Heart Skips a Beat in Val di Scalve

It’s the most isolated valley in our land.

You don’t just end up in Val di Scalve very often. Either you love skiing, or you’re drawn to wild, rugged mountains. There isn’t much to do in Val di Scalve. Even getting there is a real nightmare — even by car.

You can reach it from the main road that climbs up from Lake Iseo: at Darfo you turn left and enter the Via Mala — omen nomen — a narrow, winding road carved into a canyon, suspended over sheer emptiness. Otherwise, you can come from the Presolana Pass. You have to ride all the way up the provincial road, 60 kilometers through the Val Seriana, to the pass, and from there plunge down a steep, twisting descent that drops into Val di Scalve.

That’s actually my favorite direction: climbing the entire valley, the long straight stretches leading up to the Pass, because I know that 700 or 800 meters below lies what I consider my favorite spot as a cyclist.

There’s nothing particularly special about the road itself: a wide two-lane carriageway, clearly marked by a solid white center line dividing the traffic. But the view that opens up before you is beyond compare. It is the postcard, the frame, the most beautiful glimpse you could possibly take home with you. In front of you, in all its splendor, unfolds the breathtaking beauty of Val di Scalve.

Only when you stand at that very point will you truly understand.

Every time I reach it, my heart skips a beat.

You can’t help but slow down, pull over to the side of the road, unclip your cleats, and just look. That’s it. A few seconds, a few deep breaths. If you’re composed and clear-headed enough, maybe you’ll remember to take a photo with your phone — but what you’re seeing is so magnificent that, like me more often than not, you’ll forget.

Sometimes I still need you, Val di Scalve