Preface #
Every great journey begins with a decision: to leave comfort behind, to embrace uncertainty, and to follow the road—gravel or otherwise—wherever it may lead. What started as a casual idea among friends turned into a multi-day gravel bike adventure through the heart of the Alps, from Munich to Lake Garda, crossing borders and weather systems.
This story isn’t just about kilometers ridden or mountains climbed. It’s about the small moments that make a trip unforgettable: a perfectly timed stretch of sun after hours of rain, a silent alpine road that feels like it belongs to you alone, and the shared silence of five riders rolling together through a landscape too beautiful for words.
We invite you to follow our journey—not just the high passes and sweeping descents, but the laughter, the sore legs, serious nutrition, and the warmth of a sauna after a long, wet day.
Day Zero - Prologue #
Shrouded behind a thick band of clouds, morning quietly arrived in a small suburb of Munich, marking the beginning of this year’s Transalp gravel biking adventure. In contrast to last year’s relatively easy ride, our group was now preparing for a significantly more demanding route. Rather than following the scenic Inn Valley and avoiding major climbs, we chose not to take the easy way out—this time, we would cross the Brenner Pass.
To add an extra layer of challenge, my riding partner Sven and I decided to kick things off with a prologue ride from Munich to Fell, where we would wait for the rest of the group, scheduled to arrive by car the following day.
Our team would be quite a mixed bunch: three strong riders, one steadily improving cyclist not currently at peak fitness, and a lady recovering from a long time off the bike, joining us with a very nice (stealth) electric Gravel bike.
We had already booked a hotel for the end of the day’s ride, but before we could relax in the sauna in Fell and meet the rest of the group at the official starting point, we had to cover 95 kilometers and around 600 meters of elevation gain. Not an overwhelming challenge under normal conditions—but with fully loaded bikes and rain closing in, it was clear the ride wouldn’t be easy. After finishing breakfast, we made a few final adjustments to our gravel bikes. At exactly 9 a.m., we rolled out—our Transalp journey had begun. The destination: the shores of Lake Garda in Italy.
There’s always something special about the beginning of a long-distance bike trip. As you hit “start” on the bike computer and watch the numbers slowly rise from zero, it dawns on you: everything you’ll need in the days ahead is packed on your bike. From that moment on, it’s all about the journey. Every meter counts. The roads at first seem familiar, slick with a thin layer of rainwater—but with every passing minute, the landscape grows more unfamiliar, and the adventure truly begins. As we rode south toward the Alps, the landscape gradually shifted—from mid-sized Bavarian towns to charming, picturesque villages. And whenever the fog lifted, even briefly, the majestic silhouette of the Alps already loomed ahead.
The route led us along rivers, through quiet forests, and at times along narrow, remote roads that seemed to cut through the middle of nowhere. A light, steady rain accompanied us—just enough to notice, but not enough to stop us. We chose to ignore it and kept pedaling toward our destination. By midday, however, the rain intensified. We found ourselves riding through a mix of rainfall, wind-driven mist, and spray kicked up from the road. Fortunately, our rain gear held up well, and the weather never became more than a minor inconvenience.
We passed through Bad Tölz, and since it was a weekday and the rain had grown heavier, the streets were eerily empty—the entire town felt deserted. Just as the thought crossed our minds that it looked like a post-apocalyptic scene, we encountered a lone man walking his dog on the edge of town. His presence reassured us that humanity hadn’t been quietly abducted by aliens while we were looking the other way.
Just a few kilometers after leaving Bad Tölz, the rain finally stopped. As we descended into a small valley, a sudden headwind picked up. What stood out most about this wind wasn’t its force, but its temperature—despite the ambient air hovering around 10°C with high humidity, the wind was noticeably warmer. On a bike, small comforts like this can make a big difference, especially when you’re damp from hours of rain. Within minutes, our clothes were dry and warm again.
Not long before reaching the next town on our route, Lenggries, we paused by a beautiful lake right beside the road. After a quick snack, we rolled into town for dinner. We chose a restaurant entirely at random—guided by absolutely no mapping apps or review sites whatsoever. Stepping inside felt like walking onto the set of a 1960s Bavarian film: wooden benches, a crackling fireplace at the center, hearty food, and a surprisingly refined selection of local beers.
Refreshed from the break, we continued on, passing a few more lakes before finally arriving in Fall. We took some time to explore the area and the striking Speichersee reservoir before rewarding ourselves with a sauna session—much needed after a long, wet day in the saddle.
It was time to call it a day. Tomorrow, we’d have the luxury of a slow morning and a long breakfast; the rest of our group was being driven in and would arrive in a town just an hour’s ride away.
Day 1 - Fall to Hall #
This was supposed to be an easy day. After a leisurely breakfast, we prepped our bikes and got ready to ride. Just before 10 a.m., the rest of our group arrived. Now five riders strong, we set off together, heading through the Karwendel mountains, across the Austrian border, and onward to the small town of Hall, near Innsbruck.
Barely 200 meters of asphalt passed beneath our wheels before the paved road ended, giving way to a long stretch of gravel winding through the forests of the Karwendel. The terrain was varied—fine and coarse gravel, steady climbs, fast descents, occasional hike-a-bike sections, and even a few flat stretches where we could ride side by side and chat. It was a fitting farewell to Germany.
About an hour later, we crossed into Austria and began riding through charming little towns that looked like they’d been lifted straight out of a historical drama—perfect backdrops for tales of royal intrigue and alpine romance.
For lunch, we indulged in a local classic: Leberkässemmel, Austria’s answer to fast food. Recharged, we continued our ride, passing a picturesque lake complete with a marina, restaurants, swimming pools, and sweeping views. With a bit more sun and warmth, it could easily have passed for Lake Garda—if only the weather had played along.
This day’s ride was a relatively short one—designed to position us perfectly for the following day’s climb over the Brenner Pass. After just 71 kilometers and around 600 meters of elevation gain, we reached our destination: Hall.
Thanks to our carefully chosen accommodations, we once again had access to a sauna—ideal for both conversation and recovery. But before that, as any serious cyclist would agree, we followed the standard post-ride protocol: ice cream. It worked wonders for morale and muscle recovery alike.
With that, it was time to call it a day—dinner, rest, and sleep. Tomorrow, things were about to get serious. The Brenner awaited.
Day 2: Hall - Brennero/Brenner - Bressanone #
Despite the heavy thunderstorms during the night, the morning was calm and still. The mountains surrounding the Inn Valley had shielded us from the worst of the storms rolling in from both the west and the east. Fortunately, the valley we were about to ride through was forecast to have near-perfect cycling weather—cold and cloudy, but dry, with a good chance of sunshine later in the day.
Our planned route for the day covered 100 kilometers with a total ascent of 1,600 meters. Leaving Hall behind, we followed hiking trails through forests and open fields. At one point, we passed a strawberry field—and of course, we absolutely did not pick any fresh berries. No, we definitely bought some from a nearby supermarket instead. Absolutely.
To our left, Innsbruck came into view. After climbing about 100 meters, the clouds began to lift. Although the temperature was still around 12°C, the sunshine gave the city (and us) a surprising touch of summer. We didn’t have much time to linger in the towns along the way—we were heading south with purpose. After a quick coffee stop near Matrei, we continued toward the final stretch: the ascent to the Brenner Pass. The massive Brenner motorway loomed to our right, while to the left, the landscape unfolded into classic alpine beauty.
After a long and steady climb, sometimes with a lot of automotive traffic, we finally reached the town of Brennero (or Brenner, depending on your side of the border). We had made it! Two of us arrived together, and about 45 minutes later, the last member of our group rolled in. We gathered at the Brenner Pass monument to celebrate. In our excitement, we almost overlooked one surprising detail—just as we crossed into Brenner, the weather shifted dramatically. Suddenly, it was 22°C. Italian summer had arrived and seems to carefully respect the italian border that goes straight through the village of Brenner.
We passed the Brenner monument and stopped just a few meters beyond the Italian border for our first pasta of the trip. And though it was one of the simplest dishes in Italian cuisine — Aglio, Olio e Peperoncino, it was absolutely delicious.
With a quick espresso stop to follow, we continued south toward Bressanone. And it wasn’t just the weather that changed. The cycling infrastructure transformed too. Where Austrian paths had often been gravel service roads or shared lanes with vehicles, Italy welcomed us with a fully-fledged, premium-class cycle path—smooth, well-maintained, and clearly designed with speed in mind. Descending from the Brenner Pass, we made quick work of the distance to Bressanone. A brief detour through a vineyard—thanks to construction on the cycle path—offered a scenic (and slightly bumpy) diversion before we reached town.
Our hotel for the night was perched on a hill just outside the center, so we tackled one final 150-meter climb before finally getting off the bikes and earning ourselves a richly deserved pizza.
Day 3: Bressanone to Trento #
Just after 6 a.m., the sun rose over the hills surrounding our hotel. Blue skies and a warm 22°C made it feel as though we had woken up in a different time zone—like arriving in southern Europe after a red-eye flight. The difference? We had simply cycled 200 kilometers to get here, and as far as I know, our saddle bags weren’t x-rayed anywhere. Today, our gear would finally match the summer weather: short jerseys and shorts, no rain jackets or layers.
We coasted downhill into Bressanone, merging smoothly onto a wide, well-paved cycle path. Soon, we were cruising alongside a river, heading directly toward Trento. Off to our right, the Brenner motorway was at a complete standstill—choked by a massive traffic jam caused by construction work back in Austria. Watching the unmoving line of cars gave us a sense of unease. In just two days, we’d be returning via bus on that very same route, with our arrival time as uncertain as a journey on the German rail system.
As we continued south into the open valley, we ran into a fierce headwind—an early preview of the famous Ora, the afternoon wind that sweeps through the Lake Garda area. We made several attempts at riding in a paceline, but with our mixed riding styles and paces, we eventually split into two groups and agreed to meet at the next coffee stop—roughly an hour away. That coffee stop turned out to be a properly Italian affair. What started with a round of espressos quickly turned into a table packed with snacks and gelato. We lingered in the sun, enjoying the calm atmosphere, and spent more than an hour relaxing before pushing on.
The final stretch into Trento brought more headwinds and some rough gravel detours around roadworks, but we eventually made it. Trento was an unexpected highlight: a sprawling old town, spotless and beautifully maintained, full of life, restaurants, and a welcoming mood. I have to admit—it was far more impressive than either Solingen or Aachen, the cities I call home in Germany.
We wrapped up the day with fantastic pizza at a local pizzeria that also brewed its own beer, followed by a short evening stroll, and then we called it a night. All of us had made it across the Brenner, each at our own pace. Only one serious ascent remained, and it was waiting for us just after breakfast tomorrow. Rather than taking the valley route, we had chosen the direct path to Lake Garda—meaning a westward climb from Trento, with a 900-meter ascent and gradients reaching up to 18%.
Day 4: Trento to Lake Garda #
Our hotel in Trento was one of the premium spots in town. Unfortunately, access to the spa came with an extra charge, and for just a single round of sauna, we decided it wasn’t worth it. After a solid breakfast, we followed the same routine as every morning: mount the bags, fill the bottles with fresh water, and get ready to ride.
We rolled through Trento’s historic city center and quickly found the road out of town. In almost no time, we reached the final “end boss” of our journey: the Monte Bondone climb to Vigolo Baselga, a route frequently featured in the Giro d’Italia - for a reason.
Once we reached the summit and waited for the last riders to arrive it hit us: we’d made it. No mechanicals, no injuries, no major issues. The hardest part was now behind us. From here, it would be descents, sunshine, and celebration.
We coasted downhill, soaking in the scenery. Before long, we arrived at Lago di Cavedine, where we stopped for espresso and pasta. The lake already felt like a teaser for Lake Garda—plenty of people, surfers, cyclists, and motorcyclists, and prices that were ever so slightly steeper. It was also the first place on the trip where we were charged a coperto, the classic Italian cover charge—another sign we were entering more touristy terrain. Still, despite the crowds, the atmosphere was relaxed and thoroughly summery. We lingered a while, soaking up the vacation vibes before continuing on toward our destination. Leaving places like that always feels a bit strange. The people around us were staying, settling in, unwinding. We, on the other hand, were just passing through—travelers on wheels with more road ahead. Any German boyscout will secretly remember the postcar song now, guaranteed.
As we continued south, the landscape shifted again. After a short climb, we found ourselves in a stark, rugged terrain—rocky, sparse, sun-bleached. It looked almost like Teide National Park in the Canary Islands. The colors deepened, the vegetation thinned, and then we reached the crest. From there, we had a panoramic view of the valley below, and just beyond it, a sliver of Lake Garda.
If cellphone photos generated heatmaps, which would be a great data science demo, this spot would’ve been bright red. It was a popular view—and for good reason. After some serious photograph and video work, we descended sharply into the final valley. Only 30 kilometers to go!
The route followed the Fiume Sarca River, with sections of dedicated bike paths, gravel interludes, and small, charming towns that seemed to appear out of nowhere. Finally, along a singletrack path, we reached the place where the Sarca flows into Lake Garda—our journey’s end.
We made it!
We rolled to the water’s edge, jumped off our bikes, peeled off shoes and jerseys, and ran straight into the lake. Whether or not that’s the traditional way to celebrate an arrival like this, it felt exactly right.
Four days ago, we had left Munich in the cold and rain, riding through 10°C and wet gear. Now, we were swimming in Lake Garda under blue skies and 25°C warmth, having crossed the Alps with nothing but bikes and determination. Time for some well-earned bonus kilometers—across town for drinks, ice cream, and a celebratory dinner.
Final thoughts #
Looking back, this Transalp trip wasn’t just a bike ride—it was a layered adventure through weather, terrain, and mindset. From the rainy suburbs of Munich to the sunlit shores of Lake Garda, we crossed borders, climbed mountains, and shared a thousand small moments that don’t show up on the map. We faced headwinds, post-apocalypse towns, detours through vineyards, and pasta stops that stretched longer than planned. We navigated gravel trails and espresso habits. We learned that the weather can change your mood—and that a warm tailwind can dry damp clothes and lift spirits in seconds.
What began as a bike trip turned into a quiet kind of triumph. Not because we broke records (we didn’t), or found ourselves (though maybe we did a little), but because we chose to go. We packed our bags, started pedaling, and kept going—even when the path wasn’t dry, flat, or easy.
And in the end, that’s the spirit of a good ride: you don’t just arrive somewhere new—you arrive changed. Welcome to the ride!