I'm Stuck on the HIGHEST Mountain Road in Italy
The Stelvio Pass is the second-highest road in Europe at over 9,000 feet. On Saturday, I was stuck at the top.
In fact, it's been 5 days and I'm still stranded in the Italian Alps.
But first, how did I get here...
I’ve shared this story with two friends, and both were laughing at my misfortune, so I decided to record a quick video if you would like a laugh as well (with Timestamps)
With some heart and nervous system stuff coming up in March, I started thinking differently about what I actually want to do. And one particular dream from 20 years ago kept surfacing.
When I was very young, I was extremely interested in cars. At probably 11 or 12, I created a vision board of sorts that sat at the end of my bed, and it had my dream car on it at the time - a 1969 Mustang Mach 1.
The day I turned 16, I got my driver's license. Within a few days, I bought my first car. A brand new 2001 Honda Civic. For me, having a car served as a way to get space and freedom from a childhood home that had its challenges.
I had quite a bit of disposable income at that age because I worked full-time hours outside of high school. Every penny I had went into tinkering and modifying that car. It was the first one to be turbocharged in Canada and one of the few in North America.
My love for cars led me to drop out of high school to be an automotive performance mechanic. After doing that for 2 years, I quit when I came up with the idea of my first business and took a job at a parts store to make ends meet.
One day, I did a long-shot application for a dream job at Porsche in their Tuning division. I had an interview with the owner of the largest dealership in Canada, and although I didn't have enough experience for the role, he took a liking to me and offered to create me a position within the organization.
This was an inflection point for me. Do I take a dream job at Porsche (and a steady paycheck didn't hurt either) or do I double down on my business (which at the time, was generating $1500-$2500 a month, so it wasn't looking promising).
I decided to focus on my business and made a deal with myself that by the time I'm 25, I'd buy a Porsche.
By 22, I could afford one. In cash. But after reading The Four-Hour Workweek, I found myself enjoying being lightly attached, travelling quite a bit and staying focused on business.
The appeal of owning a Porsche was not sitting in Toronto traffic with it. It was designing one to spec, taking delivery at Porsche Factory in Leipzig, Germany. Driving it on some of the most beautiful roads in Europe and then shipping it back to Canada.
Tim Ferriss's minimum effective dose philosophy has been a significant framework for me over the years. "What's the smallest dose that will produce a desired outcome."
So, the minimum effective dose of buying a Porsche and doing a European delivery? Rent one.
That's what I did. I booked a black GT3 and prepaid for 1000 km of driving. Spent well over 20 hours trying to map out the most epic road trip possible. When I decided on a route through Germany, Austria, Italy, and Switzerland, I tallied up the distance. 999kms. I kid you not.
Highlights included the Reschen, Flüela, Furka, Oberalp, Grimsel and Stelvio Passes. Along stops and stays to the towns of Malles Venosta + Bormio + Livigno (Italy), Andermat, Davos, Interlaken, Lucerne (Switzerland) and Garmisch Partenkirchen + Lindau (Germany)
I landed in Munich
and took delivery of the car on Wednesday.
I was so excited the night before that I went to sleep at 3am. Every time I closed my eyes, I'd start making random car sounds, like a young boy excited to one day get his license. Or had visions of crashing the car and having to come up with the money to replace it.
Day 2, I woke up again at 6 am to hit the Stelvio Pass. One of the most famous roads in the world.
As I left the town, I was racing through the forest, just taking in the sounds of the car reverberating off the trees. Not a single car in sight. It was magic.
Then I could feel the elevation in the road change. The excitement was slowly replaced with unease as the road became more and more narrow. And the road guards became fewer and fewer.
It was at that moment I remember, fuck. I'm terrified of heights. I felt so stupid for never putting two and two together.
The more I climbed, the more my nervous system went into overdrive.
I'm hugging as close as I can to the mountainside.
Focused 10 feet ahead at most.
Legs tingling.
Hands sweating into the suede steering wheel, gripping so tight they're cramping.
I'm repeating a mantra in my head to NOT look down, and that I only need to make it to the top.
Thankfully, because it's early in the morning, I'm not holding anyone up driving 22kms an hour in a $300,000 Porsche. Trust me, the irony is not lost on me.
I turn the corner and see the last set of the iconic 46 hairpins.
I just need to white-knuckle it for 12 more minutes, and this will all be over.
By the time I reached the top, I was far from relieved. I get out of the car, in hopes of shaking off the vibrations in my body, but barely make it that far. I'm walking low and crouched as if that's safer in some stupid way. I'm not in my rational brain at all. Scenarios of what happens if there's an avalanche. What happens if some random terrorist group decides to blow up the road? What if this mountain just decides to crumble?
I get back in the car, and decided to turn on my Othership app to do some breathwork. "Sweet Peace" - a 9-minute calming breathwork session that I've done dozens of times.
As I start to be ok, then it hits me.
I need to drive down this damn thing.
I go into full-blown panic again. I fantasize about someone knocking on my window and offering to drive the car down the mountain for $10,000 and they would send a helicopter to get me. And then me jumping at the opportunity.
Except it's 7 in the morning. I barely see a soul, and nobody is coming to save me.
I set "Sweet Peace" on repeat as I crawl down the other side. As if this wasn't hard enough, altitude sickness makes taking deep breaths hard on my throat.
I made a deal with myself. Fuck my plans to drive the most "glorious roads in the world"; this is NOT for me. I am booking the first hotel I see when I'm at the bottom of this mountain and not moving.
I make it down to Bormio, and book 2 nights. That night, I went to bed at 4:15am, a time I don't think I've ever seen before. (It could have been the espresso charged Tiramisu before bed, but I blame it on the mountain)
The next day, I cancel my plans of driving to Switzerland and decide instead to go south to Lake Como. At an elevation of 653 feet, I can do that.
Then the rain came.
This is a problem. I'm driving a car that is purpose-built for the track, whose tires effectively become slicks in the rain. And upcoming freezing temperatures in the forecast just make everything worse.
So, my two days in Bormio became four, and now six. As Outkast says "you can plan a pretty picnic but you can't predict the weather."
I'm not complaining. I think it's exactly what I need. My drive to push and make this "epic" meant I had a full itinerary. Different towns every day.
Bormio has everything I need. Which apparently is pizza, borderline irresponsible amounts of pasta, and tiramisu that I'm definitely not eating at midnight while processing my mountain trauma. The Pizzoccheri alone is worth getting stranded for.
The spirit of this solo trip was to calm down my nervous system and to rest and recharge. Turns out being stranded in a small Italian town is exactly that. Just not how I pictured it.
Six months of navigating this nervous system stuff has taught me one thing: when fight or flight hits, honor it. Give yourself space to regulate, or it will bite you in the ass down the road.
Also, not being on the go gives me a little space to write this quick note to you. I trust all is good in your world - Saluti!
P.S: In some weird twist of fate, I somehow accidentally switched on my audio recording when driving down the mountain, and you can hear Sweet Peace in the background as I'm breathing and cursing my way through it. The audio is 90 minutes in duration, and I've saved the recording because it's hilarious to listen to.
P.P.S:
