have the audacity to build a road over these mountains, rather than going around them? Decades later, who else but the Italians would have the audacity to tunnel through these mountains rather than go around?

We carried on driving. We are in Italy now, and staying in the northern city of Verona. We have heard a lot of great things from people who have been to Verona, so we thought we'd see it for ourselves.

We are staying in an Air BNB apartment. The apartment is large, but the kitchen is not up to Grandma’s level of cleanliness, and the neighborhood is, um, interesting.

We decided to walk to find ourselves some dinner, but all that was available nearby was a kind of pizzeria joint. It was nice enough, but we just had very basic hamburgers and lemonade. The walk back was in the dark through a pretty run down neighborhood. Luckily Grandma has Koro to keep her safe!

We are looking forward to seeing Verona’s Old Town tomorrow.

Love to you all,
Grandma and Koro and Stelvio Bee. XXX OOO.