OLD BOYS, BAD ROADS: How Much Comfort Do You Need?

OLD BOYS, BAD ROADS. At 20, you just open the door and set off. Later in life, you’ve got the money for a VW Amarok, a rooftop tent and some pretty decent gear – but you feel a pronounced need to plan ahead, something made worse by your access to Excel spreadsheets. Is there still room in our lives for a real adventure? We went looking for the answer on the last great off-road tracks of the Western Alps.

“Rock face on the left, a 100-metre drop on the right. And just enough room for our Mercedes G-Class in between.” That was the commentary in a YouTube video about the Ligurian Border Ridge Road that I showed my three friends one evening.

It all started with a question as simple as it was consequential: What should you ensure you do before the road eventually leads to a retirement home?

Aged 20, the answer would probably have been simply: just go. Today, things look a little different. You’ve got a good car, decent equipment, a rooftop tent, an air compressor – and enough experience to know everything that could potentially go wrong. So you plan. Research routes, check your gear, write Excel spreadsheets.

At some point, though, you have to finish the list – and the part you can’t plan has to begin.

Jürgen, you’re not going with them until you’ve increased your life insurance.
– spontaneous reaction from Lissi, his wife.

Jürgen, proud owner of a highly polished VW Amarok, was immediately sold on the idea. Perhaps the daily underemployment of his four-wheel-drive pick-up with chunky off-road tires had something to do with it. Finally – a chance to let the Amarok do what it was built for.

Four weeks later, we sat down together, made an equipment list in Excel, and picked our favourites from 79 official off-road routes through the Alps. All we needed was a date.

As everyone knows, retirees never have any time, so finding one took a little longer. Martin sadly had to pull out for family reasons. And then there were three. In hindsight, perhaps not such a bad thing – with four of us, the Amarok would have been more than a little cosy.

Contents

1. Out of the Comfort Zone – Between Packing Lists and Lacking Space
2. Getting There – Welcome to Reality
3. Easy? Depends What You’re Driving
4. “Easy” Really Is Relative
5. Welcome to the Club
6. The Great Freedom?
7. Three Men, Three Favourites
8. Almost 3,000 Metres – and a Pretty Bad Idea
9. 7 Things We Learned on Our Trip
10. Conclusions
11. What Worked
12. Less Is More – But the Right Stuff Is Crucial
13. Our Favourite Off-Road Routes (Top 5)

Out of the Comfort Zone – Between Packing Lists and Lacking Space

Organised tour or go it alone? Four-star hotel or rooftop tent? For us, the answer was obvious: if you’re going to leave your comfort zone, do it properly. So we opted for a rooftop tent, a regular tent, and as many nights somewhere out in the wild as possible.

Our camping experience was limited. Very limited. More precisely, it consisted of our One-Night Bikepacking Tour with E-SUVs and, in my case, another two nights in a rooftop tent.

Our packing list, on the other hand, was impressive: tire repair kit, tools, recovery rope, an air compressor, camping gear, food, water, clothes – at first, it included everything we might conceivably need. And quite a bit more.

At some point, the obvious became clear: if we really took everything on the list, we’d need a support vehicle just for the luggage. So we started crossing things off again.

Meanwhile, Jürgen took care of the really important stuff.

I just need to vacuum the car, then we can leave tomorrow.

Of course, getting the tire pressure right was part of the preparation too: lower for more grip on gravel, then back up for the tarmac sections – obvious stuff for car geek Jürgen. Equally inevitable was the accompanying lecture on contact patches, traction, damping and tire deformation. Several times a day, naturally.

My son Robin took a slightly more critical view of my preparations:

Stop preparing, and don’t watch any more videos about those mountain roads.

Getting There – Welcome to Reality

We were actually extremely well prepared (sorry, Robin). The rooftop tent was fitted, the gear packed and Beaufort chosen as our starting point. We’d even agreed on a departure time: six in the morning. Then, the evening before, Jürgen requested a minor change of plan:

“First a relaxed breakfast, then I’ll be ready for the day.”

So much for meticulous planning. By the time we reached Switzerland, motorway traffic had completely dissolved our schedule. Our first off-road excursion, planned for that afternoon, was off the table.

Not a single metre of gravel behind us, and already we had to improvise.

At least we were convinced we’d be flexible when it came to sleeping. With a rooftop tent and camping gear, you can find a nice spot anywhere. Or so we thought. Around Chamonix, camper vans lined the roadside bumper to bumper. Places that looked spacious on the map turned out to be steep slopes in real life. Wild camping? No chance. In the end, we landed exactly where we hadn’t wanted to go: a campsite.

Except that was full. We persisted, smiled nicely – and somehow got a pitch after all. Jürgen unfolded the rooftop tent, Manfred pitched his bikepacking tent and I took care of dinner: spaghetti with tomato sauce. Accompanied by white wine which was considerably warmer than was good for it.

You get used to it.

Easy? Depends What You’re Driving

The next morning in Beaufort, we fuelled up on coffee, baguettes and the raw-milk cheese that proudly bears the town’s name. Little pleasures like these make everything feel easier, and so we went looking for the start of our first route: La Planay, 17 kilometres, difficulty rating “easy”.

Sounded reasonable.

The first lesson came pretty quickly: “easy” is relative. Especially in a huge VW Amarok on roads that apparently date from an era when cars were considerably narrower. Where two Fiat 500s could probably have squeezed past each other, we often filled pretty much the entire width of the track.

But the scenery immediately made it clear why you come here in the first place. Sweeping views, huge mountains, thin ribbons of gravel – and suddenly all that preparation felt very far away. So far away, in fact, that we simply missed the turn-off for our next planned route, the Cormet d’Arêches.

Normally that would be pretty annoying. For the benefit of our story, it was pretty much perfect.

So instead of taking the Cormet d’Arêches, we headed over the Col de l’Iseran towards Susa. The plan was gone: now the adventure could begin.

“Easy” Really Is Relative

Over the next few days, we worked our way deeper into the off-road territory around Susa and Bardonecchia. It soon became clear that the official difficulty ratings leave plenty of room for interpretation.

On one descent rated “easy”, down a steep and heavily washed-out track, for example, we were fairly convinced we’d taken a wrong turn. The map, navigation system and GPX data insisted otherwise. So on we went. With every passing kilometre, our confidence in the Amarok grew – and in Jürgen’s driving skills. At the same time, we learned that the concept of “It’ll fit” is slightly different on a narrow mountain track than in a supermarket car park.

Welcome to the Club

The longer we travelled, the clearer it became: a dusty 4×4 with a rooftop tent is your membership card to a pretty informal club. People wave, swap route tips and places to stay, then run into each other again somewhere else a few days later.

That’s how we met Rien from the Netherlands, whose 1992 Range Rover Classic was a long way from original. He’d replaced the original V8 with a 2.8-litre diesel, which he installed himself.

Then there was Pierre, who had transformed his Dacia Duster into a serious off-roader for trips through the Western Alps, Corsica and the Peloponnese – and planned to convert it back into a normal commuter car after the season ends.

Some of the best information about the next route came not from our maps or apps, but from someone who had just driven it in the opposite direction.

Dust brings people together.

The Great Freedom?

A hotel was only Plan C. We really wanted to sleep outside – somewhere between the mountains, on gravel, under the stars. If the desire for a shower eventually became stronger than the desire for adventure, we’d make an exception and allow ourselves a campsite.

Reality was a little less romantic. Wild camping is restricted or prohibited in many parts of France and Italy, and the perfect spot was surprisingly often either uncomfortably sloping, occupied, or simply off limits.

Eventually, hygiene became a matter of personal interpretation too. I went for a full bath in an ice-cold mountain stream, Manfred perfected the “quick wash” and one morning Jürgen opted for a third approach: staying in bed. “Only water and CD touch my skin.” That morning, he skipped both.

Three Men, Three Favourites

Later, on the drive back from the Ligurian coast to our home in Swabia, the obvious question came up: which route was actually the best?

Jürgen didn’t have to think for long:

“In terms of the driving and scenery, the Ligurian Border Ridge Road was the most interesting for me. Rock face on the right, sheer drop on the left – and often very little room in between. My eyes were almost permanently fixed on the front right wheel, the same question running through my head: is the tire still on the track?”

For Manfred, it was all about the views:

“For me, the Ligurian Border Ridge Road and the Col de Sommeiller were the most beautiful routes.”

And I’d add Monte Jafferau – if only for the almost 900 metre long, pitch-black and decidedly eerie Galleria dei Saraceni.

Three men, three favourites. Not quite as clear-cut as expected.

Almost 3,000 Metres – and a Pretty Bad Idea

The Col de Sommeiller was high on my wish list. And if we were going to drive up to almost 3,000 metres anyway, why not spend the night up there in the rooftop tent? I thought it was a brilliant idea. Jürgen and Manfred were less enthusiastic.

The climb itself made it clear that we were slowly leaving our comfort zone. The higher we went, the more rugged the landscape became. Coarse gravel, tight hairpins, bare rock – eventually, Manfred simply described the scenery as a moonscape.

At the summit, we found nothing but a powerful wind that battered us relentlessly. There wasn’t much to discuss. My plan to spend the night at almost 3,000 metres effectively cancelled itself. Adventure, yes. But you don’t have to follow every bad idea through to the bitter end.

7 Things We Learned on Our Trip

1. Planning vs. Reality A good plan matters. Even more important: being willing to throw it out at a moment’s notice.
2. Wild Camping Isn’t That Easy Especially when every beautiful spot is either too hilly, forbidden, or already occupied by five camper vans.
3. Warm White Wine Is Actually Quite Nice At least when the alternative is no wine at all.
4. A Pick-Up Is Bigger Than You Think Especially on roads apparently built for vehicles from another era.
5. A Rooftop Tent Doesn’t Make You a Camper But it certainly helps you look convincing.
6. Off-Roaders Wave at Each Other Apparently, a dusty car with a rooftop tent replaces any need for a club membership.
7. Retirees Never Have Time But somehow, there’s always a gap for a week in the Western Alps.

Conclusions

Maybe we’re not quite as spontaneous as we were at 20. We plan more, take better equipment and know pretty much exactly what could go wrong. Yet it only helped so much. We got lost, improvised, froze in the rooftop tent and drank warm white wine. And that’s probably exactly why it was such an adventure.

By the end, the VW Amarok certainly wasn’t so highly polished any more.

What Worked

Less Is More – But the Right Stuff Is Crucial

A tire repair kit, recovery or towing rope, air compressor, and the essential tools for minor repairs belong in your luggage on an off-road trip just as much as the usual camping equipment. For personal gear, sturdy shoes, a rain jacket and – even in midsummer – warm layers using the layering principle proved their worth. Also particularly useful: a 20 litre water container for cooking, brushing teeth and washing up, a 10 litre bucket for dirty dishes, water, or anything else that needed carrying, enough food and drink for one or two days, and bin bags.

Optional, but extremely pleasant: a 12 volt cool box for cold drinks.

What would we do differently next time: pack considerably fewer clothes – all three of us brought too much. I also packed two books, and hadn’t read a single line by the end of the trip. And one more tip from the “improvisation is king” category: toilet paper is more versatile than tissues.

Our
Favourite Off-Road Routes (Top 5)

Top 5 and 4: Colle delle Finestre and Colle dell´Assietta

From Susa, we first drove over the Colle delle Finestre (No. 5). The route merges into the Colle dell´Assietta (No. 4) and continues to the Rifugio Cia Pais route (Tour 20, 9 km, altitude 2,400 m).

Top 3: Monte Jafferau

Monte Jafferau is one of the most spectacular high-mountain routes in the Western Alps. Following former military roads, the route climbs to an altitude of 2,800 metres and passes several historic forts. Narrow gravel tracks, steep climbs and fantastic views of the surrounding Alpine peaks make it a genuine off-road experience.

Top 2: Col de Sommeiller

At around 3,000 metres, the Col de Sommeiller is the highest point in Europe that can legally be reached by motor vehicle. The route starts in Bardonecchia and climbs via often steep gradients, coarse gravel and at times tight hairpins, where you sometimes have to reverse the vehicle, up to just below the summit. The higher we climbed, the more rugged the terrain became.

The pass road to the Col de Sommeiller was built in 1962/63 to provide tourist access to the summer ski area on the glacier. But as the glacier retreated and the hotel was destroyed by a severe avalanche, the project became history. The once-paved road gradually crumbled into a natural track – eventually becoming a real Eldorado for off-roaders.

Top 1: Ligurian Border Ridge Road (Also Via del Sale)

Setting an alarm on holiday? Fortunately, none of my friends thought to put me in charge of that. As route planner and chief navigator, I’d already been too late for the online booking. So there was only one option: get up early, and try to be first at the toll booth at 8 AM. The Ligurian Border Ridge Road is limited to a maximum of 80 off-road vehicles per day, and only a small number of remaining tickets are available at the toll booth. Once we’d passed the barrier, I could finally relax. Now all we needed was for the fog to lift!

And suddenly, there it was in front of us: the narrow track along the border ridge that had started this whole story in the first place. Tight, exposed, with few passing places – and sharp-edged rocks repeatedly appearing right beside the tires. Full concentration was imperative.

For us, it was nevertheless – or perhaps precisely because of that – the most beautiful route of the entire trip.

Words & Photos: Manne Schmitt