After our day off in Innsbruck, the first few miles of the Brenner Pass seemed just as difficult as when we first jumped on the bikes three weeks ago in England. However, once beyond the famous Olymipc ski jump, with a graveyard ominously situated at its base, we made fair pace up the climb. As George and Dave raced for the summit in a bid to be 'King of the Mountains', Chris - the acting Domestique - faded slightly following his ski the day before. There was some confusion as to where the top might be (was it the border station, the motorway services or the railway siding in this, not the most scenic of passes?). A dead heat declared, we glided down the other side, managing to ride far enough away from the busy road to find a pleasant patch of forest in which to camp.

We could not leave the Alps without conquering a proper pass, and so the following day we set out to climb over the 1636m Kreuzbergpass. We rode past several ski resorts as we ascended, a few of which the Italien army had taken up residence in as part of a 'training' exercise. A cunning break saw George move clear of Chris' chase to claim the second mountain stage. We enjoyed the descent, meandering along the forested valley between craggy Dolomite peaks.

One thing which our journey has enabled us to observe is European driving styles. Unlike in France, respect for cyclists was non-existant as Italian drivers swerved past us on blind bends. However, this was soon forgotton once we settled down for our daily café stop as, without a doubt, the Italiens make the best hot chocolate in Europe. Underneath the mound of cream, the chocolate is so thick and rich you can eat it with a spoon. The people we met were also friendly, most notably a lady in the supermarket who even gave us a special discount.

On our third day in Italy, we awoke in snow, braving the cold again as we attempted to dismantle the frozen tent poles. However, by the end of the day this was but a distant memory. Having sped down a valley into the morning sun, it wasn't long before we were crossing the grassy plains bordering the Adriatic, with the mountains simply a backdrop falling away behind us. In true English style, as soon as we were beyond the snowline and the temperatures were well above zero, off came the thermal layers and on went the t-shirts and sunglasses. Enjoying the novelty of flat roads, we made great progress; by late afternoon (and after 150km) we were winding our way along the coast towards Trieste in weather similar to that of an English summer. Today, we have a chance to explore this afluent city and maybe even find an ice-cream, before we move on to the unknown of Slovenia and Croatia.