Biga Race 4th edition, Colle D’Agnello, 30 kilometers, 1750m elevation gain.
Somewhere in Italy there are two guys called Alessandro and Andrea.
Well there’s probably a bunch of guys called that, but two of them are very special - especially to us.
Andrea and Ale (as he’s usually referred to) operate the cargobike shop ‘Biga Bike’, and once a year they do something utterly insane. They gather the craziest cargobike nerds they know, and race up a mountain on cargobikes.
This race is called the ‘Biga Race’, and people travel from all over the world to be a part of it. And we, too, are always there.
Last year we thought it was hard. Four passes in the Dolomites, 2,200m of climbing in baking sun. When we crossed the finish line, we found Ale and told him, plainly: please don't make it harder next year. He looked at us and said, "Easy."
We didn't quite know what he meant by "Easy." But it stuck. Further, he threatened us with an "Oops" stamp on our Biga Race passport if we didn't show up. That alone sounded like a good enough reason to come back again for 2026.
Getting ready
This year, the routine was the same as always: land in Milano Friday, ride to the Biga Bike shop, and trust Ale and Andrea for the rest. Saturday morning we reach the camping ground, and we quickly realise: There's no way out of here that doesn't go uphill. First warning. But before we get to that, it’s time to set up camp and say hi - to the people we met last year, a few of our dear dealers and new faces who don't yet know what tomorrow has in store for them.
Larry vs Harry is still situated here in pancake-flat Denmark. So a warm-up the day before the climb felt like a sensible way to shake the legs loose and for Dante to dial in his camera settings. And there we were, climbing the first 16km of tomorrow's 30km route.
We got as far as Castello, sitting next to the beautiful lake of Pontechianale, which is exactly when the heavy rain decided to join us. So we rolled back down in the wet, testing the road quality on our Bullitts the hard way.
The 16km climb took us around 1 hour and 20 minutes. "Tomorrow’s going to be no problem," we confidently thought.
Spoiler: it was not, no problem.
That evening: Veggies and meat on the grill, 50+ cargobike nerds swapping theories about what the next day would throw at us, comparing setups and sharing laughs. Some headed into town for a few more beers and an aperitivo. By then, the Bullitt team was already in their tents, trying to get some sleep before the climb.
Race Day
It’s Sunday, it’s 8 a.m. Or 8:15. Maybe 8:30.
We're in Italy, and our Danish brains still haven't fully translated what "on time" means here. Off we go: 52 cargo bikes lined up nose to tail, all looking up at the Colle dell'Agnello we'd hopefully reach at some point later that day.
Remember those 16km that took 1 hour 20 the day before? They took 1 hour 20 again.
Four more kilometres and we hit the sign hanging over the road: "Colle dell'Agnello - 10km." Sounds short, right? Confidence growing, we'd already done 20!
However… we could not have been more wrong. Because just after was a smaller sign:
"14%."
And that's not the downhill kind of 14%. At least, not to start with.
The Route
Quick reminder of what Colle dell'Agnello actually is. It’s Hors Catégorie, Out of Category. The Tour de France crossed it in 2008 and again 2011. The Giro d'Italia in '94, '00, '07 and '16. Apparently Hannibal also came through here, with elephants. And if he could do it on elephants, why couldn't we do it on cargo bikes? It's also the third highest paved pass in the Alps; separated from first and second respectively, by just 14 and 26 height metres. Just a few historical and geographical facts to sit with. Now, back on the bike.
The trip was grueling. We were up against professional couriers, crazy Frenchies and Italians who regularly do this stuff for fun, and a general group of people with tree trunk sized legs.
But we stuck to it, fighting together with, not just the other cargo bike riders, but also carbon road bikers and the occasional hiker whom we met on the route. Each cheering one another on, us sometimes coming out ahead, sometimes falling behind.
1,000 vertical metres later, there we were: 50 cargo bikers at the French-Italian border, 2,744m up, cooling down, and cheering with a beer in hand before pointing the bikes back down again.
What took us hours to climb, we came back down in 40 minutes.
Oddly satisfying. Incredibly fast. Somewhat scary.
The Biga Race is turning into a classic Bullitt Challenge, we'd say. Part of our unofficial Race Tour around the world, organised by our dearest dealer, Biga Bike in Milano.
It all started with the simple conviction: cargo bikes make sense on our city streets.
It's ending somewhere else entirely - as our new normal. Climbing on cargo bikes, what others climb on road bikes. Because, well, why not?
We're already looking forward to next year's race. Sign up to our newsletter to stay in the loop. And don't worry, for in Ale’s words:
Next year will be easy.
Trust Ale's words.
Ale, Vincent and Andrea after the climb.
