Greetings from Verona

Summer sunshine in the Alps

So dawned the final day. We’ve stayed in some pretty good hotels on this trip and last night’s, the Hotel Garni Caminetto at the ski resort of Campo Carlo Magno, was no exception. As the others were getting ready for the off, I sat outside the hotel in the glorious early summer sunshine, gazed up at the mountains and reflected on this cycling thing about which we all seem so passionate and the brilliant few days we had spent together.

I must confess I’m a bit obsessed with road biking. It’s a lot to do with keeping fit, I find the older you get the more important this becomes. It’s not just about mental and physical health though, there's still a great sense of satisfaction in planning and achieving physical challenges, whether this is keeping up with the horribly young and desperately fit Sudanese guys in the desert or climbing the 19,715 meters of mountains which we did this week (which incidentally, gets us comfortably into the stratosphere!)

A stratospheric bike ride

There's also something about coming from a long line of engineers which means that for me, I find the technology associated with biking fascinating, you can spend a lot of time and money trying get the optimum performance from your much-loved carbon fibre sled (although it’s always worth remembering that less expensive performance gains can usually be achieved by simply staying off the beer and pies). At the end of the day it’s about the chaps. Whether it’s the members of the Sudanese Amateur Cyclists or the excellent fellows with whom I’ve spent this week, cyclists always seem positive and optimistic. They are ‘glass is half full’ sort of people who understand how to have fun. They’ll cheer you up even after the most awful of weeks, even the ones who are almost pensioners.

Seriously good down-hills

We were starting out at the top of a mountain today so it was nice to get straight into a big descent rather than the usual climb. Carving down wide, empty, mountain roads on a crystal clear Alpine morning, throwing the bike around at impossible angles - is just the best thing.

Then onto the valley floor for a few straight miles before getting into the last climb of the trip, up to Passo Durone. This hill started off with a really nasty steep kick up at over 15%, but eventually turned into a gentler climb up to 1010 meters. Coffee at the top and then another long descent before we got our first glimpse of Lake Garda in the distance. We enjoyed a final pasta lunch by the water’s edge before a 30-mile pedal along the lake side.

Lunch by the (flat) lake

Now here’s a question. As Harley’s got rather shorter legs than most people, does this mean he has to turn his pedals more often to cover the same distance? The consensus was that he probably did and that consequently he should be awarded his long-awaited ice cream. As Chris got stuck into his wild-berry and vanilla surprise, he spent some time pondering some other difficult questions, such as whether he was too old to have a pony tail and how it was it seemed like we’d been cycling up-hill for the past 20 miles. “How much higher is the southern end of the lake than the northern end?” he asked... We finished our run down lake Garda and then back onto more excellent Italian cycle paths which tracked along the river Adige down to Verona.

The River Adige in Verona

We picked our way through the narrow streets of this beautiful renaissance city, busy with the hustle and bustle of late Saturday afternoon street markets until we found the impressive Roman amphitheatre, with our hotel just next door. Sue Burfoot and Alison Bell had just arrived and we all retired to the bar for a few well-earned beers.

Some well-earner beers

We all had a great night out at a restaurant the specialises in something called polenta, a sort of tasteless brown porridgey goo that the Veronese seem to love, however a great bottle of rather nice of Gewürztraminer made up for it.

Sunday morning was spent dismantling the bikes and a quick wander around the city before I headed off to the airport for the long trip home to Khartoum. So thank you guys, 515 miles along and 12.25 miles up! A brilliant week, look forward to the ride next year when contrary to popular belief, Graham will still only be ‘almost a pensioner’!

Next year?

Greetings from Madonna di Campiglio

Whilst going over the Stelvio pass yesterday was certainly a bit of a challenge, the plan for today was actually a bit tougher. The idea was to do three pretty serious climbs the first of which, The Gavia pass at 2652 meters, is only 100 meters less than Stelvio.
We had a rather inauspicious start, as we were getting ready after breakfast, Graham somehow managed to let all the air out of his tyres and Chris’ bike fell over and bent the gear derailleur. Spanners and pumps out and after some emergency repairs, we were off at about 08:30.

First climb of the day

The road up to the Gavia pass is narrow and twisty as it picks its way up the side of the mountain. Today, for some reason, there really were swarms of German motorcyclists out.  So much so, that what had been a noisy irritant on previous days became bloody dangerous today. You’d be pedalling round an acute corner on this narrow road, only to be confronted with a couple of blokes on these huge machines who seemed to think they were the dominant players in some sort of medieval joust.

Our irritation seemed to be shared by a good number of fellow lycra clad heroes and heroines on the road. Lots of individuals and groups of cyclists of all ages, were heading for the pass – a couple were even older than Graham (who’s nearly a pensioner).

The cafe at the top of the pass was busy, lots of bikes (with and without engines) and a long wait of a rather expensive cappuccino.

Chilly at the Gavia pass

The descent was really interesting, I remember on a previous trip, Chris had left his bike hanging off the railings on one high mountain corner, making out he’d disappeared over the edge (ha! Ha!). No such fun and games here, the danger was all too real. A tiny road with an awful surface clinging to the side of the mountain and no barriers between you and an untimely death - should you be hit by one of the motorcyclists, who seemed to think it was amusing to ride 2 abreast on a road hardly wide enough to walk down; you couldn’t let your concentration slip for one second.

Bad roads, great views

This down was swiftly followed by the next up. The road to the 1883 meter Tonale pass was a real relief. Wide, good tarmac with only a few of those sudden, leg killing kicks up. In a great bit of timing we got to the restaurant at the top with seconds to spare before the threatening sky unleashed a hail storm of truly Alpine dimensions. Another pasta lunch looking longingly out of the window hoping that what had now turned into a downpour would stop. No such luck. Waterproofs on and into the driving rain for a cold wet trip down the mountain.

... and the rain came

By the time we got to the bottom, Graham was spectacularly grumpy. He explained to Harley that at his age (he’s nearly a pensioner) his body which has suffered years of self inflicted abuse, can only take on enough oxygen to service either his legs or his brain, there’s simply not enough for both. For Graham, this explains why, when the hills become steep, he becomes emotionally challenged. An interesting theory, not one worthy of too much academic study we concluded.

A subject worthy of study?

The last hill took us up to Campo Carlo Magno at 1702 meters. Hotel Garni Caminetto is good, big comfy rooms and all sitting round, glued to our phones like a bunch of teenagers.

Teenagers, only in one sense...

Last day tomorrow. Aim to get to Verona about 18:00, Inshallah!

Keep you posted...

Greetings from Bormio

There was only a modest amount of snow to see up on the Stelvio pass when we got up there this afternoon. The last time Graham had been at the place was about thirty years ago, much later in the year and he remembers far more extensive snow cover. An appropriate place to come to reflect on the impact of global warming; perhaps nice Mr. Trump should come and take a look at places like this as he continues his campaign to dismantle the global climate change agenda in order to save American jobs in 19th century industries...

Where's the snow?

The City Hotel in Merano where we spent last night, has the most excellent bike room down in the basement. They have pumps and all kinds of bike tools freely available for their cyclist guests to use and so after a bit of essential bike maintenance, we hit the road about 8. 

Once again we had the benefit of the brilliant network of cycle paths that weave through this part of the world, built with as much care and attention to detail as any road project, something the folks back home could learn from. Our course took us down 30 miles of these cycle tracks, along the valley floor towards the base of the Stelvio pass. We stopped at a great little restaurant by a fishing lake where for the first time this week Chris found some people he could talk to who didn’t argue back.

Making new friends

We got to the beginning of the road up the pass about lunchtime and after a quick stop to load up with bananas and water we headed off.

For the first few miles the road tracks along a powerful river coming down off the mountain, bird song and the roaring torrent of clear alpine water filled your senses for this part of the ride.

Beautiful day for a climb

As the climb got steeper and we got onto the famous 48 hairpin bends that would take us to the top of the pass, the accompaniment changed to that of enormous motorcycle engines thundering up the narrow road, something of which Mr. Trump would have approved, no doubt.

Better without an engine

We all went at our own speed, I found myself doing the same pace as Chris and we kept together all the way up as the legs got tired and the breathing got harder. It took us about 3 hours to get to the top. Traditional photos by the sign, posts of Face book and a huge German sausage in a bun as we waited for the others, Harley got in next and Graham a little behind him.

Made it...

The descent on the other side of the mountain was fabulous, all be it bloody cold. Fast, smooth and thankfully dry roads that just seem to hang off the sheer rock walls. The wind did catch me out from time to time on a couple of turns, suggesting that anything over 40 mph was probable not such a good idea!

Then there’s always that great levelling moment when you realise your fine athletic accomplishment is really not all that. For us it was when a group of roller skaters casually glided past us, on one of the steepest parts of their climb.

God! The young peole of today

Got to the hotel, the excellent Baita dei Bini in Bormio at about 6. Laundry, steak and beer and not necessarily in that order. Climbed a 2757 meter mountain pass today, not bad for a bunch of old men!

...and richly deserved

Keep you posted
     

Greetings from Merano

We spent the day in the Dolomites and no wonder this place has been designated a world heritage site. This mountain range must be one of the most beautiful landscapes anywhere in the world with vertical walls, sheer cliffs and deep, long valleys. There are apparently 18 peaks which rise to above 3,000 metres and our legs are testament to this.

Yes that's Harley...

We left the hotel in Cortina at 8 and headed straight into the first of our three climbs of the day, we were looking at doing about 11,000 ft. or 3350 meters of ‘up’ today. It was a beautiful morning, only spoiled by squadrons of leather clad Germans on huge motorcycles carving up the narrow roads and making it somewhat difficult to appreciate our surroundings.

Lunch was at a small bar the top of the Valparola pass, shortly after we arrived a group of rather green Dutch cyclists turned up and we thought it better to get off the mountain before they started to swarm down the mountain.

Green Dutch Cyclists

Bolted down some pasta and by the time we were ready to go the rain had arrived again. Thankfully only a light shower compared to yesterday, but enough to make you cautions on the steep descent.

By mid afternoon we got to our third and final peak of the day, the sun was out again as we headed down to Bolzano for the last stretch from there to Merano. It was getting late and Chris was determined to get to our destination before 7 O’clock, consequently we all chose to ignore Harley’s increasing desperate pleas for ice cream.

A plea for ice cream (unheard)

I remember from our last trip to this part of the world the fabulous cycle paths that run along the valleys connecting the towns. The only issue can be finding your way through this complex network of paths as they weave through the towns. Graham took us to several distinctly uninteresting industrial estates. “we’d be OK if there was someone to ask” he kept repeating, which would have been a worthy sentiment if his lack of proficiency at Italian and his British approach of ‘if they don’t understand shout louder’ had not already taken us off towards the Austrian border on two separate occasions earlier in the afternoon. Anyway, we eventually discovered the path we were supposed to be on and found ourselves following a very fit group of lycra clad women cyclists, flying towards Merano; we fell in behind them with Chris keen to take the lead and suddenly going rather faster than he’d managed at any point over the proceeding days.

We got to the City Hotel about 7, another excellent place. Good, large gin and tonics on arrival and after the usual kit washing ceremony, we headed out to a small Italian restaurant, frequented by locals which is always a good sign. The waitress fell in love with Graham, which was nice and which made him feel better after all the abuse he’d received about his navigation earlier in the day.

"What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this..."

The mighty Stelvio tomorrow. Keep you posted.

Geetings from Cortina

After another excellent breakfast, we set off at 8 O’clock from the Hotel Aplis and our route took us immediately up onto a very quiet road, climbing the side of the mountain.

Final adjustments

 We passed through sleepy Alpine villages, men enjoying their first espressos of the day in street cafes before heading off to work. Robust, middle aged women wandering along pavements with empty, colourful shopping bags. The climb was relentless, as lorries passed us on their way down the mountain they rather unusually flashed us, which we took as a sign of encouragement – little did we know what it actually meant! 10 miles into the climb it all became clear; as we rounded a corner, we discovered a bridge across a ravine was being rebuilt, it was still there, but covered in cement lorries and scaffolding. The site Forman leaped out of his hut, his gesticulations indicating that we could go no further. Whilst there was clearly major work going on with the bridge, it still seemed intact and we asked whether we could cross; only fair we thought, given that there were no signs anywhere in the previous 10 miles that even hinted there might be a problem. The response was an unequivocal ‘No’. In a very Sudanese moment, Chris offered him 50 euros to let us cross, in a very non-Sudanese moment, the Forman gave us a long and slightly threatening lecture about health and safety (in Italian). We beat a retreat.

I think there's something wrong with that bridge...

We faced a choice. We could climb down the side of the valley, somehow cross the river at the bottom of the gorge and then clamber up through the forest on the other side in an attempt to find the road beyond the broken bridge, or cycle back down the 10 miles of mountain and find a different route to our destination. Graham, was an advocate for the former, mountaineering option; the rest of us were less keen to get lost in Alpine pine forests with bikes slung over our shoulders. We’d all been ‘off piste’ with Graham before and somewhat regretted the experience, so voted for retracing our steps. There is an unbroken tradition on these trips that in the morning of day 3, Graham loses his rag about something, and sure enough, our decision to head back down the mountain set him off. “this is bloody ridiculous, I come all the way up here only to be told to turn round and come back, I’m almost a pensioner you know”.  

The broken red line spells trouble

Our new route took us onto a busier road, higher in the mountains. A, nice pedal apart from the lorries and a 4 kilometre tunnel, something that as a cyclist, its good to try and avoid. They are typically too narrow, you can’t see the road properly in the dark and the ventilation system is so deafening you can’t hear all the bloody great lorries coming up behind you, Harley hates tunnels...

So after the mornings detour, we got to Auronzo di Cadore in time for lunch at an excellent pizza restaurant. And then a clap of thunder announced the afternoon’s entertainment, the rain started coming down like stair rods, it made a monsoon day in Khartoum seem like a small shower.

Nice view from the restaurant window (Not)

We had no option as we were running late, so waterproofs of and with that feeling that you get when you are about to jump into a cold swimming pool, we left the shelter of the restaurant and set off through the rain. Another big, wet, silent climb up to Passo Tre Croci at 1850 meters and then the long descent on dangerously damp roads to our final destination, the excellent Ambra Hotel in Cortina.

The Ambra Hotel

Keep you posted...

Greetings from Ovaro

We left the Hotel Dobra Vila at 08:15 and for any of you who happen to be visiting Bovec, I would strongly recommend it.  The rooms were large, comfortable and interesting, the service excellent and the breakfasts perfect for cyclists. Within 15 minutes we were in the first of the three major climbs  of the day a 1,000 meters up into the mountains starting at Zaga. A beautiful, clear morning; bird song and the sound of streams flowing over rocks was all that could be heard as we picked our way along the mountain roads. At the top we came across the deserted boarder crossing between Slovenia and Italy, a little further on was the Italian boarder post, a fat policeman waved us through without looking up from his newspaper.


Hotel Dobra Vila

Then a sweeping descent, tired hands from hanging onto the breaks before we reached the valley for a few kilometres of straight flat roads. The second climb started at Uccea. A narrow potholed road leading up the side of the mountain. The difficulty of this climb set Graham off again who complained to Chris that if he’d spent more time planning the route, these sort of roads could be easily avoided. Chris explained the hours of meticulous planning that he’d put in, and the objective was more about scenery than sadism. To illustrate this investment, those of you who work with Chris will be able to find this project codified as ‘development of sales strategy’ on your timesheet system.


Crossing the border

The third climb of the day was the real killer. 8 miles of climb starting at Sutrio, taking us up to 1750 meters and you can see why they take the Giro D’Italia up this way from time to time. Most of its pretty steep at about 10% but the last 2 miles has some interesting 15%+ stretches before you get to the top, the ski resort of Zoncolan Alarmingly, at the top there’s a memorial to Franco Ballerina, the famous Italian cyclist who got killed on the way down this mountain when he went off the edge, which you can imagine set Graham off again. Actually it was a great descent but there were a few interesting hairpins with no rails!

Memorial to Franco Ballerini at Zoncolan

From the bottom it was a 10km ride to the hotel Aplis. Great place, charming Italian host who makes excellent gin and tonics. Harley used his extensive knowledge of Italian to order the meal this evening; something that looks very much like poached goats eyes and chips has just turned up.

Keep you posted....

7

Greetings from Bovec in Slovenia’s astoundingly beautiful Triglav National Park

The way we organise things is to ask the Concierge at our first hotel to get our large bike cases sent on to our last hotel. As a rule this works, although I remember one mildly frustrating evening in Venice when we discovered we had only the one bike box turn up between the four of us. This year it was Graham who organised these logistics so when a man in a dark suit started pointing at the bike boxes and laughing; as we were going down to breakfast, Graham attempted to confirm these arrangements with him. We observed that Graham was getting increasingly frustrated by this interaction, the man in the dark suit started shouting something in German. Graham shouted back something about BREXIT as the whole thing started to get a bit out of control. Needless to say, the man in dark suit was as much a concierge as I am, it transpired that whilst he was a keen cyclist, he had just rolled in from a wedding and was very much the worse for ware.

The Man in the Dark Suit...

We departed the excellent the Grand Union hotel in Ljubljana at about 8 O’clock and headed north west towards the mountains. A beautiful sunny morning as we started to climb through fields of white, yellow and purple wild flowers and fat Alpine cows eyeing us suspiciously as we pedalled by.

Into the mountains

 The small country roads turned into a network beautifully organised cycle paths, busy with rather earnest road bikers and families on their Sunday morning out. After a soup and pasta lunch at a restaurant in the ski resort of Kranska Gora, with questionable stock control policies as they served us Santa Claus Coca-Cola, we got into proper hills and this was tough.

Christmas in May

For my part, my cycling in Sudan meant I haven’t cycled up any kind of hill for the past 6 months so it was a nasty shock as we got into some 15% climbs. I caught up with Graham who was muttering “I bloody hate hills”, “they’ve only planned this route to get their own back” and “I’m nearly a sodding pensioner you know”.

Chris at the top!

When we eventually got to the top – Vrsic, at a modest 1611 meters, the view was absolutely wonderful. This is a stunningly beautiful country. The descent consisted of sharp hairpin turns and halfway down, Chris and I stopped to let the brakes cool down; Graham sailed past “I hate bloody hills”, “these roads are bloody dangerous, a pensioner could kill himself out here”.

Almost a pensioner - with a new green hat

At the bottom of the mountain, a positively Sudanese wind was blowing up the valley so we battled through until we got to Bovec, our destination. The Hotel Dobra Vila is a charming old place but we only had three rooms booked, thankfully Harley agreed to share with Chris providing he could have the room with the rocking horse, a rather shaping experience from his childhood, apparently.

What can I say...

Out to dinner this evening. Graham’s wearing socks with sandals.

Keep you posted...
 

Day 1 - quite a climb for day 1