Freitag,
29. März 2024
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Innsbruck to Lake Iseo
It was raining hard last night as we pulled into Innsbruck, capital of the Austrian state of Tyrol, and a city with a history that dates back almost 900 years. It's still raining when I wake at 4:30 a.m. This is not good, for today we are heading deep into the Alps for a run across the famed Stelvio Pass.
Located where Switzerland kisses Italy and Austria, the 9045-ft Stelvio is one of the highest paved passes in the Alps, and until 1936 the highest pass you could take a car over anywhere in the world. Originally constructed in the 1820s, and little changed since, it reaches a one in nine gradient at some points. The view of the road wriggling like spilled spaghetti down the ancient glacial valley on the northern side of the pass is one of the most iconic in motoring.
We check out of the hotel and gas up shortly after 6 a.m. Despite yesterday's autobahn blasting, the Challenger has delivered 16.2 mpg. That's largely because when the A7 autobahn head-butts the Alps south of Stuttgart, it turns into a two-lane mountain road, and the traffic volume means you can only cruise along. Just as well, because premium is currently running $9.97 a gallon in Innsbruck, and this fill cost me $149.47. Whoa! I think my Amex card just caught fire...
Clouds cloak the mountains as we run west along the streaming wet A12 motorway. This first 45 minutes or so is the only dual carriageway we'll see all day -- the rest is all two-lane, or less. We take the road to Pfunds through picture postcard Alpine meadows and cross the border into Italy near the top of the 4934-ft Reschenpass before sweeping down into the Adige valley. Good news: We've left the rain behind. Better news: The turnoff to 30 miles of astonishing mountain road is just ahead.
The road starts to climb relentlessly from the town of Prato allo Stelvio, first twisting through thick pine forest before bursting out of the treeline. Once clear of the trees, we get a magnificent view of the rock-bare mountains, with last winter's ice and snow still snuggled in the shady spots, and a glacier sparkling in the sunshine. There are 48 hairpin turns -- all numbered -- and the Challenger needs full lock to get around most of them. Near the top, the road loops back on itself three or four times in the space of a few hundred yards.
With the transmission left in drive the big Dodge oozes up the mountain, surfing the 6.1L Hemi's 420 lb-ft of torque. The transmission will adjust its shift protocol to your driving style, but if you want to hustle, it's best to slap the shifter into manumatic mode and choose the shift points yourself. It also helps to switch off the ESP, because some of the corners are so tight, with such a severe camber change on the apex, that the inside wheel starts to spin and the nanny shuts down the fire just as you need it to grunt the car out of the turn.
First, second, brake. First, on the gas, second, maybe third. Brake. Second, first. On the gas, second. Brake, first, on the gas, second ...and so it goes, all the way up the mountain. On a road that would be a tight fit for a Lancer Evo, the Challenger feels like a linebacker at a square dance. It makes the right moves, but in a very deliberate manner. This is a big, heavy car for this sort of driving, but it dives into the turns crisply and punches hard along the short straights.
I wind down the window and hear an edgy crackle to the pounding V-8 bass line echoing off the stone walls. Perhaps that's why the Challenger draws an enthusiastic response as we pull into Stelvio's crowded summit. Bikers and hikers, tourists and skiers all crowd around the Hemi-orange coupe, asking questions and taking photos. The Germans, Dutch, Brits, and Italians -- especially the Italians -- love the muscular, all-American extravagance of the Challenger. But they're glad they're not paying the gas bills.
The dramatic north side of the Stelvio is the glamorpuss of the pass, thanks to that one iconic view down the north side, but the smoother south side - with 46 hairpin turns, only marginally less sinuous - offers a greater variety of truly stunning mountain panoramas. Photographer Brian Vance keeps jumping out of the car: "Just one more shot. Just one more..." You'll want to drive this bit twice: Once for the road and once just to admire the scenery.
We grab a couple cornering shots just down from the summit, using radios and spotters to ensure the road is clear. Get on the gas too early, and the Challenger's nose will start to push wide. It's better -- and faster -- to be just a little patient and wait until a little later in the turn to unleash all 425 horses. Then the big Dodge settles back on its haunches and grunts out of the turn. With the ESP switched off, you can dial in just the right amount of oversteer with your right foot.
I'd like a little less travel in the brake pedal before the Brembos start to bite, and less of a gap between second and third gears, but I'm impressed: Five years ago, you couldn't have driven any American car on this road with this must gusto. The on-board g-meter, part of a digital display package that can also show your 0-60-mph, quarter-mile and 60-0-mph times, tells the tale: We've pulled .72 g under brakes and .67 g through the turns in real-world driving conditions.
Barely a mile or two from the summit, we turn left off the main route and drive a few hundred yards to cross the border into Switzerland just for the hell of it -- and to bring the total number of countries the Challenger will visit this trip to six. Then we turn back and curl and twist and sweep and swoop among the swarms of motorcycles down into the town of Bormio. (Hot tip: If you want to drive the Stelvio with purpose, do it early in the morning, before the sun gets the bikers buzzing like flies.)
We're now in the small town of Iseo, nestled at the foot of Lago d'Iseo, one of the dreamily gorgeous Italian lakes nestling on the south side of the Alps. Tomorrow we leave the mountains behind and head across the steamy Po Valley to a small town once known throughout Italy for the metalworking skills of its inhabitants, but now world famous for its supercars -- Modena. A Challenger muscling in on the home turf of Ferrari, Lamborghini, Maserati: This could be fun.
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