The Austrian climb that dishes out pain.
Words: Laurence Kilpatrick Photography: Alice Gough
A horn can be a musical instrument that emits a clarion call of joy or a warning to all around. Or a horn can be a weapon used by bulls and goats to gore their enemies. Or, if you’re a cyclist, a horn can be a climb so steep, so unrelenting, that it feels like a stab to the legs and a klaxon to the self-esteem. The Kitzbüheler Horn in the Austrian Tyrol is just such a climb.
It may not look too threatening from the chocolate box town of Kitzbühel that lies at its foot, but the bucolic scenery hides a collection of unrelenting switchbacks that wind upwards for nearly 10km at an average gradient of over 12%, with spikes at over 20%, to just shy of 2,000m.
It’s a profile to strike fear into the hearts of amateurs and pros alike, and the Horn’s dead-end setup makes it perfect for a gruelling stage finale. The Tour of Austria has visited numerous times, with our very own Tour de France champion and climbing grandee Cadel Evans winning the mountain stage here in both 2001 and 2004, while Alexander Vlasov, currently with Red Bull-Bora-Hansgrohe, was quickest to the top in 2019. The finish line in these races is the Alpenhaus restaurant after 7km. Beyond this point the road narrows so significantly that taking a pro race up there would be foolhardy. But for the lone amateur rider, once past the Alpenhaus there’s another 2.4km of torture to go.
Horn through the ages
Having completed the climb and made your way back to the Alpenhaus, you’ll be able to soak up some of the history comprehensively detailed on the record board. It lists Anna Plattner as having set the women’s QoM time of 35min 27sec in 2022, while the first man to set a KoM was Swiss rider Beat Breu in 1983, who flew up the climb at 14kmh in 29min 1sec. A new course record was set in 2007 by Austrian pro Thomas Rohregger, who beat Beat’s time by half a minute to stop the clock at 28min 24sec.
Further back in time in the 1970s, sworn Austrian rivals Wolfgang Steinmayr and Rudi Mitteregger waged thigh-powered war on one another, each winning The Mountain Grand Prix of Europe, which took place here between 1971 and 1995 and was contested by both pros and amateurs.
Lucien Van Impe, who took the Tour de France mountains jersey six times, was challenged by Steinmayr to a duel up the Horn on 15 August 1975. In what must have been punishing summer heat, Steinmayr came up short, leaving Van Impe to set a then course record time of 30min 3sec. If riding it wasn’t bad enough, since 1979 it has also been used as a mountain run course. In 2000 Kiwi Jonathan Wyatt ran up it in 55min 58sec – just remember that when you’re watching your own time tick towards the hour mark.
Horn to be wild
Having left Kitzbühel and bridged the Walsenbach river, don’t be distracted by the almost Dolomitic grandeur of the Wilder Kaiser mountain range that lies due north. Instead, the road takes a hard right and heads eastwards into what looks like rolling green fields. It’s nigh-on impossible to miss the official start thanks to the presence of a large start sign that includes a map and a small electronic device that will give you a ticket when you hit the button, allowing you to record your official time. It’s Strava in physical form.
The Horn is only open from May to November, so depending on the time of day you choose to ride there is a good chance you’ll spend the start of the ride in deep shade as the sun is hidden behind the hills. Even in summer you can expect a slight shiver whipping round the ankles.
By the time you arrive at the wooden tollbooth after almost 2km (cars have to pay the princely sum of €25) you’ll already be feeling the steepness, but the truth is that the easy bit is over and you won’t be seeing single-digit gradients again for a long time. The next section provides some of the most brutal ascending in Europe. To compare, the last 6km of Spain’s notorious Angliru averages just below 13%. Here you have the same gradients but for nearly 8km. Enjoy.
To start with, there isn’t an awful lot to focus on apart from the heavenly smoothness of the tarmac, the lush greenery and the hush of the forest as your pedals try to tap into a rhythm on what is, mercifully, a predictable slope. It’s not until the road peeks its head out of the forest, emerging above the treeline after 5km, that the splendour of Ellmauer Halt reveals itself – at 2,344m the highest peak in its range.
Plunging back into tree cover, the hillside envelops you for the most brutal kilometre of the climb, averaging 15% with jabs of over 20%. Once out of the trees, views of the Kitzbühel Alps and the Leukental Valley open up, although at this point you may have trouble appreciating them fully through the fog of pain that will have almost certainly descended.
The sight of the Alpenhaus cafe is good for morale. It feels so close, but like steam dancing above a coffee it will disappear if you reach out to touch it. If you need motivation, it’s worth remembering that since 2021 the 216km Kitzbühel Cycling Marathon – including 4,600m of climbing – has had its final sprint at the Alpenhaus. For you, however, arrival at the cafe is merely a chance to regroup, enjoy the relative holiday of an 11% gradient, ignore the scent of strudel and suck in what’s left of the oxygen at 1,650m. There’s still 2.4km to the top.
Strictly forbidden to all but the most official cars, the road goes through a gate, becomes a tarmacked path and is now reserved for walkers, riders, marmots and goats. Be proud that only the true masochists/heroes haul themselves beyond the shade, shelter, coffee and beer on offer in the Alpenhaus.
Ain’t no stopping now
With another 300 vertical metres to climb, this is no final yodel; legs will be dripping with what looks like sweat but might actually be lactate; heart rate will be peaking and you will be pretty far along in the divorce proceedings with your cassette. But if cycling is ever worth the effort, then surely an empty road with almost 360° views of mountainous Austrian landscape is the best reason of all.
Beneath the rumble of cable cars, the sound of livestock tinkling away will be filling your ears, just as that odd taste of sucking a penny will be filling your lungs and mouth. Keep your eyes peeled for marmots burying themselves in holes and a rather ominous giant cross, which will be surrounded by walkers enjoying a view you are still suffering towards. Mercifully, climbing the Horn is so ludicrous that the final 500m at 8% feels pretty much like a false flat.
Once you and your bike crest the summit, set it down somewhere, hunker down in the shade or do a lethargic loop on foot, soaking in the panoramic views. There’s a cafe up here too, but the smart money is down at the Alpenhaus with its colossal hovering sun terrace: ‘One strudel and a cappuccino, danke herre.’
You’ve conquered the Kitzbüheler Horn, and now it’s time to blow your own trumpet.
