The Graveyard of Champions

Nowhere to hide on the Passo Fedaia

By EAT MORE LARD

July 8^th, 2025

It’s no secret that I love a climb, the ebb and flow of the battle against gravity. It’s different to fighting the wind, the invisible enemy. You can see and feel the change in gradient and the relative effort required. There’s no place to hide, to soft pedal, but there is almost always a distraction. It might be a view, a switchback or the swaying trees. Some climbs allow a rhythm. Some absolutely do not with constant changes. I particularly love the almost zen like partnership with the mountain, that feeling of responding to the rhythm of every metre and earning the elevation gain. Some climbs, like the Passo Stelvio, demand that you are distracted by the spectacle that surrounds you and somehow you seem to be at the top of the climb, without any associated "kilometres to go" thoughts. Almost every time you will be humbled by the mountain. Ironically it’s why we keep coming back.

The Fedaia is none of these and yet it is all of these at the same time. The graveyard of champions. The graveyard of everyone. On paper, it doesn’t stand out. But then, any climb, any ride, is do-able on paper. If you look closer at the profile of the climb, you will start to get a few insights into what is to come. It’s a 13 km climb averaging a little under 8%. That’s standard fare for the Dolomites. It’s the last 6 kms at an average of almost 12% that might ring an alarm bell or two. It should.

The start of the climb is suspiciously gentle, a pleasant roll up the valley and past the lake as you pull away from Caprile. The road surface is excellent and there's not much traffic. Life is good and so are the legs. Some testy ramps start to appear around the Serrai di Sottoguda but, really, it's all just a little antipasti for what is waiting for you after you cross the bridge over the gorge and pass through the tunnel.

As you leave Malga Ciapela at 6km to go, the climb puts on its serious pants.

Boom!

What numbers won’t prepare you for is that the first 3 kms of those last 6 kms is almost dead straight. You are violently confronted with a relentless wall well into double digit gradient. There’s no comfort to be found at this gradient, just struggle. The horror show played out in front of you demands that you barely look beyond your front wheel. Occasionally you might glance back, vainly searching for that mythical extra cog (that one that you had forgotten about, right?) in order to ease the pain. Right now, that guy in the green Lambo looks like he is having way more fun.

Minute by minute, second by second, those 3 kms will come to an end. You might not believe it at the time. It will feel like the longest 3 kms of your life. Stop at the rifugio (it was closed but maybe when you get there, it will be open for a much needed coffee?), catch your breath, steel yourself for the push to the summit. Oddly, although it gets steeper (15%, even 18% ramps), it feels easier. The physiological relief of the switchbacks allow micro-moments of respite. You might even manage a cheery grimace to a descending cyclist on the final slopes as the summit final grinds into view.

Step off at the top. It will be cold, the wind blowing off the glacier of the Marmolada and across the exposed landscape of the man made lake. Give yourself a hug because the chances are you will be on your own up there - this isn't the Stelvio, after all. Layer up for the reward, a majestic descent to Canazei.

Of course, you won’t remember the descent, only those last 6 kms of the Fedaia. The graveyard of champions indeed. Next time bring a Lambo. Maybe, even a green one.

Footnotes

Photo credit to the Calverts and Rigs. Thanks to ClimbFinder for the profile. This is a companion piece to https://eatmorelard.exposure.co/tutti-dolomiti that covers my whole 2 weeks in the Dolomites.