Cycling to the top of Slovenia
A must-do cycling adventure in the Julian Alps
When looking for a cycling adventure and more than just a bike ride, the options are endless while the preferences certainly vary. Some prefer the rolling hills, coastlines, or backcountry double-track. Others go rails-to-trails, bike packing, or century-ride hopping. For those inclined to seek out the epic climbs, the road to the Mt. Mangart, in the mountainous region of northwest Slovenia, should find its way to your list.
The highest paved road in Slovenia winds its way to the Mangart Saddle. Look south and you see the beautiful Log Koritnica Valley in Slovenia. Do a 180 and the extraordinary colors of the Lakes of Fusine glimmer from the north in Italy. Welcome to the Julian Alps, situated near the triple border between Italy, Slovenia, and Austria.
Originally built in 1938 over the course of six months, this narrow, one-lane road up Mt. Mangart served as part of the Italian Army’s defense against the Yugoslav Army. Now found on the map as Route 902, the umpteen switchbacks, hairpins, and five tunnels carved out of rock lead you to the deadend summit and the pinnacle of the climb. Lush and forested landscape precedes the approach to treeline and the rugged, exposed limestone reaches to the skies. It’s near to impossible to keep your eyes on the road, but for the effort needed to keep turning the pedals over.
Our small group of six cyclists started the day from our home base at the Valbruna Inn, the heartbeat of this exquisite little village nestled at the base of the mountains just south of Tarvisio and Mt. Lussari, and an easy two-hour drive north of Venice. We would ride 15 miles to the beginning of the Mangart ascent, including several miles along the buttery-smooth Alpe-Adria bike path and then a gradual climb up and over Predil Pass into Slovenia.
Having visited the region previously, I had often imagined what it would be like to climb this rocky massif separating the eastern and western Julian Alps. Growing up in the Colorado Rockies and cycling across mountain passes in the American West was my familiar, and nothing compares to the sensory overload of taking yourself out of your element to a completely unfamiliar and awe-inspiring environment like this.
In less than 12 kilometers (7-ish miles), the road ascends 980 meters (3,215 feet). With an average gradient around 7%, it was the pitches that reached 11-12%, 16-18% and 22-23% that let’s just say, mmm… got my attention. My mantra was “just keep pedaling.” For 90 minutes, I’d say I achieved some of the lowest RPMs I ever had on a bike. I relished in the short stretches of road that fell below a six percent grade and let me turn the cranks over a bit quicker, as they were few and far between.
As I rounded the final switchback to reach the summit of Mangart (said like we were now on a first name basis), I wasn’t sure if I was going to burst into tears, smile until it hurt because that’s what I do, scream (or swear) with joy and perhaps a little disbelief, or maybe a combination of them all. Yep—you got it—all of the above.
My best friend was waiting for me at the top with her notorious big bear hug and perhaps the sweetest surprise she could have handed over, a perfectly wrapped in periwinkle paper, bar of Milka chocolate—and my happy dance ensued.
Our crew of six rolled in one by one as we took in the magnificent views, rediscovered the feeling in our legs, and eventually turned our attention to the prospect of riding back down the beast we had just conquered—all part of the day’s cycling adventure.
Needless to say, down was significantly faster than up. There’s always that pesky little climb that comes after a long descent, which then feels like a bigger challenge than it truly is. But as we dropped back over into Italy and found our way to a little lake for a quick dip, I couldn’t care less about how many more ups versus downs we’d meet along the ride back.
We saddled up, hopped on, and rolled to Valbruna. I can’t say enough about the coziness, the cuisine, and the 5-heart hospitality offered in this special little corner of the world. Throughout the following week, our rides would take us into Austria to find bakeries, to the top of mountain refugios for delectable lunches, and point-to-point to return by train through the stunning Friuli-Venezia Giulia region of Italy. I look forward to sharing more stories from this place, in due time.
As the world opens up and we find ourselves willing and able to travel more again, I’ve included a couple of resources, which I couldn’t speak more highly of. Valbruna Travel offers small, custom cycling, skiing, and culinary adventures with experiences only made possible through their local ties to and deep knowledge of their hometown.
“It is the unknown around the corner that turns my wheels.”
