Its Friday 12th of September - Stelvio day and we are at Zone near Lake Iseo in northern Italy. I take a nervous peek out of the curtains and am delighted to find my fears are groundless; the sky is clear blue and shafts of sunlight are streaking down into the valley from the mountain ridges. "What's it look like?" asks Jane , still tucked up warm in bed. "Great" I reply "the Italian air force weather report looks like it was right!"
I grab a quick shower and leave Jane to get up and attack the
packing to take my usual wander down to the car park to give the
car its morning check. The car park is now full of Elises plus
the odd brave singleton Noble and MR2 who have come along to see
what Stelvio is all about. The six cars who set off from the Channel
two weeks ago are now in company with the Dutch and Belgian contingent,
who joined us last night, a couple of French and German cars,
and a few Italians who we have found waiting for us at the roadside
during the last two days running north from Rome.
It is only 07:15 and I'm the first
one down. Last night was a great evening with a real mix of nationalities
around the table. The air was full of stories of how we had all
made it so far and of what tomorrow might bring. Cars were still
arriving as the meal staggered to a noisy end and one by one we
drifted off to a late bed in hope of some sleep before the big
day.
There is a nip in the air but the bright sun and sky promise better
things as I go through the usual morning routine of checking oil
and water and giving the car a general once over for loose undertray
bolts and the like. One by one, other crews emerge into the sunshine
clutching bags and cameras and everyone is quieter than usual.
It is often like this on Stelvio day, a sort of suppressed excitement.
Some of us have driven nearly 4000 miles to get here and others
have never been to Stelvio before so there is a heady cocktail
of anticipation and apprehension around the breakfast table.
Our hotel lies at the head of a valley, reached by a series of
narrow village streets. We know lots more Italian cars from Milan
and Pisa are going to join us at the hotel soon, so rather than
get caught in a the inevitable traffic jam we set off a few minutes
early and pass the inbound cars just below the village where the
roads are thankfully wide enough to let two cars pass with comfort.
No sooner have we reached the lakeside and turned northwards towards
Stelvio then the phone rings and we are told that the Passo di
Gavia is closed but we lose the connection before we can ask any
more so Jane is immediately on the phone to Luciano who is on
his way from Lecco to find out if the news is true.
We refuel and are caught by some of the Italians and head on north
to Edolo where we know there is a roadside sign giving advance
warning if the Gavia is closed.
Conflicting news of the status of the pass comes in via the mobile
but when we reach Edolo the sign says "open" so we punch
the air and push on hard to Ponte de Legno. Our hopes are high
and the roads now have less traffic so the pace ratchets up a
notch and we arrive at the Gavia turning at some speed to find
a crowd of roadmen who tell us that the eastern side of the pass
is indeed closed.
We make a U turn and head back for the foot of the Passo di Mortirolo
signalling to a seemingly, never ending, stream of Lotus cars
that they must turn around. We find our turning with little difficulty
and climb the Mortirolo which is narrow, twisty and bumpy. Jane
and I talk of the effect that this diversion will have on our
plans to meet up with Rob Clark and the SELOC crew at the top
of the Gavia and decide that if the pass is closed that they will
most probably head straight for Stelvio.
The Mortirolo is my type of pass, rough and twisty, and with the
exception of Chris King who shares my tastes we become separated
from the rest of the crowd and plunge on down the far side on
the road we have used in 2000 and 2002. When we get to the bottom
we park up and wait for the rest to arrive but only a handful
turn up. It becomes clear from a phone call that there is another,
much quicker, way down and that almost everyone is now ahead of
us on the road to Bormio.
We climb back into the cars and make for Bormio at speed, then,
we push on to the foot of Stelvio. Inevitably the pace increases
and about five hairpins in we meet an Elise coming down the pass.
Both cars are taking perhaps a little more road than is wise on
the apex which gives us a wake up call as we push on up the pass.
The clouds are sitting low on the mountain tops for the first
time since we came here first in 1999 and it is starting to feel
quite cold. We take it easy through the avalanche tunnels then
push on fast up the pass and catch a group of cars on the main
series of hairpins. A few of our companions from the last fifteen
days are finding it difficult to get past a silver S2, but the
advantage of driving a well known yellow car with all its lights
ablaze seems to unlock the situation and we slice our way past
a number of cars with little trouble and arrive at Stelvio to
find ice crystals swirling in a bitter breeze and just a handful
of cars in the car park. We grab our jackets and fleeces but they
are not enough. It is arctic on the pass this year!
Cars continue to arrive in an increasing
stream and Jane and I wander about the car park in something of
a daze. It must be a combination of the thin air, the cold and
the occasion. People wander up and chat but our minds are only
half on the case.
In less than half an hour the car park is heaving and cars that
arrived first are block parked in. Luciano arrives in his 4x4
sporting a broken leg in a frame courtesy of a motorbike crash.
His car arrives looking mean in true Lotus 49 colours and a rear
aerofoil, driven by a friend.
Maarten Van Sten's father and brother were some of the first to
arrive but the cold weather has compromised all our plans for
an outdoor tribute so we head indoors for the obligatory Stelvio
meal. Everyone grabs a table but I have to shoo them all out again
so that Luciano can make sure everyone pays for their lunch at
the door.
The meal is, as ever, long and loud as old friends meet again
and people swap tall stories of their adventures on the way to
the pass. People gaze out at the ever changing weather and more
and more cars arrive. I propose a toast to the memory of Maarten
and everyone suddenly looks sombre and shift uneasily in their
seats then I propose a further toast to Stelvio and Lotus and
the chatter resurges. I hope Maarten would have approved.
All too soon it is time to leave, and everyone is saying goodbye.
Cars shuffle back and forth in an effort to escape the car park
mayhem, then one by one howl off down one side or other of the
pass heading for Obergurgle or St Moritz depending on their group's
plans. Others just head home for Switzerland, Austria, Germany
or Italy in ones and twos.
Suddenly the car park is almost empty and we take a last glance
around. The air is still full of ice crystals but now the place
seems terribly empty. We remove the shower capes and shake off
the snow then for a spit second consider the option of putting
the roof up ……….. not on your life! This is Stelvio
after all!
Tony C.