Life is Beautiful Under the Tuscan Sun, by Guest Blogger Q

Our guest blogger...



 Life is beautiful under the Tuscan sun but since this trip of the honeymooners is called Cyclo Italia, it isn't all "Tea with Mussolini". We have visited a few amazing hilltop towns. One can definitely appreciate the protective advantage of building on top of high hills. The climb into each town is heart-poundingly draining in the afternoon sun. The quads scream at each pedal stroke. Dave wasn't kidding when he said climbing a hill with a loaded bike is like riding up it with Dony strapped to the rear rack. If Dave is carrying Dony, Amy said she felt like it was Tuttle weighing her down. And we all agreed that my rear rack had Adam G strapped to it.

The added weight really pushes the bike on the down hill, but as soon as the gradient changes, the bike loses all momentum. It starts to swerve left and right while you're rushing to shift into an appropriate gear. I believe Amy would describe my hill climbing with a loaded bike as watching Ali G staggering home after a night of hydration.
So we already had the "Weeee" shout for joy on the downhill. We now have a high pitch "Aghhhhh" when we come face to face with a steep ascent of unknown distance.

It has been my pleasure and honor to guest blog for this third leg of Amy and Dave's full moon. And speaking of third leg, it has been an amazing journey crashing their luna di miele. Our Italian is still bad, but our legs are definitely getting stronger.

La Dolce Vita, bici!

Q on his bici, Princess Porcini

“I Have a Vision!”

I looked back, and all I saw was an empty road… No Amy riding her bici Luigi, no Quang riding his bici Princess Porcini.  I pulled over in the searing mid-day sun, no shade in sight, straddling my bike to wait for them to appear on the horizon.  Nothing.  So I dismounted, stood beside Mario and drank some water, and waited.  Nothing.  So I sat, stretched my legs, pondered the meaning of life and waited.  Nothing. 

I was pretty sure that one of my artist companions had had another ‘vision’.  I’d ridden by some large hay rolls enticingly close to the side of the road, and I figured they would be too tempting for Quang and Amy to pass up.  But there was always a chance that someone had fallen, or had a mechanical problem, or – worse – some kind of more serious accident or injury.  So I turned Mario around, saddled up, and retraced my route.  Yep, about a kilometer and a half back… there was Quang, dancing on top of some hay, and there was Amy, camera in hand, directing this impromptu photo shoot. 



I knew the hay would prove to be too enticing...




Uh oh... someone had another 'vision'...



This time, apparently, it was Amy’s vision.  Quang and Amy take turns with their ‘artistic visions’.  They come with surprising frequency. 

Quang and Amy both have a lot of 'visions'...

We’ve taken a lot of beautiful photos on our three-part honeymoon.  And I admit:  Amy is definitely the driving force behind a lot of our photography.  I’ve gotten much better as we’ve gone along at remembering to capture some of our favorite moments, and Amy and I tend to complement each other well with the different kinds of shots we prefer.  I’m good with the sweeping landscapes and some of the angled architecture, and Amy’s really good with the detail shots, anything with our zoom lens, and our ‘artistic’ shots.  

But I’d like to take this opportunity to publicly apologize to my lovely wife… for I have apparently, unknowingly, unintentionally been stifling her creative genius and oppressing her artistic soul.

This only became clear to me after Q arrived. For those of you who don’t know Quang, he is – without exaggeration – a professional-class photographer.  Many of our favorite shots from our wedding are shots that Quang took as our unofficial second photographer.  He’s catalogued our various endurance athletic feats (and the training building up to them), and he’s just got a great photographic eye.

Apparently, as complete as our relationship often feels, I cannot be all things to my wife.  Amy needed the companionship of a fellow artist to really unleash her artistic potential.  Since Q’s arrival, Amy’s productivity as an artistic photographer has grown exponentially.  Whereas before we might have 20-25 nice photo-worthy moments in a day, now we have as many as 500 or more.  Whereas before we were content to take one or two shots of something we liked, now we take 20-30 shots, from every imaginable angle, with every possible configuration of camera settings.  Whereas before we might just shoot the scene as it appears, now we have full-on photo-shoots, where as subjects we are instructed to ‘do something interesting’.  

And yes, it is sometimes difficult to fit all those bike kilometers in between photo shoots. 


This is one of my favorite 'visions'...

 

This is how I prefer to pass the time while my artistic colleagues realize their creative potential...

Proof that not all artistic visions bear fruit...
I was told to 'do something' so Amy could capture my shadow...
Alas, no shadow.



And so, while I might cringe when I now hear those infamous words, “Wait, I have a vision”, from either of my artistic traveling companions… I will forever be grateful for all of those beautiful photos we have of our Luna de Miel con Amici. 

Ciao bicis!

Our favorite Italian vehicles...

Sunflowers...

Haayy...

Our favorite city, Pitigliano, by night...
And yes, this is the view from our B&B




 

A Perfect Day in Tuscany

It all started with Nutella.  Any day that starts with chocolate hazelnut smeared on fresh bread is bound to be a good one. 

From the Nutella we headed to the countryside.  The previous days of cycling out of Florence and into Central Tuscany had the back drop of rows and rows of ripening grapes as far as the eye can see.  The vineyards were only interrupted by little villages filled with old stone buildings.

Today, however, the landscape changed.  Today the vineyards were not only interrupted by historic villages but also by fields and fields of bright orange poppies and fields of fields of bright yellow sunflowers- thousands and thousands.  Big, huge smiles were inescapable. 


Happy sunflowers, with San Gimignano in the background...



From the fields we climbed atop impressive walled villages, San Gigmiano and Monte Reggio, to find a favorite lunch of ours- prosciutto and melone, followed by nothing other than a healthy portion of gelato.

It seemed oddly appropriate to park our bikes
in front of the Museum of Torture while we ate...

Today’s final destination was Agriturismo Agricola, a small farm and bed and breakfast just outside of Voltaire.  We were welcomed by Laura- a progressive farmer, baker, gardener, cook, and owner of the Agriturismo.  She showed us to our very own picturesque villa where we would spend the night and introduced us to her friend Maria Angela a feisty fellow farmer (they and three other women have a farm co-operative together- love them!). 

Is it too much for a girl to ask for her own Tuscan villa for her birthday?


We spent the evening cooking together- chicken cacciatore (meaning the hunter’s meal), with pasta and ragu (filled with fresh veggies from Laura’s garden), zucchini with garlic, and fresh yogurt with cherries for dessert.  We had a long, slow, wonderful meal- Italian style- on the terrace of our villa where the conversation moved from Italian culture, to Laura’s crazy neighbors, to problems with local hunters, to unpredictable Italian business hours, to Laura and Maria Angela’s hopes and dreams for their farms (hopefully we will help them come true by telling Lonely Planet what a great thing they have going).  The conversation, though, always seemed to wind back to the good food. 


The table was set for a wonderful dinner in Tuscany...



With ingredients like these, we couldn't go wrong...

The view from our villa...



It was one of those days you just didn’t want to end and feel so lucky to have had with company you feel lucky to know. It was, indeed, a perfect day in Tuscany. 

Ciao Bicis.

A Letter of Apology

A letter of apology...

Dear Residents of Siena, David, and Quang,

So. . . as we cycled through Siena on day 3 of our giro di luna di miele I didn’t do such a great job keeping up with my hourly food and drink intake.  This led me to . . .  BONK.  In other words, I crashed- both physically and mentally.  My body didn’t want to go anymore and my mind REALLY didn’t want to go anymore.  Somehow the Tuscan beauty turned ugly, the encouraging words from my cycling counterparts seemed irritating, and the drivers and pedestrians of Siena, frankly, just pissed me off.

So. . . I might have flipped a few people off (I’m now hoping the middle finger means something kind in Italian).  Sentences beginning with “What the. . . “ might have escaped my lips (hopefully those, too, got lost in translation).  I might have spoken sternly to my dear husband, insisting in a less than gracious tone that he “ JUST GO BY ME. . .please.”, when really he was being sweet by waiting.  I might have ignored my dear friend Q’s encouraging words and not joined in to his singing.  For all this. . .  I apologize.  It wasn’t you. It was me.

I am truly sorry and I promise to try very hard to eat and drink religiously through all rides forthcoming as to never again underappreciate the beauty around me and the good friends at my side. Please forgive me.

                                                                                                                            Sincerely,  Amy Kovick

AND NOW IN MY LIMITED ITALIAN

Citta' di Siena, David, Q,

               Scuuzi.

                                Amy Kovick

Shopkeepers of Tuscany: Beware!

They never know what has hit them. 

The tell-tale clicking and clacking of our approaching bike shoes should have been the first sign of warning.  They still have time to pretend their shops are closed. 

As we first come into view, poorly camouflaged with our multi-colored lycra and spandex, we should have given them reason to worry.  Still time to lock the doors. 

We greet them with our ‘ciao’s and ‘bongiorno’s and start to ask about the ingredients in some tasty-looking treat – compensating for our grammatically incorrect Italian with excessive pronunciation and flair.  This certainly should have prepared them for the cyclone that was about to hit them. 

But for some reason, they never see us coming, and before these poor shopkeepers know what has hit them, we’ve completely wiped out their cute little pastry shops, mini-markets, butcher and cheese shops, and breakfast restaurants – leaving a path of pure devastation in our wakes.


Yes, it takes a lot of fuel to get these three bodies and these three bicis, loaded down with all of our gear, up and down the hills of the Tuscan countryside.  And we approach the task of fueling these bodies with great gusto every morning… afternoon… and night… and in all the breaks in between.

The unsuspecting owner of this shop has no idea
what's about to happen to his cute little shop



We clean out these towns with the precision and coordination of a well-trained commando unit.  Our hauls are often impressive.  You never know what you might find, and you never know when you might find it again… so we operate under the unwritten rule of ‘grab it while you can’ – I’m sure we’ll find use for it later.


One morning's breakfast haul... in progress...
This photo taken before the butcher, cheese shop, mini-market,
and return trip to the baker for round 2 of croissants.



It starts with breakfast.  This is the one meal of the day that is not particularly kind to the gluten-intolerant Clydesdale among us…  But don’t worry.  His traveling companions more than compensate.  Q attacks the croissant counter – he and Amy will easily put down 5 fluffy pastries filled with some fresh fruity goodness between them, often wiping out the croissant supply in town.  Dave is at the coffee bar, ordering 2 capuccinos for himself and 1 for Amy.  If they have fresh-squeezed juice available, we’ll get 3 of those as well.  Amy is already thinking about lunch… she heads around the corner to the bakery, grabbing all the focaccia she can get her hands on… especially if it’s filled with prosciutto and cheese.  Dave has moved on to the local butcher and cheese shop, stockpiling an arsenal of chips, sliced meat and cheese for lunch.  Amy is now around the corner at the fruit vendor, relieving them of their supply of bananas and apples for our first snack of the day.  Quang is moving from shop to shop, emptying the drinks refrigerators of every Gatorade, energade, and powerade the town has to offer. 


Dave's always at home in the macelaria (butcher shop)



We pack up our loot and head onto the next town… where – after 10-20km and probably some serious sweat-inducing climbs, it’s time for a snack.  Yes, we have our snacks with us… but we must continue our reign of terror on the shop-keepers of Tuscany… and it never hurts to supplement your snack with something fresh and cold.  Quang is not afraid to tackle his first gelato of the day at 10:30 in the morning (how else can you have a 3-gelato day, unless you’re prepared to get an early start?).  Dave puts down his first refreshing cola of the day. 

Then we stop for lunch, and the cycle repeats… and afternoon snack, and the cycle repeats. 

Jackpot!  We stumbled across the only open store
in a tiny Tuscan village one silent Sunday afternoon,
and promptly relieved them of their supply of Magnum ice cream bars.

And then we finish cycling for the day, and it’s time for dinner… well, not exactly.  Italians don’t eat until 8 or 9pm.  We can maybe get by with a 7:45pm start… but any earlier than that and you are condemned to the ranks of ‘american tourists’.   So we pass the time with a light apertivo snack… maybe a platter of fresh meats and cheeses… or another piece of pizza… or another ice cream… or another sandwich… just a light snack to hold us off until dinner.

When dinner finally arrives, you’d think we would be pretty full already… but we start with an appetizer, then a pasta dish, then a main course, and finish it all off with a panna cotta.  Of course, when I say ‘finish it all off’, I only mean until we pass the gelato shop on the way back to the hotel, where we have a night-cap of hand-made gelato before bed… only to wake up hungry and ready to do it all over again.

So, shop-keepers of Tuscany, consider this fair warning.  We’re coming soon to a town near you… and when we’ve left, we’ll have taken all of your food with us.

 Ciao, bicis!

Luna de Miel con Amici!

We headed to Florence filled with anticipation for the arrival of our dear friend Quang, whom we’d convinced to take a few weeks of vacation to join us for the last few weeks of our honeymoon.  For those of you who might be thinking that it’s not particularly normal to invite friends on your honeymoon, we have two replies.  First, this is clearly no ordinary honeymoon.  Second, you clearly don’t know our friend Quang.  When you honeymoon for 6 months, there’s always time for some special guest appearances, and a little dash of Q in our lives just always seems to brighten the day.  We also tend to spontaneously break into song a lot more frequently. 

It has created a little bit of confusion among some of the Italians we meet along the way… It’s hard enough to break through the language barrier, without trying to explain how it is our honeymoon, but there are three of us.  There was one particularly confused Italian, for whom I had to clarify that when I said ‘we were married in October’, I meant just Amy and I, not all three of us).  So we’ve taken to calling this portion of the honeymoon our ‘luna de miel con amici’, and that seems to sort things out.  And if that fails, we just tell people that Quang is our adopted child.

We woke up that morning in Spezia knowing that our rendezvous with Q was only a few short hours and a few short train rides away in Firenze (that’s Italian for Florence), until we looked at our phone and saw 6 text messages from Q, each one updating us on the status of his eventually cancelled flight.  (The last was a photo of Q having dinner with the Lufthansa gate agents in their employee dining area… Only Q could end up in that kind of situation.).  So we decided to take our time getting to Florence, and distracted ourselves with all the tourists posing as if they were holding up the Leaning Tower of Pisa. 


Which is more exciting... this tower?...



Or all the tourists posing
 as if they are holding it up?



In Florence, we decided to take the more challenging urban route to our adorable little bed and breakfast.  The house was a working farm back in the day, located just outside all of the hubbub of downtown Florence, connected by a beautiful, serene 4km bikepath along the river Arno.  Of course, we only learned about the bike path after our harrowing and less-than-direct route through the traffic of Firenze.  Our hosts Stefania and Mario were as welcoming as they could possibly be – arranging bus/tram tickets for us, doing our laundry so we could enjoy the city instead of wasting our day at the Laundromat, and even giving us a ride to the airport to meet Q when he eventually arrived.  Almost certainly our favorite inn from the entire full-moon (except for Dougie, of course). 

We were so saddened by Q’s delayed arrival that we had to drown our sorrows in one of the finest meals we’ve had on the full moon.  The Lonely Planet never steers us wrong with its recommendations.  This was a meal the Fong’s would definitely have been proud of.  Of course, we started with our favorite appetizer, prosciutto con melone, which has taken a slight lead in the competition with gelato to see which food we eat the most of during our time in Italy.  Amy chose the raviolis with black truffle for her primi piatti (the pasta dish) – a specialty of the region – which melted in her mouth and caused her eyes to roll back in her head a few times.  My filleto steak was pretty outsanding for the secondi piatti… but not as good as the heavenly panna cotta I had for dessert, which for some reason, required me to close my eyes as a I savored each spoonful.   


Oh Prosciutto!  What kind of cruel religion could make you forbidden???








Potato Ravioli with Black Truffle...
Not sure this one will ever be topped.

The next day, Q’s plane finally arrived…


Yes... we were excited...



Bongiorno, Q!  Italia has no idea what it's in for!

And for some reason, every photo we’ve taken since then has seemed more ‘blog-worthy’ than the last.



Arm thing!  Arm thing!  Arm thing!



As many of you know, it usually takes 2 sips
for Amy to start getting silly...
You should have seen her
after she downed this whole bottle!



Yep... something about being around Q...



We picked up his bici in a little town outside of Firenze called Tavarnuzze, and headed south along the Chianti Classic route, through the heart of Tuscany, towards Greve-in-Chianti and Siena… where more crazy hyjinx await…

Until then, Ciao Bicis… from the Luna de Miel con Amici!














No to the Double-Whammy... but Double Gelato? Siempre Si!

Even though we came out on top in our quest to conquer the Alps, we weren’t quite ready for any more mountains just yet.  Originally we planned on doing what we called the Double Whammy - The Glory of the Alps followed by Mountains of the Riviera… but our achy legs got the best of us and we decided no double whammy this time.

Instead, we thought we would spend some time on the coast visiting Cinque Terra (don’t worry:  still many hills included).  We had heard great  about these five little villages tucked into some rugged Italian coastline (thanks Reaveys!).  

We left our aforementioned campsite early in the morning- feeling no need to stick around to enjoy the sights, and headed to Levanto, the gateway to Cinque Terra.  It wasn’t exactly an Alp, but still a good continuous climb for an hour or so.  And it was definitely nice to be able to go one or two more kilometers/hour faster than the previous days. It felt less likely we would roll back down to Sestre Levante.  We shared the climb with lots of fellow ciclistas, all of whom were (1) looking super-sporty in their matching lycra outfits, (2) were super-friendly with their ‘ciao!’s, ‘forza!’s, and ‘vai!’s, (3) none of whom were lugging all of their earthly possessions with them, and (4) all of whom made us feel like we were standing still as we headed up the mountain. 

We were so excited to arrive in Levanto at a decent hour – around 1pm.  Over lunch we planned a relaxing afternoon- drop our things at a hotel (NO MORE CAMPING!), do some laundry, beach time. . . Unfortunately, we hadn’t plan on all of Italy joining our full-moon at this time. Little did we know school was out, and vacation for Italians had begun… and of course, what better place to welcome the Italian summer than Levanto?  Our relaxing afternoon turned into an afternoon-long search for a place to call home for the night. 




Amy can't get enough of the narrow Italian streets...



We bought some prosciutto i formaggio for lunch
from an adorable couple that runs this shop.

The tourist office had just closed for lunch, and so we cycled around town, checking in on no less than 10 B&B’s, all of whom were ‘completo’ (full for the night)… and ror a minute there, it was looking like we might have no choice but to camp again. (Nooooooo!).   Luckily one last stop at a hotel saved us.  It was a little pricier than we like but we made sure to get our money’s worth- milking it for every drop of hot water and every free minute of Wi-Fi we possibly could. 

Once we were settled we walked the streets of Levanto, grabbed some dinner, and a gelato. 

And then another gelato. 

We recently told you  about some of the lessons we’ve been learning on this full moon that we think will help us in our married life (Lesson #1:  Don’t try to guess what your person is thinking, or you might end up camping in a junkyard).  Well, we’ve also learned that sometimes, you have to be a big enough person to admit when you’ve been wrong.  And there’s no way around it… on this night, we were wrong. 

We settled far too quickly on the first gelato that crossed our path, and although it was certainly enjoyable, it did not look nearly as appetizing as the over-flowing cornucopia of creamy and delicious goodness that appeared in the window of the next gelateria, just as we were finishing our last bites.  Thus was unanimously enacted a new Kovick rule: only buy gelato when it is overflowing out of it's containers and you can see the individual braids from the hand-whipping.

And the second new Kovick rule of the night: there’s nothing wrong with a double-gelato evening! (also unanimous). 

From there, with our full stomachs, we cycled along the coast with sweeping views of the colorful little towns that make up Cinque Terra. Initially, we had big plans to visit all 5 of the towns of Cinque Terra.  But you see, you cycle along a ridge-top road, and then have to descend many kilometers to these charming seaside villages, and then climb back up each and every one of those kilometers to get back to the ridge road.  So we started by saying we'd visit all 5 towns... then 20 minutes into the first climb, we said we'd visit 4 towns... then, as we continued to climb, it was down to 3 towns, then 2, then eventually just the 1.  But they were so much more beautiful from up above at a distance!  Anyway, Cinque Terra was the beautiful.  But I’m sleepy... so we'll let the pictures speak for themselves. The End, by Amy Kovick. 

Ciao bicis!



A view of Cinque Terra



More narrow Italian side streets...


 

One of the five towns of Cinque Terra... Much prettier from above



The one town we ended up visiting in Cinque Terra



Dear Quang: You can leave your tent at home!

After conquering the Alps, we decided to head south and east to cycle the coastal route along Cinque Terra.  We had initially planned to cycle in the Mountains of the Riviera… but after taking 4 days to do a bike ride our book claimed would take 2 days, we needed to take a slightly more direct path towards Florence in order to meet our friend Quang in time… and we also didn’t mind a temporary reprieve from climbing after several days in the Alps. 

We caught the train from Cuneo to Fossano, Fossano to Savona, and Savona on to Sestri Levantri.  It’s a bit of an adventure riding the rails with our bicis.  Bicis are only allowed on the slower regional trains, which means you have to make several connections to get from point A to point B.  Normally, you would look for the tightest possible connections to get there as quickly as possible.  Not so with Mario and Luigi.  They’re great on the open roads, but a bit difficult to maneuver in train stations, on and off of trains, up the stairs and down the stairs, from one platform to another.  Bicis are also only allowed on one compartment in the train… and of course, that compartment is either the first… or the last.  So, you do your best to guess which way the train is headed, flip a coin for first or last, and then race the full length of the platform through distracted pedestrian traffic with your ‘wide-load’ bicis when you guess wrong, hoping to then maneuver both your bici and your husband/wife onto the train before it departs.  Eventually, we found ourselves in Sestri Levanti, a beach town in the Italian Riviera. 

We decided that it would be a perfect night to camp.  We’d been carrying around our tent, our sleeping bags, our sleeping pads – up and down the Alps – but had always found a good excuse to opt for a hotel instead of a camping site.  We came close one night, but the campsite we saw was pretty sketchy, far from town, and generally unappealing.  So we passed on that one.  But now, tonight, time to put that equipment to use! 

Our Lonely Planet suggested that one campsite in particular, though slightly further than the others, was the cleanest of the bunch… and so we set off on our bicis.  We exited town, and seemed to be heading further and further away from the business district, towards Campeggio Formaggio.  (Not its real name… but we could only remember that it began with an ‘f’... and 'camp cheese' seemed appropriate enough).  Of course, it was up in the hills, and after a short but steep climb, we were there. 

Our tent has seen some really stunningly beautiful campsites during this full moon.  Campeggio Formaggio, well… let’s just say it was not one of them. 

Our campsite hostess showed us to a scraggly patch of sideyard, covered with a hard scrabble surface, a bunch of yard junk, and a whole lot of cats.  She ceremoniously removed the rope that was protecting the site and its pristine environs, and… voila… home for the night. 



Our tent has camped in some beautiful places on the Full Moon...
This was not one of them.
(Look closely and you might be able to see 30 or 40 cats hiding in the picture).

Truth be told:  I didn’t really want to camp there… I would have much preferred a hotel, with a welcoming bed, our own hot shower, an array of neighborhood ristorantes to choose from, and a nice cappuccino in the morning… but I thought that Amy really wanted to try out the whole camping thing and save some money.  I later learned that Amy was really secretly hoping that I was going to take one look at that alleged campsite and turn us around and opt for a hotel for the night.  You see, friends… we learn useful things on the full moon to help us to a successful marriage:  don’t try to guess what your person is thinking… or you end up camping in a junkyard… surrounded by cats.



Why this 'Reception Area' wasn't enough of a warning to us?...
We shall never know.

So, we set up the tent, and several of the local cats immediately tried to make it their home… some tried to get in, others went under.  We were definitely under attack.  (I *might* have made a few cat pancakes when I laid out my sleeping bag and stretched my aching limbs).  Amy went off to shower… Let’s just say that Lonely Planet’s description of the campsite as ‘cleaner than most’ was either a bit of a stretch, or a bit out-of-date, or we really don’t want to see what the others look like.  But hey, it's the first time they've steered us wrong in 6 months.  As I set up our little home for the night, already less-than-thrilled... of course, one of our new, super-lightweight sleeping pads had a hole in it.  This isn’t going well.

Okay… nothing a good meal can’t fix.  Dave: ‘Signora, is it possible to eat here?’  Signora:  ‘No, but food is only a 10-minute walk.’  Ten minutes later, and we were at one of the other campsites, which claimed to have a restaurant… This didn’t promise to be our best meal in Italy, but we were so hungry and tired, we were prepared to sacrifice the meal.  Of course, it was closed.  But they gave us directions to another very fine restaurant… another 20 minutes walk away… which was also closed.  We stocked up on some snacks, and walked the rest of the way into town, where we had a lovely meal, and then called ourselves a taxi to take us the 4 or 5 kilometers back to Campeggio Formaggio. 

And so, having experienced camping in Italy, we’ve decided that it’s all hotels from this point forward, with no guilt or regrets about money that will go un-saved.  There are just so many beautiful places to stay in Italy – old castles, quaint villages, agriturismos – that it seems a real shame to spend a night in a junkyard doubling as a campsite.  And there are so many amazing restaurants in which to each the most delicious meals – all of which seem to be several kilometers away from any of the campsites. 


Poor Snorri! (our tent).
Such a tough finale to his Full Moon experience...

So, Quang, as you pack your bags to join us for a few weeks of cycling in Italia… you can please leave your tent and sleeping bag at home.  You’ll find us in a hotel.  And our camping equipment stored in a locker in the Florence train station.

Ciao, Bicis!

The Glory of the Alps

Just another day on the full moon...

The ride is called ‘The Glory of the Alps’.  Duration: 2 days.  Distance Covered: 165km.  Difficulty: Demanding.  Our Lonely Planet describes the ride this way:  “It might make you cry.  How beautiful the enormous jagged mountains and rugged valleys are.  Or the watering eyes might just be from the pain in your leg muscles.”  For some reason, we thought it would be a great way to start our cycling adventures in Italy.

The streets of Sampeyre...

Day 1 (Vigone to Sampeyre): We left directly from Vigone, having packed up our bicis, and set off for Sampeyre.  Our plan was to ride about 70km, south and west from Torino, towards France, into the foothills of the Italian maritime Alps.  We pedaled through some beautiful Italian farmland and some quaint little towns, from Vigone to Saluzzo, and then into the Valle Varaita to the ski town of Sampeyre.  The road was pretty flat, with a slight but noticeable incline for the last 30k or so.  70k may not sound like much to our triathlon friends – we regularly ride about 80k in about 3 to 3.5 hours during a half-iron race.  But our bicis are not racing bikes, and as you start to climb uphill, even slightly, you begin to notice all that luggage strapped to the back of your bike.  And so we arrived in Sampeyre, about 5+ hours later, with tired legs, but hungry for the Alps that would come the next day.

A view of Sampeyre... from early in the climb up Colle de Sampeyre

Day 2 (Sampeyre to Marmora): Today we planned to cover about 80km and climb 2 Alps – one in the morning, then lunch, then another in the afternoon.  I emphasize the word ‘planned’.  We had already started hedging our bets… acknowledging the possibility that we might decide one Alp was enough, rest in the afternoon, and tackle the second Alp the next day… especially when some of the friendly Italian cyclists on their beautiful road bikes raised eyebrows when we described our plan for the day.  But honestly, how long could it possibly take to climb one Alp? 

First ascent of the day: Colle de Sampeyre – 16.5km of climbing, up… and up… and up, 1400 meters of elevation gain.  For our triathlon friends out there, picture climbing Big Blue… on a mountain bike… 10 times in a row… without any downhill breaks in between… with Dony strapped to the back of your bike.  That’s pretty much what it’s like to climb an Alp on a touring bike.  Initially, we’d go about 3km, and then take a break.  Then it was 1.5km between breaks.  Then it was whatever our bodies could handle. Of course, the hardest part about taking breaks on a long and sustained climb is getting back into your pedals and starting up again – we’ve gotten really good at uphill starts. 

At times, the Alp had the better of us...
but pavement never seemed so comfortable!



Amy said she could literally see my face thinning, as the sweat poured off of me as I pedaled up the mountain.  Mario and Luigi were creaking under the strain of the climb.  At times, we were going so slowly that it didn’t seem like our bikes would stay upright.  At other times, the road was so steep that the front end of our bikes -- with all the weight of the luggage in the back -- would literally lift up off the ground -- temporarily turning Mario and Luigi into unicycles!

At around 14km, my legs cramped.  Not individual muscles – just all of them, all at once.  At around 15km, we passed three little old Italian men hiking down the mountain.  They shouted ‘Bravo’ and gave Amy a helpful and sustained push up the mountain.  (Amy thought they were being good Samaritans… but what we really learned is that Italian men of any age will find any excuse to get their hands on a beautiful woman’s bottom). When we thought we could climb no more, we crested the last rise, and we were there… the summit of Colle de Sampeyre… 5 hours after we’d started climbing.  

By the time we rolled into Marmora, the little village where we were initially thinking we might have lunch, 44km from Sampeyre … it was 6pm.  I think we’ll save the second Alp for tomorrow.

We spent the night at one of our favorite places yet on the entire full-moon, Pensione Ceagli, which is a little cycling mecca in a quaint, medieval-looking, stone village.  When we asked if there was room available, our hostess replied, “por cyclistas, siempre”.  We ate very well, we slept very well, and we woke up the next morning ready for our second Alp.

A cyclist mecca:  Pensione Ceagli in Marmora



Day 3 (Marmora to Demonte): Today was the Colle de Esischie, one of the more famous Italian cycling summits, followed by the Colle dei Morti, at 2500m, where there is a monument to the famous Italian cyclist Marco Pantani.  Yesterday, the Alps definitely won… but today, we had our revenge.  We shattered our previous record, climbing the 18km in a mere 3.5 hours.  Yes, that’s pedaling uphill for 3.5 hours straight.  But we conquered the Alps today.  Lunch atop Colle de Esischie easily became one of our top 5 lunch spots during the full moon. 



This is what it looks like...
after you've climbed up a whole long way...

From the top of the Colle dei Morti, it was all downhill… with the occasional obstacles thrown in:  at several points, giant snow-packs blocked the road… and when the road was clear, dodging the marmots that would dart across the road, playing chicken with our bicis.  Distance covered:  47km.


The monument to famed Italian cyclist, Marco Pantani, atop Colle dei Morti




Too bad Mario and Luigi didn't come with skis!



Day 4 (Demonte to Cuneo):  Yes, our Lonely Planet claimed that this ride was a 2-day ride, and we’re now on Day 4.  We completed our “Glory of the Alps” ride with a quick 35km downhill ride to the city of Cuneo, where we will catch a train to Genova, and on to Sestri Levantri, to cycle Cinque Terra.  No more Alps… but still some impressive hills ahead.

Until then, Ciao, bicis!

We totally crushed the Colle de Esischie!

 



But there's no feeling quite like conquering your first Alp...
even if the views were a bit clouded over

 

It’s quite a feeling, to climb an Alp.  It’s also quite a feeling to finally be able to stop pedaling uphill.  Seriously, Amy and I both fall asleep dreaming that we’re still pedaling uphill… and if you stop pedaling, you’re going to topple over.  At the top, we met a wonderful fellow cyclist at the top and had what we think was a lovely conversation in Italian with him.   Unfortunately, the clouds had rolled in and the views were pretty poor.  But the clouds broke on occasion during the long (and well-earned) descent, revealing some really stunning scenery. 



Atop the summit of Colle de Sampeyre... one tough climb!