Climbing the Muro di Sormano

Today, I had no intention of riding. I basically resigned to the weather report and decided to take the bus down to Bellaggio and hang out there. After a half hour I realized that would be really boring. Once you've been there, especially with little money to spend, it's not that exciting of place, especially on a rainy day. Furthermore, the sun came out. The SUN!! I haven't seen the sun since last Saturday. I decided I had to get back on the bus and go for a bike ride.
By the time I got to the top of the mountain the fog had rolled in. But whatever, I was committed now. At least it wasn't raining. I decided to go and have a try at the Muro di Sormano. The Muro is a legendary climb. It averages 17% and has a maximum of 25%. It's absurd! It was only restored a few years ago, added back into Il Lombardi last year, and it's a cycle only road. It's barely a road, more of a beautifully surfaced path, lettered up with times from famous riders, quotes from said riders about how horrendous a climb it is, etc. It's like no other road you'll ever ride on.
Getting there is also a climb, up to the town of Sormano. It's not a hard climb, but still you have to climb for 5km before you get to the Muro (which means "wall" in Italian, by the way). I wasn't sure what to expect. You look at photos, video, read the numbers, talk to other cyclists, and you still don't know until you climb the thing. Basically for you folks at home, it's like doing Iron Bridge or Uhlerstown, if you take the steep part and just do that for a little less than 2km. I luckily made it up the thing. I averaged 5mph. It wasn't pretty riding with a 39/27 but I did it. I told myself there was no way I was walking the thing, no way was I not making it, and I did it. It was insanely hard, but I was expecting some part to come along and be so steep that I would have to get off for fear of rolling backward or falling over, but it never came. I did have my front wheel come off the ground a few times in the corners but that has happened on Iron Bridge too.
I then met a group of British and American cyclists in the cafe at the top. When I originally went up there, I had the intention of watching the hill climb race, but standing around in the clouds, freezing was not worth it. Instead I joined them down the decent of the other side of the pass, which was awesome. It certainly would be a bit more fun with more visibility and dry roads (it rained a bit at the top) but still coming around switchbacks is always fun and we only passed three cars in 15km. I waited at the bottom for them, they must have really been taking their time. I hate riding the brakes, it makes me nervous and I feel more in control going fast. Of course, you have to brake in the corners but, luckily by the time we got to the major switchback section, the roads and my rims and pads were dry. By the way, these Schwalbe Ultremo ZX Tubeless tires are inspiring on the descents and the Swiss Stop blue brake pads give me great confidence even in the wet. Glad I made the switch.
The finale of the ride (it was a short and slow ride, but 35 more miles that I intially planned to do today) was the Ghisallo. It's a really fun climb, especially with a group, especially now that in am getting to know it. We went really easy, well at least I did, on the first part. I was soft pedaling, waiting constantly (some of these my guys looked very fit, but compact cranksets make strong men pedal like wimps), and I even turned back a few times. I think the group leader either got fed up with me making everyone look a-fool or he just wanted to have fun and put me in my place. On the final switchbacks of the first section, he put in a big attack. I got on his wheel, dug really deep, and just knew that I had to survive a few more steep ramps before the reprieve at Guello. I don't know if he was excited to have someone to ride with who could actually climb or if he was sick of me and wanted to humble me a bit. But, maybe to his surprise, I went right with him. I knew after the slight downhill, there was a really steep section, followed by the famous switchbacks and the final kick up to the line. I knew this was going to hurt like hell, but for my own training (Roma Granfondo coming up), my pride and my love of competing on the hills (which doesn't often happen), I stayed with him. He put in the attack so he did the pulling. He gave no nudge of the elbow for me to come around and drafting isn't exactly that effective on a steep climb anyhow. I knew I couldn't let him ride away on the switchbacks, and I managed to go up there in the 23 instead of the 25. It was really hard. When we came around the final switchback with 300 meters to the top I shifted to the 25 to let my legs spin a little. With 100 meters to go, I went back down to the 23, got out of the saddle and kicked for the line. He was clearly hurting and couldn't stay with me. Racing up mountains is fun!!
So between that and the Muro, which I am so glad I got to do, today was awesome. I've been telling people about the Muro for months now and if I went home without doing it, not only would I be disappointed in myself, but I feel like I'd let my other hill-loving cycling buddies down too.
This was my last ride here. Tomorrow is Il Lombardia, then Monday I'm back down to see the sun in Orvieto. Luckily tonight, the restaurant that is supposed to be really good in town is finally open so it's off to dinner. Look for a race report and hopefully some good photos tomorrow.

The view from the top of the Muro di Sormano should look like this.

Today it looked like this. And this is before the fog got bad!!!

The Muro, including the Colma to get up to it.

The Muro alone. Absurd.

It's ALL about the bike.

Nearly every day I go out and ride here, someone comes up to me and asks me about my bike. If they don't ask me about my bike, they ask me about cycling. If I weren't on the bike, I don't think anyone would talk to me. It's all about the bike. Having a beautiful Italian bike definitely attracts some attention. Many people are surprised, when they ask me about my bike, that I am American. Ironically, most of the Italians I've seen are riding non-Italian bikes with Shimano or Sram components. Coming to Italy is like a homecoming for my bike.

That fraternization that exists between cyclists, and peoples' loosened inhibitions to talk to strangers while on vacation, has lead to nearly every conversation I've had over the last few days. And it's a great thing! Everyone who knows me, knows I love to talk about bicycles. That conversation eventually turns to talking about Italy, food and cooking, and then you can't get me to shut up. This week isn't really turning out to be a week of solidarity after all, which I am very glad for.

Today, I rode down to Bellagio to the ferry to check out another side of the lake. The Madonna del Ghisallo is my Federal Twist over here. Pretty much every ride I have to go down it from where I'm staying, which means pretty much every ride I've got to go up it. For those of you reading who are not my family, or cyclists in the Hunterdon/Bucks area, Federal Twist is the climb up to my house, which is one of the most dreaded climbs around, often avoided by many hill-fearing cyclists, that hits 18% (just a hint, if you're one of those hill-fearing cyclist, maybe don't come to Italy. It's only slightly hilly here). The Madonna del Ghisallo is just a bit harder, at 10km long, 14% at the steepest, extended sections over 9% (yeah I know, 9% doesn't sound that bad but 9% for a few miles is hard). There is a little reprieve in the middle between the towns of Guello and Cevenna, but then there is another set of switchbacks and a steep kicker up to the finish in front of the "bike church". It's not insanely hard, but once you get to know it, you try to go faster and using my "granny gear" 39/27 is not an option. My bike will shift to it, I just don't want to. ---Oh, by the way, Dad, I saw this house for sale at the top of the Ghisallo. A villa that needs a little work... well we still can't afford I bet, but then the Ghisallo can become my new Federal Twist. ---

Anyway, I digress. Today I rode to another big lake out here, Lake Lugano, which borders up on Switzerland. I got very close to the Swiss border, but my route didn't take me there. I had met a very nice British cyclists who is fortunate enough to own a house outside of Menaggio. He told me that I'd best not ride the road that I was planning to ride, as it is the main road from this area to Lugano, Switzerland and the tourist traffic would be bad. I diverted to a previous route that I remembered, which had a bit more climbing. I'm glad I did. I had to do a bit of exploring and following the Garmin as I went but it was worth the extra climbing and adventure, since the scenery was great overlooking the lakes. Once down to the Lake Lugano, I was able to settle into my route, which brought me up a Cat 2 climb and back down to Lake Como. The climb was certainly hard enough and the decent was one of the best I've done. The road was immaculate and throwing the bike back and forth on the fast curves and around switchbacks is the best feeling ever, even if it was a bit cold coming down.
I learned from my new British friend a few things about the weather here. Depending on what side of the lake you're on, you get the forecast from different sources. On his side, you connect to Lugano but on my side you connect to Lecco. Also, it's not normally this cold and grey this time of year. This, he said, is November weather and he wasn't all too happy about it. I can't say I am either. The scenery would be more visible if it weren't so cloudy and I wouldn't have to carry so much clothing, both on my body and in my jersey pockets if it were warmer. But I'm thoroughly enjoying my time here so I can't complain, especially knowing that next week I'll be back to abundant sunshine down in Umbria.
But, I think if I could live here for a while, I could become a quite able climber and really have some fun crushing these climbs if I knew them better. You just can't go all out if you don't know what's ahead of you. The top of climbs here can either dilly dally around on the ridge, or they can turn into absolute walls. If you go hard on the gradual parts (7% stuff) and then it hits 15% or more for a while, you're going to cry, especially not knowing when it will finally end. That's what I'm beginning to love about the Ghisallo climb. I'm getting to know it. I know when I get to those switchbacks, pass the Hotel Mirabeau, onto the steep final ramps up the Museum, I can flick it down a gear and sprint over the top, and then coast 300 meters to my hotel.
Aside from that, I met a very nice couple from Colorado, who just arrived in Bellagio today. I spent some time talking with them about cycling, Italy, food, etc and ended up sitting down for a plate of pasta with them. They had been in Provence before coming here, where he rented a bike and climbed Mont Ventoux. How cool is that? Hopefully he can find a bike to rent here and we hope to meet up on the Ghisallo climb on Sunday, provided that the weather isn't terrible, which I hope for my shoes' sake and the racers', who have to climb the Muro de Sormano, sake that it doesn't rain.
I think predicting the weather here in mountains, with all the lakes around must be a complete crapshoot. My weather app is far too liberal with the temperature. If it was 59 when I left this morning and hit 61, then I must be insane, because it was freezing. The Italian weather site I found said a low of 45 and a high of 55. That's more like it. Not exactly my ideal weather, but like I said, I'm on vacation. No complaining allowed on vacation. I do enough of that at home.

The natural beauty of Lombardia.

On a brief evening stroll (the grocery store was closed and it was too cold) I stumbled upon some of natures beauty right along the streets in Magreglio. Note: none of these photos have been Photoshopped or edited at all. They were taken with my iPhone. The colors are real.

 

 

Museo del Ciclismo Madonna del Ghisallo

Today, I had planned to take a day off the bike to do some tourist activities. I had hoped to catch the bus down to Bellagio, walk around town, maybe take the boat back and forth to another town, eat a big lunch and catch the last bus "home". I searched around online to find the bus schedule and it looked as though there were buses all day. When I got to the bus stop in front of the "bike church" I noticed that there were only two buses per day in each direction that went all the way to Bellagio. So I bailed on that idea and decided perhaps Saturday would be a better day for that, even though it might rain a bit. Since I was in front of the bicycle museum, and it was on my to-do list for this trip, I decided that was what I was going to do today. Luckily I had brought my camera.

I started by stepping in the church again. There is something really incredible about that place. I picked up some literature and one of those little Catholic prayer cards, with a prayer in Italian designated for cyclists. There were cyclists coming up the climb every few minutes today, and when I stepped out the church up pulled Ivan Santaromita in his Italian National Champion's jersey with an Italian Astana rider, who upon riding past the church to get water from the natural spring fountain along side it, made the sign of the cross in homage to Madonna del Ghisallo, patron saint of all cyclists.

I then made my way over to the museum. The museum itself is an abstract yet beautiful modern building that is mostly cut into the cliffside, with just the top sticking above the road, all encased in glass. In contrast to the vast preserved antiquity that surrounds you in Italy, it's certainly unique but doesn't stick out like a sore thumb in a bad way.
I paid the six Euro to get in and I was off into four hours of bicycle heaven. The museum is large but not huge. Most people wouldn't spend four hours in there, but I was captivated, plus I had nothing else to do today, no way to get anywhere else beside riding my bike down the mountain, so I looked at everything in great detail, read anything that was in English and a bit that was in Italian, and took several hundred photos.
The bikes in this place are unbelievable. They have two of Eddy Merckx's orange Merckx Colnagos, Gino Bartali's bike that he rode to win the 1938 Tour de France, along with several dozen other professional's race bikes ranging from the 1930's to the 1980's. The also have a collection of military and civilian bikes dating all the way back to very early 1900's, some modern bikes, some bikes made entirely out of wood (art), some bikes made out of wood meant for riding, and many more. The collection of bikes must be in the hundreds. They also have the largest collection of Giro d'Italia maglia rosa in the entire world. Many are signed, but many others are so old, worn with the blood, sweat and tears of the winner racing in them, combined with the appetite of moths for wool, they lack signatures simply because the winners have long since passed before their jerseys became museum pieces. These are not podium jerseys. Most are the actual jerseys worn by the winner while leading the race. They also had countless Italian National Champions jerseys from what seems like the beginning of cycling time, many World Champions jerseys, a collection of vintage bike building tools, and so many more incredibly fascinating pieces of cycling memorabilia. This is not merely a bicycle museum, this is a cycling museum, a racing museum. It's a beautiful place. To be able to get within inches of the bikes that these great champions rode to victory, left the same way they were the last time they rode them, is mesmerizing.

I have tons of photos from today. I am trying to get them all up to a photo hosting site, but that is taking a lot longer than planned. When I get back home I will load these photos onto my computer and get them online somewhere. Watch this space for more about that after October 15th.

And that's all I did today. I walked around for a while, and went for a little evening stroll, but it's getting so cold here that even with a long sleeve shirt, a sweater and my leather jacket, I'm still cold after a couple of minutes. There is no way it broke 55 degrees up here on the mountain today. 55 doesn't sound that bad, but when it's this humid and misty, and no sight of the sun, 55 can feel very cold.

Tomorrow I hope to get out for one final ride here in the Alps, before the rain comes this weekend. I seems that it will rain again for another bike race, but luckily, this one comes literally right by my hotel. I can open the window and stick my head out as they go by then watch the rest on TV. I do hope the weather is decent enough that I can at least walk a kilometer down the road to watch them come up the steep switchbacks. We'll see.
Until I get to posting all the photos from today, here are a few more to hold you over.

This is getting to be fun!

I'll start this post out by apologizing for not getting more scenery pictures from my rides. Today I climbed up an extremely long, but gradual (for the most part) climb. About a quarter of the way up, before I got really into the clouds, the view over the town of Varenna and Lago di Como was nothing short of breathtaking. But, when you're on a climb that you know is going to go on for 16km, the last thing you want to do is stop and break your rhythm and then have to start again. So no photo, sorry. Some memories are for me only. Plus getting any real quality shot of this amazing place is hard enough on a clear day with a good camera, none-the-less on a more-than-foggy one with an iPhone. And no, I'm not lugging my camera with me up and own mountain pass roads in the Alps.

The other thing with traveling alone out into these remote places it getting photos of yourself. I met a lovely older couple from California who wanted to take my photo and send it to me. Hopefully when they have some time and internet, I'll get those photos and share them with you. Bad self portraits (yes, now I have that Lake Street Dive song stuck in my head) an arms length away are far from ideal.
Ok, enough about the photography or lack thereof. Today, I had a lot of fun! My plan for the day was to ride down to the lake, take the ferry across, ride up the Passo di Esino, descend down another road back to the lake, ride along the lake (though some cool tunnels) back to Varenna, to take the boat to Bellagio and up the Madonna del Ghisallo climb for the first time. I did all of that, but with a lot of socializing and some pizza and gelato eating mixed in. Today was the day that I spent a lot time talking to older English-speaking couples. I must attract them as much as Lago di Como attracts them. There aren't many younger people here so I must stick out like a sore thumb! (sorry if any of you folks are reading, don't mean to offend, it's just that it's been pointed out to me that I'm a young-in around here at this time of year).

The first couple were British, and I was able to help them get the right boat over to Varenna. They seemed thoroughly confused (I don't quite know why) and they had passed back and forth across the lake several times already. The were very nice, knew a little about cycling, well, they were British, they knew about Bradley Wiggins. I ended up running into them again after my giro on the mountain. Throughly nice people!
The second couple(s) were the most interesting ones. I was taking a cool artsy photo of my bike and as I was walking away, I overheard one of them say something about my frame being alloy. I turned around and said, Nope, it's carbon. We got to talking a bit, and the man's wife said, Tell him your story. He was hesitant, seeming to think I wouldn't really care. But she coaxed it out of him. I was expecting some random story about his friend who cycles or something. What he tells me is mind-blowing. He's says, our last name is Bianchi, Edoardo Bianchi was my great-grandfather. WTF?!! Are you kidding?! So, yeah, I met a true Bianchi. His branch of the family must have moved to Australia at some point, and he was the head of Bianchi Australia and the Pacific Rim for a long time, but has since gotten out of the industry after Bianchi was sold to other companies. He said he got to spend about 12 months as a kid at the Bianchi estate in Varese. He also told me, and I don't know if this is some type of family secret, but I have to share it... the celeste color was not the color of the Milan sky, it was not the color that came about from mixed up Italian army surplus paint, nor was it the color of Queen Margherita's eyes... it was... the color... of.... her underwear! That has some implications, huh?! So that whole half hour conversation was incredible! Made my day!

Varenna- quieter than Bellagio and very picturesque

I then spent some time talking with a couple who were from, of all places, New Jersey! They go to New Hope quite often so they know my area. The husband worked in a bike shop as a kid and was completely captivated with my bike. The wife was Italian-American and her family was from not far from where my family was from. After I ate some lunch, we met again walking back to the boat, and again on the boat. We exchanged info and maybe sometime soon I'll meet up with them in New Hope.
The other couple, the ones who took my photo, were very interested to hear about my journey. She said that she'd email me the photos and I'd send her a link to the blog. They knew quite a bit about cycling, he rode from time to time, and they followed the Amgen ToC around quite a bit. The said I needed to come out to California to ride and offered that I stay with them if I came out there! People are so nice. With all the crap that goes on in the world, it's so nice to meet genuinely nice people, especially after spending time in "solidarity" up here on the mountain. Many of these people couldn't believe me that the hotel I am staying in is practically deserted, that they are letting me use the restaurant kitchen as my own, and that I even have a key to the front door to let myself in and out. It's a whole 'nother world up here but it's nice to go down into civilization and socialize a bit.

I rode up that big one in the middle. You can't see the top due to the clouds.

By the time I got back on the boat and started heading up the Madonna del Ghisallo, it was getting on sun set. With the mountains, the sun sets fast here because it has a lot more to hide behind. I have a blinky light, and the traffic is so light that I knew I'd be fine riding at dusk. By the time I got to the top of the challenging 40 min climb, I was riding to the light of the street lamps. It was remarkable taking those iconic switchback in the darkness, and as the fog lifted a bit today, I could see the lights of the lakeside towns far down below. It was beautiful and certainly a perspective that few cyclists get on this heavily cycled road.

Leaving Bellagio behind. The bigger mountain is Madonna del Ghisallo, where I'm staying.

Tonight, I got to get into the kitchen. It's a full scale restaurant kitchen and I had it all to myself. At first, I wasn't sure how they were going to react to my making pasta, but they were completely unphased when I asked for a pot to boil some water. I wasn't cooking anything fancy, just pasta with oil and garlic with some grape tomatoes thrown in and a salad, but it was so cool to cook in there. They had the giant exhaust fan running (probably because cooking garlic in olive oil tends to smell up a place). As my dad knows, I'm always wishing for a restaurant stove in our house. I want one even more now. The burners are so hot. Everything cooks that much faster. The water boils without a lid in half the time, and when you add the salt, then the pasta, the water doesn't stop boiling, it keeps right on going. That is why food tastes so much better. It's the heat. If you get the timing right, which luckily I did, for fear of making a fool of myself, the food is so much more flavorful when cooked like that. Everything, even the texture of the pasta is effected.
So that was a cool experience. Today was a day filled with cool experiences, and that is what traveling is all about. It really brings out the best in people. If only I had skipped on college, took the money I spent and continue to spend on it (college loans) and traveled instead. I had many great experiences at college, don't get me wrong, but if you want to learn about the world, about people, about yourself, you must travel. I know, even on a budget, it's a luxury, and I am fortunate, but have also worked hard, to have, and if you have that opportunity I strongly encourage you to do it. You must. It will shape your life.

Madonna del Ghisallo Sanctuary (the bike church)

On my search for a restaurant to eat dinner at tonight, I passed by the Santuario Madonna del Ghisallo, also known as the bike church. Basically, the sanctuary is named after the apparition La Madonna del Ghisallo, who was named the patron saint of cyclists sometime after the Second World War. If you want to read a detailed description of the chapel and the story behind it, read this very informative article about it.

Since I was probably a bit early for any restaurant to be open, I stepped inside, needing to kill some time. The place is tiny, yet beautful. It is absolutely incredible to look at some of the names on the plaques beneath the bikes and framed jerseys hanging high up on the walls. Fausto Coppi, Eddy Merckx, Gino Bartali, Franceso Moser, Felice Gimondi, and so on, as well as more modern names like Mario Cipollini, Thor Hushovd, Cadel Evans, Paolo Bettini, Maurizio Frondriest, Miguel Indurain, Bernard Hinault, Alessandro Ballan, Gianni, Bugno, Ivan Basso, Connie Carpenter, and of course, Fabio Casartelli (who was born not far away in Como). It's indescribable how mesmerizing it is to look at the actual bike that Felice Gimondi won the 1976 Giro d' Italia on, or that Fausto Coppi won the 1949 Tour de France on, or that did Gino Bartali in 1948, included with his maillot jaune. Perhaps I was too distracted by Eddie Merckx's bike to notice next to it the bike that Fabbio Casartelli was riding that fateful day in the '95 Tour when he crashed and was killed. I will certainly go back again (it's only 300m down the road).The whole chapel is surreal. I took some photos inside and out and gave and offering in exchange for a few post cards.

The place was deserted, of course, like the rest of the town, but especially so at night. There is no one standing guard, just the door open to this amazing place in this quiet little town, and if you didn't know it were there, you in fact probably never would. Next-door is the Museo Ciclismo del Ghisallo, which was not open by that time, but will be again tomorrow. Upon looking in the window, I am really excited to visit. At this location on a clear day, you'd be able to see 2400ft down to the lake and straight across, but you'd never know anything was there on a day like today. Unfortunately I probably won't get to see that view anytime while I'm here.

I then walked down the climb a bit, to another hotel with a restaurant that was open. Open, meaning that they had turned the lights on and there was a chief who was able to cook me a meal but I was the only one there and I'd be willing to bet the only to come in tonight. The food was nothing to get excited about, but it was a big step up from last night's "dinner". Ironically, it was the other hotel that I was thinking of staying at. The old woman who waited on me, clearly the owner of the place, spoke no English but with the little Italian I know and my understanding of Italian food terminology, I was able to order a pizza. Originally I was thinking about walking down to the next town, where I'd definitely have more options for dinner but taking on those switchbacks on foot was not really worthwhile. And I'm glad I didn't because the most epic part of the whole thing was that I had to walk back up 1km of the climb, of course, the steepest part, back to my hotel, in absolute darkness. Good thing for no traffic and a flashlight on my iPhone. Once I got halfway there, into town back near the sanctuary, there were streetlights and a sidewalk.

It's so quiet here at night you can hear the relay of dogs barking one to the next for what must be miles. I swear people must live a really old fashion lifestyle here, at least during the winter months, of going to sleep only a bit after the sun sets, to get up as the sun rises. But just across the lake, you can see the lights of a much bigger town. I wonder what's going on down there? I bet they aren't falling asleep at 9pm!

Left to right: bikes of Eddy Merckx, Gino Bartali, Fausto Coppi, Felice Gimonidi, Francesco Moser, Maurizio Fondreist

Don't know who this guy is but he looked cool and he's riding a Bianchi. Speaking of Bianchi...

I guess Italy doesn't really need Strava. The major climbs here (both the HC one I did today and the Ghisallo) have a finish line and timing boxes on the side of the road. There is an LED display above it telling you the climb name, and where to go for more information. Basically, if you have an Italian Cycling Federation time-chip, which everyone who races or rides Gran Fondi does, you can "race" up these climbs any time you'd like and have your time registered. Pretty cool!

When in doubt, just find the nearest jar of Nutella and everything will be okay.

Yesterday, I arrived in Magreglio, Como, Lombardia. Without a car, getting here is no easy task. I don't think too many travelers turn up without a car, but public transport is amazing here (despite that you can always count on it running a bit late). The bus dropped me off nealy in front of the hotel so luckily walking with the bike bag and my ever-growing luggage was kept to a minimum. Also, people are very helpful here. Multiple times, people helped me get my bags onto the train, through the turnstile, etc. Even at one point, I was walking down the street (in Firenze) and there was a large puddle. The driver behind me stopped, allowing me to walk around the puddle. In Firenze, everyone (except maybe tourists) walks down the streets, even if there is a sidewalk. No one get's mad about it, people aren't constantly getting run over by tiny cars. Could you image that in Philly?!
So, after hours of travel, I arrived at my hotel. I knew that the towns up here would be quiet since the "off-season" has just begun, but I would have never expected it to be this deserted. The hotel, which was only expecting three guests, was unstaffed during the middle of the afternoon. They left a note and said, if you arrive, just call this mobile number and we'll let you in. Luckily, the hotel owner (family) is very nice and helpful. I do feel a bit like I'm staying at Fawlty Towers though. There seems to be plenty of confusion, lots of excessive stairs and platforms, but luckily no comical high-jinks. However, in failing to realize that the "off-season" starts immediately here, especially up on the mountain away from Lago di Como, I failed to realize that the hotel restaurant would be closed. Not just closed on Monday, closed until next summer. I've essentially come to a town about the size of Seargentsville, with no car, on top of a mountain (2500ft, not that big of a mountain) that has basically shut down for the impending winter. Without a car, and with the bus only running until, 6:00 or so, I was without food. The restaurant down the street, which is supposed to be excellent and open all year is of course closed this week. And to make matters worse, it was so dark and foggy (actually not fog, but clouds) that it was like an Alfred Hitchcock movie out there.

With that as a determining factor in me not walking along the Ghisallo mountain pass road to the next town, I was without dinner. The bar down the street was open and I got a bag of chips. The woman downstairs sold me two bottles of frizzante water and I had some leftover nuts and fennel to call dinner. I was thinking, if everything is closed, how am I going to stay here? I was already thinking about bailing on Lombardia and either heading to Milano (which mean shopping and accumulating more stuff that don't have space or weight for, spending even more money) or back to "home", Firenze. I'd have to abandon at the very least some sort of deposit at this hotel plus spend more on another last minute booking.
Luckily, when I got up this morning, some of the fog rolled away (I don't think I'm going to see the sun for the entirety of my stay here), and I found a great little grocery store, that although tiny, was well stocked, cheap enough, and staffed by two very helpful women. Despite our language barrier, we worked it out. The hotel, since the restaurant is closed and there is not one here, is letting me store my perishables in the refrigerator. I even asked if I could use the kitchen, and they said that was fine. So at some point this week, I'm getting to hijack a legit restaurant kitchen. Of course, I'll only make some simple pasta and salad but, it's better than potato chips!

Today, I decided to try to go for a shorter ride, since I feel like I have a slight sniffle and probably am at a bit of a caloric deficit due to not eating a proper meal last night. My short ride turned out to be only 30 miles, but there was an 8 mi at 6.6% climb in there, a HC climb according to Strava, bringing the ride total to 4,300ft. The climb really went on forever and got steeper closer to the top. I took it at a steady tempo, which was hard enough, since I had no idea what to expect around every turn. I can't recall how many switchbacks there were, but when I finally got to the top in Sormano, I was greeted by a spray-painted finish line and a bicycle statue at the top of the Muro di Sormano (no I didn't climb it). I think Thursday I will tackle the Ghisallo and the Muro if I can make it up the thing (1700m, avg 17%, min 5%, max 25%) The climb that bypasses it, which I descended today is hard enough. The Muro must be the most ridiculous stretch of road. The Muro amateur hill climb race is Saturday. If it's not raining, I've got to go watch that.

Well, that's it for now. I'm happy to be eating and surviving here. Despite the mythical fog, the chilly descents and the general grayness, my stay in Magreglio should be a good one, at the very least interesting. If I wanted something the polar opposite of touristy (yet lovely) Firenze, I've got it. This is my week at Walden, except the pond is a tad bit bigger here.

A final photo from Firenze, on my street Via Guelfa, a building that looks to be no longer in use, covered in US $1 bills. You'll notice that some of the lower ones were stolen by some either fearless or inventive "petty thieves". I'm not sure what statement the artist is trying to make, but that's a lot of $1 bills (it covered the other side of the building too). Maybe that Firenze is being run on the money of American tourists and students? There are a lot of them! Who know's?! Regardless, it attracted a lot of attention.