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Our last day of driving in Italy!
This means we’ve completed the TET not only from east to west, but also from south to north. But we’re not quite there yet. After that, we’ll have to figure out how to spend the remaining days in France and whether we might need to get the tires changed. There’s already a trusted repair shop in Bardonecchia for that—see link.
But we’re not at Colle del Sommeiller yet. So off we go—early this time.
The breakfast promised on Booking.com actually consisted only of instant cookies and yogurt. While this gave us some flexibility with our schedule, the breakfast was still a bit meager.
Of course, we had no way of knowing at the time that this might come back to haunt us.
Since we were right around the corner from the Assietta, we reached the top of the mountain relatively quickly and headed toward the entrance. Even from a distance, we noticed a lot of red and a barrier at the entrance.
The Assietta was blocked off. Supposedly because construction works…
In any case, these seemingly endless Italian litanies—which feel like they’re on 200 extra sheets of paper next to a no-entry sign—don’t really help clarify things. 😉
Should we give it a try anyway? Yeah. Maybe we’ll manage to get past it.
So we drive about eight kilometers along the road from east to west until we come across a strategically parked excavator that makes it impossible for us to get around it.
OK. So back we go, and as an alternative, we’ll take the Colle delle Finestre.
This one is also gravel-covered, but so early in the season it’s covered with very fine grit on a rather hard surface. It feels like black ice, even on our enduro bikes.
Further along, the road turns to asphalt, but remains interesting due to the tight, stacked hairpin turns. And so we return to civilization near Susa.
At least it’s a good opportunity to fill up on gas before continuing on to Oulx. There, we load our luggage into the van—a decision that, as it would later turn out, was both wise and foolish—and otherwise head straight on toward Colle del Sommeiller.
The route passes Bardonecchia and heads down into the valley toward the pass access road. Roadwork forces us through the charming village of Rochemolles, whose narrow streets are extremely narrow and steep at the same time.
After that, the road climbs higher and higher, bit by bit, without any major incidents. The road is gravel, but easy to drive on. It finally ends at about 2,900 meters in front of a vast snowfield.
EWe can still swerve to the side a little bit, but then that’s really it.
That was to be expected this early in the year. And actually, the fact that we made it up to this altitude at all speaks to the low amount of precipitation.
Since that went so well, we decide on the way back to tackle the Jafferau as well.
That means: climbing up via the ski slope and then descending via the flatter route down to Salbertrand.
There were a few things we should have considered, though:
- The knobby tires on our motorcycles are now just a shadow of their original tread.
- Our motorcycles aren’t hard-enduro bikes and are therefore significantly heavier.
- The ski slope faces west, so it’s on the windward side and gets less sun. That usually means more lingering snow—and because it’s a ski slope, the snow lasts longer due to grooming, since it’s more compact.
- The Austrian Pinzgauer drivers we met at the entrance to the slope just looked at us with pity. 😉
But we were so caught up in the excitement of the final that none of that really crossed our minds—or maybe we just didn’t want to acknowledge it.
The next warning sign came in the form of an unexpectedly large number of large enduro bikes of various classes coming toward us on the lower section.
We interpreted that as, “Hooray, the trail is clear!” and not as, “Ah, OK—they’re coming back.”
So we chugged up the mountain until we reached a dip with a snowfield about ten meters long that was blocking the path. A few large enduro bikes were already parked in front of it, their riders wondering what to do.
However, there was a relatively flat, soggy path through the slush.
I took the path with some momentum and made it through without any major problems.
So, of course, there was no reason not to keep going.
As expected—since it was a ski slope—the trail became steeper and rockier.
At the next snowfield, there was only a detour to the side, which could be skied with momentum at least halfway across. For the rest of the way, we had to push and work our way up. The loose snow, combined with the steep slope, simply couldn’t be conquered without momentum.
The thin air was starting to take its toll, so we stopped briefly to catch our breath.
Now we were also starting to feel the effects of our light breakfast. And since we hadn’t really eaten anything else all day, it slowly dawned on us: A little sugar would have been fantastic right now.
The emergency rations were in our luggage, though. And our luggage was—mostly—in the van.
But oh well.
The trail looked somewhat passable again, so we kept going.
Until we came to a snow slab—maybe six or seven meters long—that was blocking the path once more.
This time, the trail wasn’t flat—it went uphill, which unfortunately isn’t really visible in the photo.
No slush, just snow and ice. And us—just us.
Es war steil, auch wenn es hier nicht so aussieht :-/
For the next hour and a half to two hours, we were busy getting the motorcycles across that stretch.
Junior’s motorcycle went along fairly quickly. Mine, however—because it was a bit heavier and because we were getting more tired by then—but possibly also because of the TKC80²’s unsuitable/fatiguing tread pattern—took forever and pushed us both to the brink of exhaustion.
At some point, we finally got my motorcycle to the point where even the rear wheel was out of the snow.
And that’s exactly when the battery died. Or, as it turned out later, the starter relay.
All that repeated trying to start it on the snowfield had taken its toll.
So even the jumper cables we’d brought along didn’t help.
Though it was a challenge in itself to position the other enduro bike so that it could even jump-start us.
But the two of us didn’t have the strength left to hoist my KTM up that steep path so we could roll it downhill.
Our saviors were three Bavarians on leaner Kawasaki enduro bikes who were heading downhill.
They helped us push my KTM up to the next hairpin turn. There, with the fuse for the headlight pulled, I was able to roll it downhill, and thank goodness, the engine started right up.
And after that, she wasn’t turned off again.
That cleared that hurdle, but according to the information from the Bavarians, two more snowfields were still ahead of us. These were located on the descent toward Salbertrand, which they could bypass by going uphill.
Her skeptical look at our machines, however, spoke volumes. Never mind.
We were here now, and according to her, the rest of the route to Forte Jafferau was clear.
So we continued on the rest of the way without any problems—and pretty much on our own—enjoying the view and briefly considering which descent route to take.
I was in favor of the descent to Salbertrand, which I was already mostly familiar with. It was flatter, and we could decide how to proceed once we reached the first snowfield. You could already see the first snowfield from the fort.
After about three kilometers of downhill driving, the moment had finally arrived.
The snowfield came into view. And we confidently drove around it, passing through the marshy terrain below.
For me, though, there was always that thought in the back of my mind: If I stall the engine now, that’s it.
After that, we continued on to the second and final snowfield, which I already knew from my last visit after the WIMA Rally in France.
It was lying there practically exactly as it had back then and offered the exact same alternative detour—but this time, however in opposite direction.
Last time, I had refused to ride that section. At the time, the thought of trying it alone had seemed too crazy to me.
And now I was standing there again. Junior drove up, and I was in “watch and learn” mode. 😉
He managed it with ease: both going downhill, using all the brakes, and taking a running start through the swamp below the snowfield. He had enough momentum and traction for the subsequent uphill climb.
Well, then.
With the engine idling—because it absolutely couldn’t stall—and with all the brakes engaged, I slid down the winding path.
And then, with a bold push of the gas and a “close your eyes and go for it” attitude, back up again.
We both breathed a huge sigh of relief. Because from that point on, it was clear: we had the road to ourselves.
Next came the curved tunnel before Forte Pramand, which is very dark even with the lights on. This time, Junior had to light the way for me; my fuse was still blown because I’d been (pointlessly) charging the battery…
Once we were back on relatively solid ground, Junior’s asthma flared up and we had to make a proper stop so he could catch his breath.
The drop in adrenaline and/or low blood sugar had probably triggered it.
At the next supermarket, we made the much-needed stop to replenish our energy reserves.
This time, we picked up sugar-laden sodas and small granola bars so we could both get some energy back. And my engine was running the whole time.
On Juniors’ KTM, however, it became clear as we continued on the asphalt that the clutch plates had suffered massive damage from the steep sections and the resulting riding with the clutch slipping.
So we dragged ourselves back to Oulx.
Now there were three vehicles there, all of which had some kind of defect.
Since the van was our backup in case of a motorcycle breakdown, and the motorcycles were in turn our backup in case of a problem with the van, a crisis meeting was now in order…
We had plenty of tools with us.
So maybe we could combine two motorcycles into one and use it to haul spare parts from Gap or Turin?
Were those parts even in stock there? No—a quick phone call brought us to that bitter realization.
And wouldn’t we just be wasting time waiting for spare parts…
The discussions dragged on. The final decision: We’d go out for pizza and sleep on it.
The next day, we made our decision…
Once the fuse was pulled, there was no longer any route recording either :-/
