Verona, 4/5/6 June

Food of the day: Lampone: raspberries. In season now and delicious.

Word of the day: Prego: You're welcome, or at your service. You hear this a lot!

Verona is another picture-book Italian city with cobbled streets, colourful buildings, and another church and piazza around every corner (almost!) and many beautiful flower boxes.

I took a ride round on a city tour while Marcus was cycling his 100 kms in the hills outside the town. It was a great way to get an overview of the city without being too exhausting. When the drive was finished I just sat in the main piazza, opposite the amphitheatre and watched the world go by.

This city thrives on tourism, especially from fans of Shakespeare. There are scads of romantics lining up to see Juliette's balcony and tomb, and there are guest houses and a street named in honour of the famous play. We wandered round a few streets in the late afternoon, and came upon a group of men singing Italian folk and popular songs, a cappella, in a little piazza. The rain interrupted an enjoyable entertainment, and everyone scattered to find shelter. It was quite an easy city to visit "on the surface", to have a quiet wander and not actually go into any buildings. Starting to suffer from overload - so much to absorb is very tiring.

Ride report from Marcus.

The Granfondo Damiano Cunego is a mass participation, timed event on closed roads. It's one of the top 10 such events apparently. Nearly all the participants were Italian, with Australians the next largest group, numbering 12. The 4,000 of us started in waves - elite first - in town and the first part was very exciting, riding through the old town in closed off roads with spectators calling out and clapping. This doesn't usually happen when I go bike riding! Over the cobbled sections, there were lots of dropped bidons, jiggled out of their cages.

We continued out of the city and up a river valley towards the mountains, by this time in a settled pattern and maintaining an average a little over 30. Then to the big climb, which was 10k at about 6%. As usual, this sorted things out. The road was very appealing, mostly shaded, like so many lower level passes, and of course no traffic except a few support vehicles. Once at the top, we rolled up and down through various mountain-top towns. One of them was a classic - maybe 30 buildings with tiny wriggly streets, unpaved, and one old gentleman placidly going about his business. Then back down the long hill, where I reached over 70kmh trying to pick up time. Only one rider passed me on the 20k downhill, and after feeling a bit skittish trying to match him around the bends, I let him go and enjoyed the rest of the ride. At the bottom a good bunch of about 20 formed and we kept a pretty good pace back into town, through all the intersections with police holding up the traffic for us, to finish under the arch near the stadium.

A week in Bassano del Grappa, Veneto

Food of the day:

Asparagus: Bassano is famous for a special white, stringless variety. Tastes the same as the green.

Vitello e tonnollo - this slices of veal with a tuna sauce and capers. A delightful meal accompanied by spinach and aqua frizzante.

Word of the day:

Secco - dry. We asked our waiter, Silvano, for white house wine. He offered two choices - one was unrecognisable and the other was "secco". I interpreted this as meaning "sweet" and so I said "non-secco". Unfortunately I wasn't paying enough attention to Anne, who was a step ahead of me and had realised that the word in fact meant dry, as it is basically the same as the French equivalent, which she knew.

Frizzante - no special magic here - just a lovely onomatopoeic word, meaning fizzy. All meals come with the choice of aqua naturale or aqua frizzante. We mostly choose the latter. With the whole country peppered with mountains, there is a new source and label in almost every town.

Bassano is a very pleasant town - not too big and not too touristy. Of course there are the some well-known tourist areas, but they are manageable. Bassano is not an overwhelming place as others such as the more popular cities of Rome, Florence etc can be. It was an easy drive from our little village into town, and parking was not too much of  a hassle.

 

There is an old covered bridge, the Ponte Vecchio, with sloping channels of stone on either side of the path, and a new bridge. The river is wide and swiftly flowing in parts, with some geese and ducks paddling round. Most tourists seem to be other Italians or Germans, not too many Americans. We heard a couple of Australian voices. Bicycles are v common in the town. We saw one little old granny, about 80 yrs old, wearing a frilly dress and court shoes, no helmet, ride out into the traffic, two lanes and driving fairly fast, but she came to no harm. Generally the drivers are quite courteous to bike riders - there are so many cycles, and the roads are so narrow, they are used to slowing down for them.

 

There are the usual piazzas and some grand old buildings in Bassano. One of the old palazzos has been converted into a museum, where we saw two excellent exhibitions on ceramics, another thing apart from asparagus that Bassano is famous for, and printing. There was a renowned printing family in the town for centuries. The Remondini family were an important employer in town and beyond, printing and publishing educational, religious, government and other material. There was an interesting story about their expansion. They provided itinerant salesmen with experience and contacts in southern Germany with stock and funds, and the salesmen would wander around, sometimes for years, selling the goods, until their stocks ran out. The reach of this network ended up expanding to distant places such as Russia, until at one point the local priest commented that his parishioners might not be seen for up to 4 years! One whole side of the main square still consists of the buildings formerly used by the Remondini business.

 

On our last day there we bought some delicious local produce from the weekly market that takes over several streets in the centre of town. Perfect for a picnic lunch. Sometimes a simple lunch is much the best.

Ride report from Marcus

We had a better day on the bikes today (Tuesday). Daniele met us again at 9am and we played out another mime in which he asked my opinion as to whether I thought the Col di Gallo would be a good idea. Even though I slowly realised (from mime) that a Gallo was a chook, this was of no help in determining the suitability of the proposed itinerary. Without any ability to do much more advanced communication than sign language, what could I do but say "yes".

It turned out to be a good call. We rode along the river valley and crossed to the east about 8k north. At that point we went through the small town of Cismon del Grappa, and then began to climb along a closed off road, now reserved for non-motorised passage. Like so many of the climbs we'd done, this was windy and shady - a lovely combination - and hard enough to be worthwhile without being too taxing. After a few kilometres we hit the peak and then dropped for a while to a very beautiful man-made lake, complete with the usual sights of church tower, terracotta roofing and so on, and with the added extra of a beach complete with beach hut and the name "Rocca Beach Club". Two brave souls were doing Australian crawl, bogan-style with their heads out of the water, out towards a pole.

After a while more we approached the small town of Arsie and a view of the chicken that lay in wait. It was another leafy, windy climb, and in about 45 minutes we were passed by only two vehicles and saw no-one else - just a few seemingly deserted farm houses.

The road back down was delightful - at least 5 or 6 kilometres entirely to ourselves, almost all in the shade. Near the bottom, we passed some WW1 fortifications built to defend against the Austro-Hungarians. They in turn had been built in a much older strategic location - the road was the site of the Via Augusta, the ancient road from Bavaria to Venice.

All in all today's ride was 50k with barely a vehicle, on generally smooth roads with the two major climbs both shaded for much of their length. We did about 800m climbing in the 50k, so it was pretty hilly - a bit more than Anne wanted. Other than that, it was just right.

We arrived back in town shortly after 1pm and had a delightful lunch of prosciutto and melon, veal with a creamy tuna sauce and capers (an odd combination from an Australian perspective, but very fine tasting), and yummy spinach. Beer for Marcus and aqua naturale for Anne. This afternoon is for washing and relaxing before a day in town tomorrow.

Brenta River Valley, Sunday 29 May

Food of the day: Polenta - a common food in this area. Often presented in a pressed block about as big as a child's play block, it makes a pleasing if bland accompaniment to the main ingredients on the plate. It doesn't seem to have the personality to take centre stage itself.

Word of the day: Campanalismo - the affection for one's local bell tower. When in Italy, the way to see bell towers is this: find one and look at it, then turn your head less than 180d and you'll see another. Walk to that second one and repeat the procedure. You will be able to traverse the country this way! Campanilismo alludes to a provincial orientation which seems quite pervasive, and a source of pride and identify perhaps greater than the notion of being Italian.

After arriving late on Saturday following the Passo Gavia epic, we started our week-long guided cycling holiday with a short ride along the Brenta river valley with Elena. The Brenta hurtles down towards Florence through a valley that, at this point, is typically a few kilometres wide. It is very fertile, with farming taking up most of the space between the small towns. The river water is clear and, in the stiller sections, takes on a beautiful pale steely green. 

It's a lovely place to ride. Sticking to the valley floor, it's pretty flat with a very quiet road linking all the towns and usually within sight of the river, which then meets a "bicycle road" (ie bike path) which you can follow all the way to Germany! Our hotel overlooked the road, and we saw tons of cyclists going to and fro every day. Some of them were obviously cyclo-tourists, with pannier bags and so on, who may well have come from Germany. In several cases, they spoke German.

The German influence is felt here. The main beer in restaurants is a German beer, Paulaner, and when businesses choose to promote their services in a second language it's just as often German as it is the usual choice of English. About 10 kilometres up river from our hotel are fortifications installed by the Italians against the Austro-Hungarians in WW1, as this was the location of the border. 

On one of our later rides, our guide Samuele explained that the adjacent northern area of Trentino Alto Aldige was better off because they had retained a degree of financial autonomy as part of the post WW2 settlement which brought them under Italian governance. He made these comments in quite a polically aware way - interesting coming from an 18 yo. Everywhere you go, you are reminded of the strong regional identification that Italians have, and the way that they like to contrast the attributes and merits of different areas and discuss the equity of their treatment by the national government. Both provincial identification and wider political awareness seem higher than in Australia. One week later, in Verona, I participated in a mass bike ride. As we rode out the start gate, the announcer called out the names of the provinces represented by the riders.

PS - the official explanation of the autonomy of TAA, from their website, is introduced as follows.

The origin of our autonomy goes back many centuries, and is made up of complex events, traditions, civic customs and rules which the communities have developed over time and jealously guarded throughout the course of their many political and social upheavals. And it is this that explains the attitude of the people of Trentino to the question of self-rule, to doing things their own way: it is not a case of selfish isolation, far from it – as a matter of fact, they have always maintained a dialogue with the world beyond their frontiers, from the remote border regions to the Government in Rome, and indeed to the European Union.

Passo Gavia, Saturday 28 May

Food of the day: Olive pane - olive bread. We bought two sticks in a little shop at a town we weren't even planning to visit, and combined them with other bits and pieces for a great picnic in the mountains.

Word of the day: Allora - so, used as a preposition to a question or a suggestion - eg, so, what will it be? A very common expression in commerce and in social settings.

We woke to fresh snow ringing the valley. The tops of the mountains here approach 3,000m and you can see a dozen or so of them from the hotel window. The sky was clear though, so I was keen to get onto the bike and take one on. It wasn't to be the Stelvio, as that was still closed, so it was to the Passo Gavia instead - a climb of around 1,300m over 22k.

The climbing starts straight away. For the first few k's it's through pine forests, along a rushing snow-melt river. Then it turns and starts winding up through snowy forests. On a sunny morning, with almost no cars, this was magical. Fresh snow plip-plopping, the occasional bird sound, and nothing else but the road and the silent vistas towards incredible peaks.

The descent on the other side, to Ponte de Legno, is shorter at 17k and drops to about the same height. So it's average is 7.6%. Most of the road on the northern side (my uphill) is rough because of snow, and it's narrow and windy. On the southern side, it's the same at the top, but about half way down the surface improves and the switchbacks are longer - then you can fly! You get to beautiful shady trees eventually, and with the great road and almost no traffic, it's magic. Ponte de Legno is not actually the bottom - you can keep on rolling if you want - but it's a pretty town with a snow-melt river rushing between cobbled streets. So a nice place to finish.

(PS for the cycling fans, there were quite a few cyclists going up both sides. Just ahead of me was a group led by a pro from the Schleck brothers new team - that is, they were behind me at first, then just ahead of me, and then out of sight til I got to the top. I'd seen said pro at Bormio before I started, and made a scornful comment to Anne about the fact that he was all decked out in pro team kit. I had to eat those words, didn't I? Pro team kit is all the go here - nearly everyone wears gear proclaiming something, and everyone checks each other out as they pass. They typically don't greet each other, unilke the custom in Australia.)

This was a very special day for Anne too! She still trembles (just a little now) when the conversation turns to that long, twisting drive up and then down again. The road is very narrow, to the point that sometimes you just can't see how two cars can pass. Then there are the drops into the frozen wastes - enormous and steep. The views too of course, although somehow it sounded like she wasn't spending too much time admiring them.

Bagni Vecchi, Bormio - Friday 27 May

Food of the day: Medallions of deer. This was the primo patti of the traditional menu at the Bagni Vecchi (old baths) hotel in Bormio. The courses were 1) medallions of cured deer and beef 2) noodles made with dark flour 3) rolled up sausage with polenta 4) semifreddo with sliced apple and sauce. Everything delicious, with strong flavours. The deer was quite tender and delicate.

Word of the day: Pioggia - rain. Lots of it today!

After a morning walk around Bellagio, we caught the car ferry to the eastern side of the lake under low skies. We then drove for 3 hours or so in the rain until we reached Bormio, in the Valtellina. Bormio is a ski and alpine recreation centre. Lots of Italians seem fond of it, as they light up when it's mentioned.

The real attraction of Bormio for me was that it offered a starting point for the legendary Stelvio Pass, the highest alpine pass In Italy, and a focus of legend in the cycling world. The plan was to ride it (and Anne to provide vehicle back-up) on the following day, then continue on via Bolzano.

We had an unexpected highlight at the end of the day. Anna had told us about the old Roman baths, where you could take the soothing waters looking down over the valley and towards the encircling mountains. We hadn't figured out how to fit that in to the itinerary, but when we found all but the most unattractive accommodation unavailable, we decided to stay at the baths hotel. It's beautiful - think Hydro Majestic if very well-presented, with views of an Alpine valley and the most incredible set of baths.

The baths are both indoor and outdoor, and consist of numerous linked chambers, caves, steam rooms, showers, pools and so on. There must be over 30 different individual locations within the complex. We spent an hour or so just sampling this, with the last 20 minutes in the open air pool, with dusk setting in and light rain falling. Magic.

Dinner was a highlight today too. The restaurant is first class and offers a traditional menu as well as another one (non-traditional maybe?). See food of the day notes above. All in all, the hotel was a special treat and a lovely way to end a pretty long and tiring day.

Thursday, 26 May, Giro d"Italia, Aviatico

Food of the day: Red wine. We took a small bottle - lovely how you can buy these in supermarkets in Italy - up to our picnic to watch the Giro. Screwtops are rare in Italy, so the corkscrew it was. Marcus now has several deep red spots on this favourite cycling jersey to remind him of his day at the Giro!

Word of the day: Andiamo - let's go. Such an optimistic, inviting word! The sense of anticipation it invokes. I love it.

Funny how things don't work out as planned, but can work out even better if you keep an open mind. This whole adventure was inspired by staying up late in the cold winter last year to watch web streaming of the Giro d'Italia. It was a magnificent event: all kinds of weather and scenery, from flat beachside parades to the highest of the Italian alps; glorious sunny days riding channels cut through snow; the tifosi (fans) clamouring for their heroes and encouraging every rider from the first to the last; a brutal rainy day on dirt roads when the hard men came out, and Cadel Evans proved himself a worthy world champion by taking and maintaining the lead along the cobbles of the final ascent; and finally, the demise of the still valiant Evans on the Zoncolan at the combined hand of Basso and Nibali. What a drama! So I decided that I had to go and watch it for myself.

When we got here it became evident that it's not that simple. Off the autostrada, getting around can be quite slow. Not only that, but there have been so many other interesting things! So in the end, we decided on just two days of the Giro, and even those not the big days. We set off at about lunch after a walking tour of Bellagio (more about that later), heading in the direction of Bergamo and thence up to the day's major climb, Passo di Ganda. We'd picked a road that ascended the back of the mountain, thinking to avoid traffic and road closures. This promised to be a drive of about two hours - I had rejected the 15 minute option of watching the peleton flying along the flat nearby roads, preferring instead the promise of a real fight up the climb.

Near Bergamo, it got a bit confusing for a while and we accidentally took the slow road to the valley. This turned out better than expected, as it was the Giro route. For about 20 km we followed the route. It was festooned with pink banners, Italian flags and ribbons. All the way, hundreds of fluoro vest men and carabinieri were getting ready to block the roads. They had little paddle pop stick signs, like the people at airports that flag plans into dock, and were using them to direct people at intersections. Although we thought that we were at least an hour ahead of the race, many side roads were already closed, and quite a few fans were gathered. For a while we only managed about 30-40kmh - not enough, since the peleton could be expected to be quicker than that. The prospect of messing the cutoff loomed - that plus the general sense of being part of the whole process made it an exciting drive!

Well we did make it to the beginning of the mountain. After winding through yet another group of narrow, cobbled lanes, we started rising. Hundreds of cyclists had the same idea, and we passed them slowly through curve after curve. About 4k before the top we reached the town of Aviatico, set prettily near the top of a steep slop with views of many valleys to the north, including the town of San Pellegrino Terme, where the race would end. At this point the police had closed the road to cars. We could either ride the rest of the way or join the crowd in Aviatico, and chose the latter. This was a great place to wait, eating our lunch on the grass with all the other excited fans, while admiring the distant valleys and peaks.

Eventually, the race's imminent arrival was heralded by the first vehicles - dozens of promotional vans selling Giro merchandise packs. They drive along holding the packs out the window and stop for anyone who wants one - like ice cream vans. After a while the police started shooing them on, a sign that the real action would soon start. Then followed about 50 team and official cars and then the quiet before the storm. It is a bit like waiting for a storm - you hear the helicopters before the riders arrive, and when they do, it sizzles like rain on a hot road - hissing and whirring, the wind of the rushing bunch, the flash of bright colours.

The first sign of the impact of the climb was the distance between the approaching copters - meaning that there must be a breakaway. Sure enough, three riders came around the corner and flew by, urged on by the fans, leaning in, shouting and gesticulating. Then quite a long break before a few small groups of two, three or even single riders. Finally, a bunch arrived, including the race leader Contador. I had no idea who the dozen or so riders preceding that bunch were, but Contador's presence behind them was a sure sign that they were not a threat to his position. Then various other stragglers and two more bunches. All up there seemed to be about 10 minutes from head to tail.

The three leaders maintained their position for the final 25 kilometres and the green Liquigas rider, Eros Capecchi, achieved his first stage win with a clever tactical victory of the more renowned Marco Pinotti and the Dutchman Kevin Seeldraeyers.

Afterwards, Anne and I rode along the course for bit. It followed the ridge and the road was freshly laid for the race. We pulled in at a crowded bar and watched the finish. I asked a man who the riders were but we couldn't understand each other. Something in his accent gave him away so I asked whether he spoke German, which he did, and we had a lot more success that way. I think the crowd was disappointed that Pinotti did not win, as he is a local rider, and the bar emptied very quickly after the denouement.

Wednesday, 25 May, Madonna del Ghisallo

Wednesday

Food of the day: gelato at the cafe in Como - lovely refreshing end to a solid day of cycling.

Word of the day: Cieglie - lovely cherries, which are in season now. We bought some from a man with a fruit truck.

Up at 6, trying to pack the bikes into the car without waking anyone in the hotel (loud, crunchy gravel under the balconies). Sitting in the back of the car holding the bikes so they don't fall over or crash into each other, feeling queasy as we lurch round yet another bend avoiding oncoming cars by a hairsbreadth. I can feel my hair turning grey. Drive round Como looking for parking - lots of traffic, not many parking spaces. A hitch - Marcus has left his socks behind, so we ride to a Carrefours supermarket we passed on the way in, and buy a pair. Next stop is a cafe for breakfast.

We head off to ride the mighty Madonna del Ghisallo fortified by a cup of coffee and a brioche! Back at the hotel they are tucking into fresh fruits, cereals, cold meats and cheeses, eggs, all sorts of breads and pastries - but only after 8am.

Heading out of Como is not much fun - lots of traffic and narrow roads - this is the constant theme of cycling in Italy. We pass through some very quaint and attractive villages along the shores of the lake however, and some stretches are not too chaotic. Hop on the ferry at Cadenabbia and cross the lake to Bellagio. Lovely and cool on the water, and a smooth crossing.

Off on the other side, and after a few unsuccessful attempts to find a public toilet, head straight up the hill to begin the long-anticipated challenge. It is now the middle of the day, since we started much later than we had planned, and 29 deg. I am feeling very hot, and have to stop before boiling over. Head off again, hoping all the training will pay off. It is definitely a challenge, although there are a few stretches of easing up. I have to stop twice more, and walk a few metres before finding an obligingly placed driveway from which to start up the climb again. It is a great relief to round the final corner, and to have conquered the objective. We roll into the driveway and meet some Irishmen - a bunch of friends who have just finished their second ascent. One of them kindly takes a photo for us. Inside the church is just like a museum full of bicycle paraphernalia, with a shrine thrown in as well. Outside there are spectacular views, and a cafe. It is definitely time to sit down and eat. Then there is a long descent back to Como and the traffic, finishing with a gelato by the lake.

After we got home, Marcus went down to the lake for a swim. He said it was lovely in.