Because the weather would only improve around midday, I started with a slow breakfast at the hotel. And what a breakfast: several types of chocolate, fresh muffins, pancakes… all served in a beautiful dining room. The contrast with what was still to come could not have been bigger.
While I was sitting there, I could feel the tension building. I knew: today won’t be a ‘fun mountain pass’, but a mental and physical test. I’ll never forget this hotel. I’ll definitely come back here one day with my boyfriend – hopefully with a lot less stress in my body.
The climb: 'I made it… or did I?'
The ascent from the Bormio side went smoother than expected. Narrow tunnels, tight hairpins and steep rock walls, but it all still felt manageable. I had a good rhythm, looked well through the corners and kept my line.
At the top of the pass I genuinely thought I had made it. I parked the bike, looked around and thought: okay, that was it. Until I realised I was only halfway. The side from all the iconic photos – that endless wall of hairpins – that was the side I still had to ride. And downhill.
Panic in hairpin 3
From the viewpoint I saw the entire northern wall below me: traffic, steep drop-offs, and 48 hairpins that suddenly felt very real. A small panic attack kicked in. The first two corners went fine, but in hairpin 3 things went wrong.
Because of heavy oncoming traffic I couldn’t take the wide line. I went too tight on the inside, lost my line and suddenly I was down: head first, rolling a bit further. Luckily the fall wasn’t hard – no injuries – but mentally I was completely done.
Another motorcyclist stopped immediately. He lifted my bike, checked if I was okay and gave a few clear, simple tips. But most importantly: he gave me courage. Without him I would probably have stayed there doubting. I was so grateful. Moments like this are why I love the motorcycle community: you’re never truly alone.
We keep going
The rest of the descent was one long chain of stress. Counting down bend after bend and hoping I would make it down without another mistake. Enjoying it wasn’t an option anymore. My world became very small: eyes on where I wanted to go, picking the right gear, not panicking.
Down in a small roadside restaurant everything finally hit me. When I called my boyfriend, the tears came immediately. He had warned me that Stelvio wasn’t the easiest choice for a solo rider, and I felt guilty for going anyway.
But I also felt proud. I did it. It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t Instagram-worthy – but I made it down. Ride Stelvio again? Not for me. Once was enough.
What I learned about riding hairpin bends
Stelvio taught me more than any training ever has. A few things I always take with me now on other passes:
These tips won't make you a perfect mountain rider, but they will help you ride with more calm and awareness – especially if, like me, you sometimes struggle with mountain anxiety.
Bolzano and the first Dolomites in sight
After Stelvio I mostly wanted the rest of the ride ‘over with’. My next destination was Selva, my first stop in the Dolomites. But first: getting through and around Bolzano – not exactly the quietest route.
Due to construction and a new roundabout that wasn’t on my GPS yet, I kept circling. Twenty minutes in heavy traffic was the last thing I still had energy for. But then, suddenly, after all the concrete and chaos, they appeared: the first Dolomite peaks. Sun, fresh air and those iconic rugged rock formations.
At that moment I felt it clearly: this is where I’ll breathe again. Where Stelvio was pure survival, the Dolomites promised flow, space and beauty.
Final obstacle: the hotel parking
At the hotel in Selva one last challenge awaited me: a steep spiral parking ramp going down. Today? Absolutely not. But there was no alternative. In the end it was nothing compared to Stelvio, but mentally I was finished.
I rolled down slowly, parked the bike and made one decision: I’m not leaving this hotel tonight. I enjoyed the pool next to my room and later: rosé, San Pellegrino, roast beef and tiramisu.
Tomorrow I’ll ride deeper into the Dolomites, knowing it’s the last real mountain day of this trip. My heart isn’t ready to say goodbye, but my body knows it’s almost time to go home.
