The Napapijri Bulletin is a monthly editorial project that tells the extraordinary stories of extraordinary people. Cultural adventurers, friends of the brand, modern explorers: each month, The Bulletin celebrates those who dare to abandon the known maps to chart unexpected territories.

Irene Saderini and the Poetry of Motorsport

Pilot, director, and cultural adventurer, Irene Saderini moves through motorsport as a space of connection between movement, environment, and storytelling. From the precision of the tracks to the powerful emptiness of the desert, her journey combines expertise, listening, and respect for the places she crosses. A conscious way of exploring and narrating the journey, where performance gives way to presence, teamwork, and shared responsibility.

From the circuit to the endless sand: the track is synonymous with speed and precision, the desert with endurance and adaptation. How do you reconcile these two worlds in your life: the frenzy of racing and the unpredictable rhythm of the Dakar?

I believe that, deep down, one reflects the other, almost complementary. They’re not so distant because they share a very important value: clarity.In both worlds, the most important thing is to stay present in the moment, not get discouraged by problems or breakdowns—which always happen—and keep thinking about reaching the next corner, the next note, the next stage.

The desert as adversary and ally: facing thousands of kilometers in a hostile environment requires respect and strategy. What does it mean for you to enter such an extreme territory, and what are the responsibilities of those who cross it?

More than ever today, the first thought for everyone should be not to leave traces of our passage, right?Racing through canyons and deserts, we are all culturally respectful and make sure not to leave even a bottle cap behind. We know we are guests of the desert. For me personally, it’s almost a matter of karma: if I respect the desert, maybe the desert will be kind to me.

From the circuit to the endless sand: the track is synonymous with speed and precision, the desert with endurance and adaptation. How do you reconcile these two worlds in your life: the frenzy of racing and the unpredictable rhythm of the Dakar?

I believe that, deep down, one reflects the other, almost complementary. They’re not so distant because they share a very important value: clarity.In both worlds, the most important thing is to stay present in the moment, not get discouraged by problems or breakdowns—which always happen—and keep thinking about reaching the next corner, the next note, the next stage.

The desert as adversary and ally: facing thousands of kilometers in a hostile environment requires respect and strategy. What does it mean for you to enter such an extreme territory, and what are the responsibilities of those who cross it?

More than ever today, the first thought for everyone should be not to leave traces of our passage, right?Racing through canyons and deserts, we are all culturally respectful and make sure not to leave even a bottle cap behind. We know we are guests of the desert. For me personally, it’s almost a matter of karma: if I respect the desert, maybe the desert will be kind to me.

The route and the symbol: the Dakar is not just a race, it’s a path that leaves marks in the history of motorsport. What does it mean for you to be part of this “map,” and what does opening a new route in the desert represent?

There are moments in the race when I look away from the instruments and the tracks, lift my head, look farther, and feel moved. In those moments, I realize I am truly in Nothing.An absolute, beautiful nothing that can make you feel infinitely small out there, but at the same time exactly in the right place.The desert in my story is like the ocean—it’s a sea that moves inside me.

The team as a compass: how important is the team in an adventure like this, and what does solidarity mean when every mistake can decide whether the journey continues or ends?

In the toughest rally in the world, it’s unthinkable to reach the finish line on your own—it would be impossible.The mechanics feel they are racing just like us and with us. Every time I wave to them from the window when I leave in the morning and return in the evening, I feel something hard to explain, because I know they’ll be waiting all day, checking if we’re still in the race and if everything works. And when I arrive, I know they won’t sleep all night to make sure I can start again.

Machines and freedom: you’ve driven Formula 3 cars, Dakar trucks, and enduro bikes. What is your relationship with engines? Are they tools of performance or companions in your quest for freedom?

My first true love has always been motorcycles, starting with my little 50cc that allowed me teenage escapes from home, then later the off-road ones.I believe the bike somehow speaks to you, maybe because your belly rests on the fairing and you feel all the engine’s vibrations. My passion for cars came later, and vintage cars in particular fascinate me. Putting those old machines back on track and making them run feels like giving them life again and preserving their soul—I feel they have their own personality.Modern cars are fun to drive, but with all that electronics, a bit of my poetry gets lost.

Machines and freedom: you’ve driven Formula 3 cars, Dakar trucks, and enduro bikes. What is your relationship with engines? Are they tools of performance or companions in your quest for freedom?

My first true love has always been motorcycles, starting with my little 50cc that allowed me teenage escapes from home, then later the off-road ones.I believe the bike somehow speaks to you, maybe because your belly rests on the fairing and you feel all the engine’s vibrations. My passion for cars came later, and vintage cars in particular fascinate me. Putting those old machines back on track and making them run feels like giving them life again and preserving their soul—I feel they have their own personality.Modern cars are fun to drive, but with all that electronics, a bit of my poetry gets lost.