Blog post by Katy
We pulled our bags off the train in Verona and made our way to the bus station. Just a quick 10-minute ride and a short walk to meet Nonna and Papa at our Verona apartment. And what a place it was.
High wood-beamed ceilings, spacious rooms, beds for everyone, two bathrooms (a luxury!), a balcony, Nespresso, laundry – everything we needed and more. Just like that, our next adventure began.
Monday morning arrived with fresh energy. Coffee, conversation, and a buzz of excitement. We headed to Itinera Bike & Travel to collect our seven bikes, along with panniers, repair kits, lights, and helmets. Francisco and his partner patiently fitted each of us before sending us on our way.
Back at the apartment, we packed our gear and spent the rest of the day exploring Verona. Juliet’s balcony, the Roman amphitheatre, winding cobblestone streets, a bit of souvenir shopping, and of course, a classic Italian dinner of pizza, caprese salad and pasta. A perfect start. Early to bed, knowing what lay ahead.
Tuesday morning, we boarded the 11:50 train bound for the top of the Brenner Pass, right on the Austrian border. The ride itself felt like part of the adventure. Winding through mountains, past castles, church steeples, vineyards, and orchards. After three hours, we arrived at the top, ready to ride.
The train, amazingly, held space for 78 bikes, all efficiently loaded and unloaded. Once off, we layered up (gloves, rain jackets, everything we had) and climbed onto our bikes.
And then… we were off. Downhill.
Brennero to Vipiteno – 22.62 km
The landscape was stunning. Snow-dusted mountains, green fields, wildflowers, farm animals, and charming alpine architecture. We followed the “bicicletta” signs along a dedicated bike path that carried us safely all the way to Vipiteno.
Mostly downhill. A dream start for a slightly nervous group of touring novices. Only two small crashes fortunately with no injuries. But the weather had other plans.
The air grew colder, the clouds heavier, and by late afternoon we found ourselves riding straight into a torrential downpour. By the time we rolled into Vipiteno around 5pm, we were soaked and shivering. Downhill may be easy but it doesn’t exactly keep you warm.
We checked into Hotel Kreuz, right in the heart of a postcard-perfect old town filled with colourful buildings, shops, and cafés. Seven of us, two rooms, and one shared goal: get dry and warm.
A drink at the bar helped. Dinner helped more with hearty plates of beef goulash, dumplings, schnitzel, potatoes, and of course, apple strudel and Kaiserschmarrn for dessert.
Lights out by 9pm.
By morning, we were revived by what can only be described as a spectacular German breakfast: croissants, jams, honey, boiled eggs, cheeses, meats, fresh bread, cappuccinos, hot chocolate, fruit, cakes… everything. Exactly what we needed.
Vipiteno to Bressanone – 38.51 km
The skies were still dark, and the rain hadn’t let up. We made the call to wait until noon, wandering the charming old town under umbrellas until we couldn’t wait any longer.
When it was finally time to ride, there were actual cheers.
The rain lingered for a while before slowly easing, and eventually, the sun broke through. Another mostly downhill day, but with enough rolling hills to keep things interesting as we cycled through the countryside.
We forgot to pack lunch thanks to our late start and the only village we passed through was completely shut down for siesta time. We dug through our bags and pieced together a roadside feast of buns and a couple of hard boiled eggs rescued from breakfast, some chewy candies, a bit of chocolate and water. Not exactly gourmet, but sitting on a bench in away from the drizzle for a short rest, it somehow did the job. We continued on into Breassanone.
By now, a rhythm had formed.
Arrive. Shower. Meet at the bar. Debrief.
Our stop in Bressanone followed the same pattern. Hotel Jarolin welcomed us in, and after a quick refresh, we headed out again. Tired from the day, we meandered through the old town and finally stumbled upon a bustling restaurant packed with locals, the smell of schnitzel and fresh beer. Perfect.
Bressanone to Bolzano – 45.75 km
Knowing we had a longer ride ahead, we came prepared: sandwiches filled with meat and cheese, boiled eggs, oversized slices of apple strudel, full water bottles, and plenty of chocolate and candy bribes to keep spirits high.
Another incredible day on the bikes, once again almost entirely on dedicated cycling paths winding through the countryside. Castles perched on hilltops, church steeples rising from every village, endless vineyards, waterfalls, bridges, and tunnels. Every turn looked like a postcard. We stopped in Klausen for coffee and gelato at a bike café before continuing on.
There was one dramatic crash along the way. For a moment I genuinely thought we might be heading to the hospital but after a few candies, a bouquet of wildflowers, some cuddles, and a short rest, we were back on the road.
By the time we rolled into Bolzano, tired and proud, the city seemed to be celebrating our arrival with a flower festival in full bloom. We finished the day with another delicious meal in a recommended restaurant and of course a gelato and café on the way home.
Bolzano to Trento – 67.04 km
Our longest and most intimidating ride of the trip. We woke early, fueled up with another hearty German breakfast, and packed the bikes in the courtyard. After discovering it was yet another public holiday in Italy, Dave spent an hour hunting down lunch supplies and returned triumphantly with gourmet paninis which we later discovered, in our hunger, were all heavily flavored with fennel. Apparently, a local favorite, but definitely not ours.
We rolled out of the old city and back onto our beloved bike path, sunshine out and spirits high. The first 15km flew by before our now-traditional stop at a bicicafé for cold beer, fries, and stories from the road.
Today’s route followed an elevated bike path above endless vineyards and orchards. Beautiful at first, until the wind arrived. Then it grew. And grew. Soon we were battling relentless headwinds that made it feel like we were pedaling backwards and not ideal on the longest ride of the tour. Still, everyone kept pushing on. Olivia amazed us all, spinning her tiny wheels with barely a complaint.
We survived a quick lunch of disappointing fennel sandwiches, rewarded ourselves with one last ice cream stop at another bicicafé, fixed one major flat tire within the last 10km and finally rolled into Trento with exhausted legs. We followed the path into the old town, excited for the much-hyped palazzo from Papa. Alas we were greeted by our host saying there was an “issue” with our room and we’d been moved to another hotel.
So, tired and disappointed, we climbed back on the bikes and rode to a fancy hotel where the seven of us squeezed into two small rooms with cots and pullout couches. That night we gathered in the grand hotel bar for a cold drink, a proper debrief, a little complaining, and shared pizzas before collapsing into bed to rest and recover.
Trento to Riva del Garda – 51.44 km
Yesterday may have been the longest ride but today was easily the toughest both physically and mentally. “Ride GPS” promised a mostly flat route before some intimidating hills in the final 15km. Unfortunately, it was exactly right!
The first 30km flew by, then the climbing began: up, down, up further, down again, until finally one epic push over the mountain and into Lake Garda country. When we first caught sight of the lake, we actually cheered. The water sparkled beneath towering mountains, dotted with colorful kite surfers and sailboats. Absolutely spectacular.
Then came two massive descents. As novice riders, we crawled cautiously down the steep straight roads gripping our brakes while seasoned cyclists flew past us at terrifying speeds, including three young women tucked low over their handlebars the entire way down.
We finally rolled into what we thought was Riva… only to discover we still had another 4km to go through a huge Mountain Bike Festival packed with thousands of riders along the waterfront. We even lost one family member briefly, but after a quick backtrack to the last known sighting, our crew was reunited.
Papa had booked us an apartment for a well-earned rest day. Dave and I grabbed groceries and cold drinks while the rest of the team collapsed onto couches, completely spent. Safely the hardest ride of the trip so far.
Except apparently not hard enough for the boys. At 7am the next morning, they rented full-suspension e-mountain bikes, shuttled to the snowy mountaintop, and spent the day bombing trails all the way back to Riva with a pasta stop included. They returned glowing with excitement, declaring it the “best day and best bikes ever,” then spent another two hours racing around the beach towns before reluctantly returning the bikes to the shop.
That evening we celebrated our nearly finished tour with a lively Italian dinner tucked into a narrow stone alley, complete with cheeky service, flowing wine, and excellent food.
Riva del Garda to Verona – 38.38 km
Our final day had arrived. Fatigue was high, nerves were real, and today’s ride wouldn’t even start until the heat of the day.
We packed up early and rode to the waterfront to catch a ferry from Riva to Garda. The four-hour ride across Lake Garda was beautiful, and by 1pm we were back on the bikes, climbing immediately up and out of town into the blazing sun. After a long, grueling ascent, the route finally flattened and then rewarded us with a bit of glorious downhill riding.
Soon we were back beside our beloved Adige River, following the bike path all the way into Verona. We had done it. One final photo beside the river, Verona behind us, a few cheers, a few tears, and then we rolled back to Francisco at Itinera to return our faithful bikes.
In Reflection…
On our very first night in Verona, Papa gathered us together and kindly, but firmly, said to us:
“Listen up everyone. We are all different ages, different fitness levels, different abilities but we are doing this ride together. We start and finish each ride together. No one rides ahead into town alone.”
Quietly, I thought: impossible. Surely the boys wouldn’t wait. Surely this wouldn’t work.
But thanks to Papa’s endless planning, the touring wisdom of Nonna and Papa, and everyone buying into the team mentality, it worked beautifully. Every day we started together and every day we rolled in together. That became the heart of the whole trip.
We were all challenged, exhausted, inspired, and given hours each day to think, dream, and discover a different way to experience a country and culture together. Unexpected memories were made everywhere along the route.
I would encourage any family to take the plunge. I will take these memories with me through life.
It's About the Ride 