Saliscendi... in a different way.

I'm sitting in a hotel lounge in Orvieto, Umbria. With every phase of traveling there are some form of challenges. Whether it's the fourth floor walk up in Firenze, potato chips for dinner in a deserted Magreglio, or recently failed wifi and no self-service laundry in Orvieto, every phase of this trip presents new challenges. And every one of these challenges, however small they may be, become more easily dealt with and taken in stride with the experience gained as a traveler. None of the "inconveniences" are major (well, maybe if I couldn't get any food in Magreglio without a car, that would have been a deal breaker), but each deviates you from the plan a little bit. I'm learning to deal with it. Traveling helps you learn how to deviate from the plan. That's what makes it interesting.

Because I have never been to Orvieto before, I had planned to do a day of tourist activities, the Duomo, roam around town, and so-on. Upon arriving here after an epic day of traveling (riding a bus, four trains, a funicular and another bus from 7:30am to 3:30pm), I was "pleasantly surprised" that the hotel wifi was down and that there was no laundromat in town. Laundromats aren't a big thing here. Either you wash and hang your cloths yourself, or you pay someone to do the whole thing. I found the nearest Lavanderia... they were closed. Back to the hotel to ask for directions to another one. This one was across town, but luckily town is really small. Like most businesses here, be they restaurants or lavanderias, this place was family run. The woman's son spoke a tiny bit of English and I, despite not drinking wine, know that secco (as in prosecco) means "dry". I wasn't sure if they used dryers, but I had to make it clear "non secco fabrica tecnica" otherwise I was going to end up with a $1200 pile of melted cycling clothing.

So, with my clothes entrusted with this family until 6pm the next day, it was predetermined that I would not be cycling until Wednesday. With that, today became a tourist day. I must admit, it was a little strange, but enjoyable to sling the camera over my shoulder with the hand-drawn map in my pocket for my first day as a tourist on this trip. Thus far, I haven't really done anything touristy. This was the first time I paid to get into so place, followed closely behind by some obnoxious tour group.
First, let me say that this place is unbelievably picturesque. If I told you, imagine a typical town in Italy and you magically had the ability to sketch it out, you would probably draw something that looks like Orvieto. Yes, it is a popular tourist destination, but unlike Firenze, it isn't filled with tourist trap restaurants or too many stores selling hokey pasta covered aprons or blue Italia sweatshirts. It's everything you'd expect Italy to be, and it's especially beautiful at night. Practically every street is cobbled. The walls that elevate the town above the Umbrian countryside, created by volcanic activity and erosion, feature beautiful ramparts that you can stroll along. The streets are narrow and winding and it's preserved antiquity to the max! Just beautiful!
In spite of that, there isn't too much to do here, by the way of tourism. That's not to say that it's boring in any way. I could spend a long time here just strolling the streets, every one unique and romantic, especially after rainfall, the ancient paving stones glistening like diamonds under the light of antique street lamps, which line the main passages.

I hit the main sites today. I started with the Duomo. It's facade is ornate and so grand in stature, a magnificent edifice in comparison to rest the town of two to three story terracotta-roofed stone houses. The interior is quite bland, especially considering that in many ways (the alternating green and white stone construction and colorful facade) it reminded me much of the Duomo in Siena, which has the most elegant and dare I saw gaudily decorated interior I've yet seen in a Duomo. However, the two chapels on the sides of the main pulpit (I think that's what you call that thing) were beautiful and painstakingly detailed.

Many thoughts struck me as I wandered this great cathedral today: 1) I am so consumed by the process that must have ensued to create such a structure and decorate it in such a way. No one does anything like that now. It's all about efficiency. And that leads to boring architecture. What incredible paint jobs, and the frescos, even so much as laying each stone to alternate colors, and the geometric tile jobs on the floors. That amazes me. 2) The Catholic Church has a lot of money (yet they charge 3 Euro to get in). 3) I don't know the slightest thing about Catholicism. I look up there at Jesus on the cross and I see him as a man, and dying that way had to really, really suck! I am very intrigued about the whole thing. It's quite a story, certainly as a literary work anyway. 4) I'd like to travel somewhere where Jesus is not the "God of choice". It would be interesting to see people with that spiritual connection to another deity. But no, I'm not going to Israel. Too bad China has gotten so Christian, Buddh would be cool. Maybe one of my Indian students will take me to India to lean about Hinduism.
Anyway, yes, I digress. This is what happens when I don't post for a few days! My next stop was... I don't remember. I did a lot of walking today. Oh, right! I went under the city into the caves. How could I forget that?! Across the piazza from the Duomo there was a little shop that sold tickets for Underground Orvieto. Be it for a well, food storage, wine storage, olive oil production, pigeon raising (a typical Umbrian dish), mining, or even refuge during times of war (as recently at WWII), the network of caves, essentially peoples' basements, were a major part of Etruscan life in Orvieto. It wasn't so much of a network, as it was tunnels from individuals' houses. Today, through excavation, a few of these manmade caves have been opened as a fascinating underground "museum". While quite fascinating indeed, I was honestly more excited about the incredible amount of wild rosemary growing on the side of the path to the caves. Wild rosemary is as important to this area's cuisine as the wild boar. It's like nothing I've ever seen. Bushes of it four feet high! (Look at the picture below Mom. That's how much rosemary I want). Then I found a big patch of wild fennel (not the bulb type), and then wild thyme, and even wild arugula. No, I wasn't in someone's garden, I'm in Umbria!

After strolling the ramparts for a bit, stopping in an intriguing bakery for rosemary sea salt breadsticks and chocolate pistachio biscotti, I was off to lunch (ravioli filled with mozzarella di bufala in a simple sauce of pomodorini and basil) then my next tourist stop, to climb the clock tower at the center of town. Though not that high itself, the tower is at the highest point in town and very strategically located. From there it was an incredible 360 view of the town and surrounding Umbria and Lazio as well as a bird's-eye view of the Duomo. This was the first time ever that I climbed a tower in Italy without waiting on line... a notably unique experience.

My last tourist destination was in the complete opposite direction, and I don't mean on the other side of town (actually it was but that's not the point). I mean, I climbed to the top, now I was going to descend to the bottom. Il Pozzo di San Patrizio (St. Patrick's Well), an ancient well commissioned by a fearful Pope who hoped to use Orvieto as a refuge if Rome was sacked and need a reliable water sources. The construction was innovative. Basically it feature a double helix design, wherein a staircase with steps wide enough for a donkey carrying buckets, winds its way down the well. At the bottom, you cross a "bridge" over the water and ascend a separate similar staircase back up. It's really cool! Definitely the first and maybe last time I climb inside a well.
So, in that way I did my fair share of saliscendi today. Between the stairs and walking from 10am until 10pm, I'm pretty fried. Aside from tourist activities, there is plenty of great clothes shopping here. I definitely have a weakness for Italian shoes and sweaters. I just want them all! Italians are shaped like me. The aren't gigantic like Americans, so the clothes here actually fit me! And the style definitely suits me, so with that I am constantly distracted by sweaters, shoes and shirts that are just impossible to find in the US. I have serious plans to come here one day with an empty suitcase and stock up. Between that and the food (the food is everything you might expect...times a million), I really need to live here. It has to happen. Just walking down the street from the cheese store, to the bakery, and to the fruit and vegetable store, it's magical. I just need a tiny house with an outdoor oven and a little plot for a garden, and I'm set. I'm going to figure out a way to make it happen because America just isn't doing it for me. Hell, somehow I even love eggplant over here!

The big thing in Orvieto at this time of year is tartufo... truffles. The are bountiful and comparatively cheap. Combine that with porcini (they actually do) and I'm in mushroom heaven (yes, I know that truffles aren't technically mushrooms, but tomatoes aren't technically vegetables, and peanuts aren't technically nuts, so...). I've yet to have any tartufi. That's on tap for dinner tomorrow after some good cycling in the Umbrian countryside. With that, I'm off to bed. I've probably left something out, but I'm sure you're sick of reading this book of a post by now.

The town is elevated on a plateau. Even today, of course, the city and its geography are not except from the passing of time. There is now a technological effort to preserve the town from landslides and erosion.

At some point today someone asked me what time it was. I wanted to say, just look up, or listen for the bells every 15 minutes.

Inside the well (pics above and below).

Piazza della Republica. I guess every city in Italy has one of these now that Italy is a Republic.

Street work is a bit... different here. Every stone is removed by hand. At some point they'll put them all back.

Oh yeah, I also went to this cool theater today. Just like any theater now-a-days, they have a vast array of performances, but opera still is a mainstay. This is Italy afterall.

Il Giro di Lombardia

Il Giro di Lombardia, also know as Il Lombardia, also known as "La Classica delle Folgie Morte" (The Race of the Falling Leaves) was today. The weather was less than ideal, light rain for most of the race, but nothing compared to the downpour last year, or even more recently, last week at the Worlds. This race is definitely a lot harder though. While this race had only four major climbs compared to the up and down (saliscendi) of Toscana, the climbs here are a lot longer and a lot steeper. These are the Alps. These are mountain pass roads. Okay, not the Stelvio or the Gavia but really hard climbs none-the-less. Combine that with rain, a particularly sketchy descent off the Colma di Sormano, and you have one hell of a race.

The usual allotment of about 180 riders or so started the race. By the time they got to where I was watching from, on the steep upper slopes of the Madonna del Ghisallo, there was Thomas Voeckler and a pursuing pack of no more than forty, with few big names (Gilbert and Contador) popped out the back. Luckily it wasn't pouring, and I was even able to forgo my borrowed umbrella for a while to get some nice pictures. The best thing about switch backs is that you can watch the riders come up them, and then run to the other side before they get there to get another photo.
The excitement was greater than the Worlds. I think the weather dampened things a bit in Firenze. Plus, in the Worlds race, you get to see them come a whole bunch of times. In a point-to-point race, you get one shot to get that photo and cheer your favorite riders on. It was a stacked field too so there was a lot of cheering (though the tufosi will cheer for everyone, even the fat touring cyclists coming up after the race is well and gone). Also, the first official's car has a PA speaker on the roof. That insight into the race combined with the sound of the helicopter makes for an electric atmosphere. The anticipation is even more exciting than the race itself sometimes.
As usual, with bike races, I spent a lot of time waiting around today. Luckily with my hotel being less than a kilometer from where I wanted to stand to watch the race, I was able to sit inside and stay warm and dry, watching the live stream on Rai Sport on my iPad until they hit the base of the Ghisallo. Finally at around 3:30 I made my way down there, the racers came by, and it was back to the hotel to watch the finale online.

I was really rooting for Voeckler. He rides with panache and really goes for it. Sometimes it works out gloriously for him, other times, it's an epic effort that just leads to failure. Unfortunately for him, it was the latter today. He got caught on the final climb with 10km to go to the finish. But a great effort and made the race very exciting. You can always count on him for that. I was originally rooting for, like most of Italy, Vincenzo Nibali, but unfortunately he crashed really hard at the base of the Colma di Sormano and climbed into the ambulance with only 90km remaining.
So, if you didn't watch, or haven't read online yet, defending champion Joaquin Rodriguez, by attacking in the last kilometer of the steep final climb and holding off Valverde on the descent into Lecco, won the race. It was surely a great redemption for him after coming so close last week in Firenze. New World Champion Rui Costa was unable to hang-on on the flat roads before the final climb and slipped back after putting in a little work for teammate and today's runner-up Valverde.

All in all, it was a great race. It's the last big race of the season, the last bike race I'll see this year. Upon waiting for the riders to come along today, I realized nearly every bike race I went to this year it has rained. Granted it didn't rain all week for the Worlds, it more than made up for it on the final day for the biggest event, so that's what I'm taking into consideration. Regardless, bike racing is great, especially when you get to see the big stars fight it out over here amongst the tufosi in Italy.
This will conclude my Lombardia chapter of my trip. Tomorrow it is off to an entirely new experience in Orvieto, Umbria. I heard it is a wonderful place. It will be nice to be back in a town to walk around at night, and seeing the sun again is much anticipated. All in all, my time here "living on top of the mountain" in Lombardia has been spectacular. The quiet surrounds and the smell of burning wood lingering in the cool moist air reminds me of home. I've meet so many great people, rode so many amazing roads, it's been an absolutely beautiful experience.

Dan Martin was hoping for victory and he came close. He managed 5th after failing to follow Purito's (Rodriguez) attack, then suffering a mechanical or crash in the finale (not sure what happened).

Ivan Basso was another hope for today, but I think his time in the spotlight is gone. A lot of other racers of his generation, Dave Zabriskie, Juan Antonio Flecha, Marco Pinotti raced their last race today. Maybe it's time Ivan to hang up the wheels (even though I said the same thing about Horner and look at him. Ivan was riding strong at the Vuelta until he was forced to abandon due to hypothermic conditions).

Rui Costa near the front in his new Rainbow Jersey. He went with the white shorts which is not customary and flies in the face of tradition, but maybe we is thinking to next year, when he's switching to Lampre. There is no way he's wearing neon pink and blue shorts with a white rainbow jersey. That would look worse than AG2R's shit brown shorts (which by the way, look a lot worse in person than they do on tv, I was surprised).

Captions for selected photos above:

Philippe Gilbert just couldn't hang in there on the climbs today, even though he has twice won this race in the past. However, it allowed me to get the best shot of any cyclist I've ever gotten so, thanks for falling off the back Phil!

Voeckler parts the tufosi, who, even though he is French, were supportive of his brave efforts.

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.