Cycling in the Engadine and surrounds

Part 1 - In search of a worthy bike

First stop, St Moritz. I figured if I was to find a suitably flash bike to announce my return to road cycling I would find it in this home of European wealth and glamour. Sadly the Engadiners seem to focus on mountain biking, and to be fair they do have an awesome network of trails served by ski lifts in the summer, and I was very tempted to change plans and hire one of the many eMTBs on offer, but I was focused on the self flagellation of riding me and my accumulated excess body weight up from valley floor (circa 1700m a.s.l) to the many mountain passes in the area.

Eventually, somewhere between Gucci and Cartier I found a store called BikeLocal advertising Specialized Tarmacs for rent, and I signed myself up for one. In a moment of stupid rationalisation I soon came to regret I declined the offer of the S-Works version.

But I was in Italian speaking Switzerland, not far from the almighty Stelvio pass and other assorted climbs of the Giro, and while sitting at local coffee shops for the first week with kids off at school - necessary sacrifice to acclimatise to the altitude - I watched a steady procession of two wheels pass me by. Colnago, Pinarello, Willier, Bianchi, and only the rare BMC and Canyon. The message was clear... I, like the Swiss, should only settle for an Italian.

Thankfully Pinar had discovered that the nearby italian enclave of Livigno was a duty free shopping destination, and we headed there, me with the dual goals of finding both a suitable italian bike and red to nurse me through the coming week of pain.

The town was a sprawling affair, and as we ventured deeper into its heart, the stores spruiking their Giants and discount fashion brands slowly gave way to a more refined commerce in La Sportiva and MAAP bibs (curiously). But whilst swimming upstream against the italian equivalent of an outdoor DFS Galleria, I saw tax-free S-Works in windows but nothing worthy apart from a curvacious Pinarello teasing me from within a perspex box at a Milano 2026 Winter Olympics booth.

But eventually like a prostpector chasing a vein to the motherload I followed weird polkadot men on buildings and a steady stream of cyclists on Pinarellos - and google maps - to The Bike Store (literally). I hadn't seen anyone riding a Colnago or Bianchi here, clearly the region was loyal to the Treviso brand, but in the distance on the shop racks out front I instantly recognised the shadows of a Pinarello cast by the late afternoon sun. Soon I was equipped for the Cols to come and loaded it into our Alfa Stelvio to drive back over to Zuoz, all for less than the common Tarmac I had earlier signed on for.