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Gone Up The Mountains

Tarvisio Italy

By John Braynard

ROADIE ON A MOUNTAIN BIKE

Yeah, I wear spandex. I only wear gloves in winter. I clip my feet to the pedal. I am a roadie.

This year, for my 31st birthday, I decided to take a few friends up on an offer to go mountain biking in Italy on the Austrian and Slovenian border in the town of Tarvisio. Luckily, a few months ago I purchased a full suspension mountain bike and had already hit up a handful of local trails — so I was already feeling pretty damn pro. I was promised picturesque ascents and flowy downhills.

I was damn stoked…

THE CAST

The group was made up of a variety of nationalities and experience, with me being the furthest from home and furthest from skill.

‘Merica: John B (That’s me)

Finland: Pekka Kupiainen

UK: James Renwick

Austria: Harald Tranninger, Philipp Hieslmair, Philipp Doms, Lukas Pilz

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Riding Bikes Up-Hill

We had two full days of riding planned. Lukas used every damn mapping technology ever invented to plan routes for both days. I had complete trust in his skillz. However, going into the weekend I kept hearing an unknown Italian word “Via Ferrata”, more on that later.

While we were riding uphill, it was amazing. The group was pretty fit and the surfaces ranged from tarmac to gravel fire-roads to a handful of lumpy rocked single trails. For a roadie like myself, this was a blast.

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Carrying Bikes Up-Hill

“I should’ve known better than to let an Austrian plan the routes”

Austrians are freakin’ nuts. I’m not talking about the Viennese Ball attending strudel eating softies. I mean the real mountain Austrian motherf**kers. Turns out…Lukas is one of them. Imagine how American Rednecks get stiffies for driving their 4x4 pickups through swamps and shit. Austrians have this same hard-on for going up mountains. It turns out Lukas’ bike route planning sessions were basically him plotting a adventurous hiking trip.

We eventually reached the “Via Ferrata”, which was absolutely astonishingly gorgeous and worth the insanity to get to it. Big thanks to LP for keeping it weird.

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Here James gives a few choice thoughts. Riveting Tale Chap!

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Going Downhill on Bikes

I admit. I am a pussy. Mountain biking takes nads…a nice set of big ole’ nuts - which I don’t have. The difference between road descending and mountain bike descending is a world of difference. Not to mention the ground was a tad wet and rooty at times. I was promised “flowy”… whatever that means.

While I was softpedeling down, the other guys were going lightspeed to shredtown (see I am already using MTB lingo!). It was all fun and games until our beloved route planner Lukas took a dive face first into a rock. Don’t worry - he was ok!

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LUIGI THE DOG

Everyone loves a trail dog, right?

During the first day of riding, as we rolled up to a farm we caught the attention of a large black hound. He instantly stood up and started running towards us. There was a “WTF” moment in the peloton… but this nasty raggedy dog ran straight to the front of the group and started escorting us up the path. We all thought it was fuckin’ rad and gave the dog the most cliche Italian name we could think if “Luigi”.

Well, Luigi didn’t give a damn about going back home. He seemed to pick up on the fact that Lukas had planned a ridiculous adventure for the day and was ready to be part of the team. James quickly fell in love with Luigi and became best pals…maybe a little too close at times. Time flew by and before we knew it Luigi had hung with us for 15km over a mountain and down the other side — all while at the front of the group charging ahead. He would even bark if we made wrong turns. This wasn’t his first rodeo.

I guess wearing a huge black coat and being old as fuck can be a handicap in one’s career goal of being a Trail Dog. Once we descended the mountain Luigi started to show signs up giving up on life. We arrived at a stream and he decided to take a nap in the middle of it. We start questioning our earlier enthusiasm to let Luigi join our party. At this point, Luigi was no longer running - he was barely walking. He was beat. We had to decide what to do. Here is where the cast’s true characters came out.

The Finn: Let’s tie him to a tree and find the owners, telling them where he is.

The Brit: Let’s get to a hut, find the owners, and get him home.

The Austrian: He is a dog. Let’s just leave him.

Luckily the Brit won the argument. We found a lakeside hut and after lots of Italian hand-gestures we were able to get ahold of his now pissed off owner. We all gave Luigi a last pet and went on our way. We would like to believe that Luigi’s time with us was the highlight of his life.

I wonder where Luigi is now…

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The End

Yeah, so I lived. I didn’t rip my spandex - and I kind of enjoyed using a CamelBack. In the end we had a fuckin’ blast. I left a bit more confident on the mountain bike. Next year will be a huge year for me exploring new terrains and trails on it. But for now, back to the slim tires, tight shorts, and leg shaving I am used to.

The dudes I went with were top notch and the routes were absolutely gorgeous. I can’t say how fuckin’ great it was. But, I will just stop typing now - it’s getting emotional <3.

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Footnotes

Most photos by Me but a few by Lukas Pilz and one by Philipp Hieslmair.

FootNotes

Most photos by Me but a few by Lukas Pilz and one by Philipp Hieslmair.

© 2026 John Braynard

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