For an English couple, how one thinks about the Stelvio Pass comes down to which Top Gear presenter you identify with. I’m more of a James May, and think it “a magnificent piece of road building.” Evie is closer aligned to Hammond. “You go over the edge here, you’ve got time to phone the insurers.”
We wake early to check the weather. The forecast from last night had suggested we would be in rain all day, but it’s currently sunny outside and is now showing dry at Stelvio until 11:00am. In order to keep ourselves on the right side of rulings regards organised car events on roads across South Tyrol, the organisers are having us approach Stelvio via a circuitous route. We figure if we get out by 8:00 we could be in Val Müstair by 10:00am. That should put us across the Stelvio before the rains come.
Of course, one does not simply cross the Stelvio. Especially not in a 1953 car, with four drum brakes whose reliability is best described as negotiable.
We grab breakfast, and head out to warm up TS2. She’s been happily coddled overnight in her underground garage, and wants only a little water and some oil to get her moving. It won’t be long until she needs fuel, mind, so we do a quick tour of petrol stations in Merano (all suspiciously out of high-octane petrol). As always on these events, people have stayed in different places around the town overnight, but there’s a general amassing at key junctions on the early route, with participants converging from entirely different directions. We head West with the sun on our backs and the roof off, tailing and then leading two saloons as we alternately check for fuel.
It’s achingly pretty. We trade places briefly with a beautiful red 1982 TR7 V8, piloted by Club Triumph members Jos and Avice. British Leyland stopped production of the TR7 in October ‘81, so this must be one of the last off the line. On this gorgeous climb, we bookend almost the full production run of the Triumph TR story.
We drive beyond the secret turn in Santa Maria and collect a TR4A navigating via paper maps. A quick three-pointer in a gravel car-park (far easier than tarmac without power steering) and we head back down together, spotting the small lane signed “Via d’Umbrail”. This road is Switzerland’s highest paved mountain pass at 2,501m. It will carry us from Switzerland to Italy and on any other day, it’d be the star item. Today, it’s just an access road.
As the road curves up, we find ourselves catching up with Rob and Mark. This is the first time we’ve shared road since Amiens. We follow them over the border into Italy, against a background of snow-capped peaks.
After about 15km, we meet the feature event. Stelvio.
Stelvio
Of course, Rob and I miss the turn initially, and the cars we have caught get away from us whilst we head a short distance to our second gravel car-park of the day to turn around.
That’s good. Less chance of us rolling into the back of them as we come down. TS2 has demonstrated her capability in the climb, but the brakes are still a bit of “downshift early, dab the pedal once, feather then grab the handbrake before powering round”. We are unlikely to be troubling the wide tyred servo enhanced disc brakes around us.
Less good is my stopping TS2 at the top of the climb with her nose pointing up the hill. She’s hot, and of course, she won’t idle. She cuts out, presumably in a sulk that we’ve momentarily stopped feeding her hairpins.
We watch the other cars head down towards Bormio. Four, five, six switchbacks ahead. It’s quite an intimidating view. No matter, Evie hops out and pushes TS2 backward towards the edge. Handbrake on, creep behind and charge forwards. Now pointing back down towards our turn, Evie recruits two cyclists, and secures a second bump start for our Darling steed. Nose down, she’s got the scent of hydrocarbons and leaps into action.
If the ascent was amazing, the descent can only be described as phenomenal. Tunnels under waterfalls, rock galleries, tight technical sections and a rock tunnel through the Braulio Gorge that pinches down to a single passage and feels for all the world like we are riding a ghost train.
TS2 is taking absolutely no prisoners. The Triumphs are long gone, but there’s a BMW M3 (edit: M4 F83 cabrio) on the road below. She sniffs the air once, and hunkers down. After a handful of hairpins, she’s on it. They pull over to take pictures (a face-saving exercise if ever there were one) and we sail past, blipping and popping as TS2’s wheels pull unburnt fuel into the exhaust system.
Evie is counting off turns and giving excellent navigation guidance: “short easy left into hairpin right, clear.” The three of us make an excellent team.
Around half-way down, we round a hairpin to find the back of our original group. A pair of TR6s and a 2500 Saloon can’t out-descend TS2. Honestly, she absolutely comes alive in this terrain. The calm pace of the remaining switchbacks allow us to take in the views and consider her provenance.
TS2 was made to do this, and she does it better than any other car on the road today. No wonder people don’t get why she’s special. Running her around beauty pageants is never going to let her show what she’s about. As Evie observes, “it’s like using an Arabian thoroughbred for donkey rides on the beach.”
After six months of dreading Stelvio, many tears, then bravely facing her fears, Evie screams “This is the best day of my life!”
This is definitely the point where we have utterly fallen in love with TS2. We bottom out at Bormio just after 11. Evie and I are thrilled to have been present when TS2 revealed her true colours. It is such a privilege to have her for the trip, and we are honoured that she trusts us enough to let us glimpse the extent of her capabilities.
I’m struggling to put it into words, so here are two videos, one on the approach, and one just after we’ve descended the final hairpin.
We both agree with the Top Gear verdict. “It’s the best driving road, in the world.” And would add that we have “The absolute best car for it”.
In our excitement, it takes us a while to notice a fluttering in her heart. One cylinder isn’t firing. She’s taken us across myriad passes in the last couple of days, and the altitude has probably blackened her plugs. We pull into a deserted car-park outside an industrial facility to give her a post-op inspection.
Plug one is fine. Plug two is very sooty. Three is ok. Four is absolutely charcoaled. All make excellent hand warmers. We replace them with 2019 stock Japanese manufactured NGKs. Evie and I are now bonded to TS2. We rest our palms on her rocker cover as she cools, much as you might caress the cheek of a sleeping child.
The rain announces itself by drumming on the open bonnet, individual drops blooming into dark flowers for an instant on the hot manifold, disappearing as quickly as they arrive. We quickly put the roof on, having become well practised. The tools are fed back into the boot, the sidescreens replaced atop them, and the lid secured. With all protected, we clamber back in.
I start the engine. She runs beautifully. We are so relieved she is happy again, and that we have been able to look after her. I pledge to keep the old plugs as a souvenir of our time together. As we climb back in, I pause for a second to congratulate TS2, gently stroking her door-trim, whilst Evie pats the dash-pad. Before we are even in gear, an elderly Italian gentleman drives a Fiat Panda into the car-park, stops by the main door to enact some perfunctory responsibility, climbs back in, and promptly reverses into TS2’s rear wing just ahead of the rear lamp assembly.
Fortunately, we are not in gear and the handbrake is not on. TS2 absorbs the impact with a lurch that devastates us. “No!!! How could you??? Why??? She is so precious. So darling!”
We rush to hold her. Evie scolds the man. It takes us a few minutes to process anything.
We pull ourselves up. Evie makes sure the gent is OK. His car is undamaged. He is clearly saddened to see the distress he has caused. TS2’s rear flank shows paint cracking and a small dent. The screw holding her rear lamp no longer secures the top. The man apologises. We are distraught. Checking her over, assessing the damage. It physically hurts.
I’ve had this pain exactly once before, and recognise the same in Evie’s eyes. Something so beautiful, so loyal, so blameless, that we loved so dearly was hit by a car, and left a huge hole in our lives when it was taken from us. Sitting with TS2, we begin to process both experiences. Evie’s tears are for all of us.
The world comes back into focus. The man has driven away. After five more minutes, we just want to be out of this awful place. We know she’s been campaigned extensively, and this won’t be her first battle scar, but I hate seeing it mar her lovely lines. We need to put some distance between things. We pull back out onto the carriageway, and begin the long drag to Liechtenstein.
The rains build, and worried about the rear lamp, we spy a covered filling station just after Tirano and set about fixing her up. I dress her in gaffer tape, and find myself hoping the placebo pain-killing power of a band-aid will soothe her wounds.
We drive on, through Le Prese, coming alongside the train on the approach, then chasing it through the historic town when track and road merge into a single carriageway. I’m at the wheel and tired. Looking out over TS2’s dash, I already feel like I’m in a Buster Keaton film. Following a train isn’t helping. I barely spot the row of chevrons as road and track curve left, indicating that the road turns a touch tighter than the rail where they separate.
We leave the tracks behind as we climb above Poschiavo on the Bernina Pass at 2,328m, cresting at 2pm, then barrel down the Engadine to Madulain. Like a Thomas Hardy heroine, the weather reflects TS2’s mood. Grey skies. Relentless rain. Cold. Up the Flüela Pass at 2,383m on the way into Davos, it is painfully cold.
We still aren’t running side-screens as the visibility hit is too high. I put on every item of clothing I have. Evie’s trousers abandoned since day one go over my shorts. I wear a hoodie, waterproof, jacket, and the adventure hat for strength. Evie ties a pink microfibre cloth around my exposed wrist to keep the cold out of my bones, but my right hand is freezing. The left rests on the gearstick, which carries warmth from TS2’s valiant beating heart to my hand.
I know from cycling days there’s no rule that says you can’t be sunburned and hypothermic in the same day. The Wolfgangpass takes us from Davos to Klosters for 4pm, and we are coming to rely upon the descents through tunnels of warm air to recover feeling in our limbs. Evie is wrapped in her dry robe, but we are both losing too much heat. We stop in a service station to hold coffee cups and sit on radiators.
Finally, we cross the militarised encampment that separates Switzerland from Liechtenstein and enter our ninth country around 5pm. We find a cafe and warm ourselves.
The road back out is the one we came in on. We decide to make a beeline for our hotel in Andermatt, Switzerland. Five major passes in a single day is more than enough for us, and we owe poor Darling a rest. The weather improves briefly, but does little to lift our mood. At half seven, we traverse the Oberalp Pass (2,044m) in freezing fog and drop into Andermatt for supper.
Blind. Tired. Spent.
The bed calls us, but we know our spirits will be lifted if we can eat and connect with other entrants. We’ve been looking forward to the swiss hotel and have pre-booked a table in the restaurant for food. We’ve arrive too late, and they’ve moved our reservation to a grill down the road. We allow ourselves twenty five minutes to recover, then head out into the darkness.
We are soon sitting with Kris, Coops, Tim and Craig. Coops and Kris are generally travelling with Dom and Archie, but have got ahead on their way into Andermatt. For Dom, the fog will be pitch black. Word in the group is he has so little fuel in the tank that his engine cuts on every left-hand hairpin. He joins us at the table and is soon restored by food and companionship. Archie and I spend the entire meal laughing at his father and Evie. They’re both knackered and are clearly having adjacent monologues rather than conversation.
As Evie and I retire to bed, we review what has been an amazing day.
So very many ups and downs.