cycling the Passo Dello Stelvio, Italy

The Passo Dello Stelvio is a mountain pass located in the Dolomites in Italy. At 2,758 metres, it�s the highest mountain pass of any of the Grand Cycling Tours. Two weeks ago, it was supposed to have been one of the finishing stages of the 2013 Giro d�Italia, but the organisers had to switch location because the summit was still snowbound. Today the signs at the foot of the climb still warn that the other side remains closed from just over the summit. So, if I make the top, it�s a u-turn and back down the same way.
If I make the summit.
I�m ill-prepared for this climb, as this morning I�ve driven four hundred kilometres from Germany, after getting lost twice in the backblocks of Switzerland. This has scuttled my plans to hire a road bike, as all the shops are closed until 4pm for the Italian siesta. 
So, after a very quick lunch, I get Craig, my trusty old hybrid out of the car and start the climb. His chain still squeaks from getting drenched in Germany along the Danube and his tyres are not made for climbing. He also weighs too much. But, that could be me...
The first five kilometres of Stelvio is a regular gradient of 7% with pine trees on one side of the road and a view back to the town of Bormio on the other. Before I go through the first of many tunnels, I look above me to see a man climbing the cliffface. He�s shirtless and hangs from a hook with a thirty metre drop below him. 
�Some people are just plain crazy, hey Craig?�
Craig tells me not to speak to him until we reach the summit. He�s obviously not too happy about being given the job a carbon-fibre racing bike is designed to do. 
We struggle along together, both feeling creaky in various parts of our body, but enjoying the view of rushing waterfalls cascading over the cliffs. The tunnels and snow bridges (called galleries) of this section are long, single lane, and some have a turn at mid-point, just to make things interesting. Amazingly, one has a waterfall plunging down inside it. I have to stop to believe what I�m seeing. It�s like a chute of free-falling water between the cliff and the tunnel. I�m too scared to go close or else the force of the water will take my head off.
I finally reach a hairpin bend with a sign numbering it 36. Passo Dello Stelvio, famously, has 48 hairpins one one side and 40 on this side. Not every bend is numbered and, on this side, inexplicably the numbering starts at 36.
�Only 35 to go, Craig.�
I climb seven bends easily before reaching a cruel straight stretch of 9%. Above me is a road that resembles a serpent flattened against a mountain side. It twirls threateningly up the slope. To my left is the thunder of a waterfall fed by distant snowmelt. The only thing louder is my breathing. 
�26, 25, 24, 23, 22... this is getting easier, Craig.�
Silence. Perhaps he�s in awe of the many cyclists cruising past us on shiny Pinarello road bikes. The serpent maintains a consistent 7-8% gradient and I�m staggered by the view back down the road. It looks as though the road I�ve just climbed is precariously clinging to the mountainside, like a mighty mouse ride at the funfair. I stop to take a photo, looking at the result to confirm the weird optical illusion.

Back in the saddle, it�s more bends before the road levels out for a brief time, allowing me to choose whether to continue to the summit or turn left and descend to Switzerland. In the First World War, this pass was of strategic importance in the fighting between Austrian and Italian troops. 
I take a sharp right hand turn, away from Switzerland and climb towards a lovely stone arch which stands as the memorial to Italian soldiers killed here in the Great War. I hear a short squealing noise from my right and see a marmot sitting on a grass hill looking down at me. He�s like a cross between an overweight squirrel and a wombat. Further on up the road, two cars are stopped with everyone standing around looking at two marmots fighting near a gushing stream. At least, I think they�re fighting.
With seven kilometres to go, I�ve reached the final section of Stelvio, where snow is piled up beside the road, at an increasing height as I push on ahead. I�m now ringed by snow-covered mountains and from the highest peaks I can see ample evidence of minor avalanches. Craig�s chain starts to whine painfully, as if the chill is affecting his, or my, performance. At the start of the climb, my Garmin read 29 degrees Celsius. It�s now 10 degrees and dropping fast. 
Five kilometres to go. 
The snow glistens beautifully, like precious jewellery. I look at my watch. It�s six in the evening. I can see buildings high on the summit. They look much further away than just a few kilometres. The answer is simple. With three kilometres to go, the gradient increases to over 10%.
And then out of nowhere, a skier zooms past me on my right, perhaps three metres away. And another. I stop and watch them descend and shoot off left and out of sight. I can�t help grinning. Now that�s never happened to me before.

The views now are unbelievably  beautiful and majestic. I�m barely watching the road, my head turning left and right to take in the postcard perfect vistas. 
Finally, Craig and I reach the summit. A sign announcing Stelvio is scrawled with graffiti and three shops sell Passo Dello Stelvio and Fausto Coppi jerseys. I let Craig rest and walk around the near-deserted village. 
There's a bunch of cyclists who all passed me on the ascent. They have a support wagon and are eagerly waiting for the final members of their party to finish the climb. They hoot and clap when each person arrives. 
I treat myself to the most expensive soft-drink I�ve ever bought, before wandering a few metres down the other side to the road barrier. Below me snakes the hairpin bends to Prato, a mirror image of the bends I�ve just climbed. 

A snow plough pushes snow from the road surface. It tumbles over the barrier and lands on the road below. It may take him a while to clear the road, even though word is it may be open for the weekend.
I feel immensely privileged to have been able to climb Stelvio only a few days after it�s been opened. The Giro peloton of 2013, including Cadel Evans, didn�t have such luck.
Reluctantly, I hop back on Craig and begin the descent. I�ve never ridden down a mountain at seven in the evening before. I�ve put on leggings and a jacket, but the wind chill is fierce. 
But, I�m basking in the glow of having ridden one of the great mountain climbs of Europe, with my trusty red hybrid, Craig.

Passo Dello Stelvio is a 'hors category' climb of 21.5 kilometres with an average gradient of 7.1 %, maximum gradient of 14%. The elevation gain is 1533 metres. The summit is at 2,758 metres.