Crossing the Alps is easy. Just pick one of the major passes that traverses the majestic mountain range, set the cruise control and go. If you don’t look out the window too much you might not even be distracted by the gorgeous scenery — jagged snow-capped peaks, thick belts of green forests and mountain meadows dotted by wooden homes with peaked roofs and Swiss-style trim.

Even if you do marvel at the scenery, you’re still only getting half the picture. Most of the passes have been used for millennia for trade, war and expansion. Originally blazed during the Iron Age, the passes have been hotly contested by tribes, warlords and governments ever since. Nowadays, they carry thousands of cars and trucks a day, criss-crossing the continent, most drivers stopping only to refuel. There are rewards, however, for travellers who get off the main road and take a side trip or two.

On a recent trip from Innsbruck, Austria to Verona, Italy, I drove the E45 motorway that uses the Brenner Pass to cross the Alps. I was eager to get to Verona and my hotel bed. However, I began to notice castles of various sizes, complexity and opulence near the road and became intrigued.

There are some 350 castles in the region bisected by the E45. Located in the northernmost point of Italy, the area is called the Alto Adige, but it is also known as South Tyrol in Austria and Germany. In fact, many of the place names in Alto Adige sound German and the architecture has a definite Teutonic feel. Not only that but the majority of residents speak German rather than Italian. The region has also been a centre of international intrigue for centuries.

Historians believe the Romans named the Brenner Pass after a local tribe and used the pass for trade and the relentless expansion of the Empire. Over time, the region became part of the Austrian Empire and then the Austro-Hungarian Empire. After the First World War, it was ceded to Italy, but a large population of Germans remained. When the Fascists seized power in the 1920s, they forced assimilation of their foreign-speaking subjects, often with brute force and murder. Adolf Hitler’s rise to power in the 1930s gave hope to some Germans in the region that he might one day be their liberator. Fascist Italy’s pact with Nazi Germany guaranteed the region would remain Italian. So, the area has more baggage than a soap opera diva.

To the English-speaking traveller, the bilingual and sometimes trilingual signs and place names are confusing. We became even more perplexed when we stopped for a coffee and some of the locals were dressed in Germanic/Austrian style garb with green felt Tyrolean hats and boiled wool sweaters.

Having crossed the Italian border, we expected at least some Italian influence. I couldn’t tell you exactly what — a Tuscan cypress, red tiled roofs, Armani–but something.

We had exited the E45 around Villandro to find a mountainside castle that looked especially intriguing. Because of all the switchbacks, we lost track of the castle, but we decided to keep driving upward anyway. Though it was a misty day, every so often we got a glimpse of the whole valley with the motorway winding along its floor.

We couldn’t believe that we could still be climbing, but every time we looked, there was still road and mountainside above. The road became increasingly narrow as we ascended. Near the motorway, the hills were lined with fruit orchards and vineyards, clinging to the slope with bark-covered fingers.

At the top, we were so far above the motorway, we couldn’t even hear it. Only the susurrus of wind and the chirps of mountain birds reached our ears. A stream of cars and trucks moved along the distant motorway like bubbles in a hose. We stood and watched awhile, glad for taking the scenic route.