On our way to Italy, we stopped at the lovely town of Marlenheim in the Alsace region of France. Bistro food reputedly was born in Alsace, and we were not disappointed. Flowers hanging from timber framed houses and buildings abound, and the beautiful Vosges mountains are the backdrop for tidy vineyards and enchanting villages of this region. This is heavenly country for leisurely cycling, and I hope we may return one day.
Then we spent two days in picturesque Bellagio, which sits splendidly on a peninsula surrounded by Lake Como and the mountains. Our quiet hotel was an old villa tucked away in the peaceful Pescallo section of town separated from the touristy bustle by at least 500 cobble stone stairs. Our balcony commanded a magnificent view of the lake and boats with mountains rising sharply into the sky.
On our first morning, I peddled up the 6-mile stretch of the fabled Giro di Lombardia pro cycling race. My destination was the shrine and museum of Madonna del Ghisallo dedicated to Italian cyclists. In the afternoon, Linda treated us to a ride in a handsome wooden inboard around Lake Como. Our Skipper, Luca, enchanted his passengers with lakeside stories and sparkling prosecco. The Lake Como area is spectacular cycling for stronger riders who enjoy climbing hills, and the road surface, unlike what were to experience in Tuscany, was smooth tarmac.
And what can we say of Tuscany? Like Bellagio, the afternoon sunlight dazzles, and the food and wine are incomparable. But the real enchantment are the people. We stayed at a B&B near the little village of Vagliagli roughly 8 km from L'Eroica's home base of Gaiole in Chianti. From the deck of their lovely swimming pool, we could see a stretch of the L'Eroica's 'strade bianche' (white roads).
Our B&B hosts embraced us as family. The first evening, we were invited to join our fellow guests from Norway for a barbecue as only Tuscans can do it. We opened with Francesca's crostini. She and her mom, Sara, had grilled eggplant and peppers for the occasion. Papa Carlo piled on the BBQ'd pork and sausages. Then came his enormous Val di Chiana T-bone steaks! Did I forget the Chianti Classico from the vineyard next door and the superb bottle of Brunello di Montalcino Carlo brought out? Then, Carlo poured out vin santo dessert wine and then his own special grappa? Mama mia! Linda and I packed ourselves upstairs leaving the Norwegians to party till God knows when?
L'Eroica opens with a two-day festa of vintage bici (bikes), bici parts, wool & bici leather apparel, and local foods and vini. It was remarkable to see so many younger riders and their families appreciate old bikes and the history of cycling.
At last, at '0 dark 30' on Sunday, the heroics commenced. On my drive over to Giaole, I passed a rider on his bike in the middle of nowhere. He had a L'Eroica number on his back so I stopped. Here was Greg, a carpenter from Seattle, on his way to the start in Gaiole, and he was riding there FROM SIENA! Greg gratefully accepted a lift, and I had a riding buddy for the 'O dark' start.
The first 'ristoro' (rest stop) at Radi was a mad house. I'd lost Greg in the shuffle and so continued on. The white roads were mined with chunks of smooth slate pavers and moguls of white gravel that rattled my teeth. I prayed my dear ole Trek 760 might hang together? I passed a few riders who flatted and wondered.
We rode in a crowd for the first 60 kilometers. L'Eroica enrolled close to 4,000 riders, and I was surprised to see so many out for an early start on the 135 and 205 kilometer routes. Riders bunched up on the 'strade bianche,' and we jostled for a good line with grip that wouldn't bounce us into others, or suck our front wheel into the ditch, or worse. It was an entirely new experience for me to be riding in crowds on roads like these. But everyone kept their cool and looked out for one another.
After 60 ‘Klicks,’ the 205 and 135 kilometer routes split, and suddenly I found myself riding alone. Was I off the course? Not yet, as I was soon joined by other 205ers on the way up the hill to the 'mecca' of Tuscan viniculture - Montalcino. This is a 15 by 15 section of strada bianca... 15 kilometers and gravel grades upwards of 15%.
I linked up with a landscape architect from Zurich. Alexander smiled at everything and was a delight to ride with. We grinned our way up the big 'strada bianca' climb to Montalcino, the highest point on the 205 km route. I was gassed but hopeful as we rolled through town over the top.
We flew off Montalcino on a wide smooth 'strada asfaltata' recovering our strength as we carved through turn after glorious turn. The 760 was lovin it. Alas, we entered another section of 'strada bianca,' but I was back to feeling chipper, and celebrated with a shot glass of Montalcino rosso at the Pieve a Salti 'ristoro.' Praise Madonna; Only 100 ‘Klicks’ to go.
We rejoined the 135 riders in the medieval walled town of Buonconvento and slugged our way north over steep stabbing hills to Asciano and Pianella. Riders were now off their bikes, and I fought for a good line with grip to get around them. "Scusa. Permesso piacere?" Then, "Merde!" My front wheel dug in, and now I was off the bike and forced to walk up. This was not a disgrace however, because L'Eroica is essentially a giant cyclocross course on skinny tires?
On the descents, the minefields of slate and moguls pummeled me about the neck, shoulders and arms. I squeezed the brake levers for dear life. As Italian hill walkers scorched the descents, I called out, "Scusa. Mi dispiace," taking care to stay out of their way and still avoid the minefields, moguls, and tire sucking bianca gravel. At long last, we arrived at the Pianella junction and gratefully followed the setting sun and permanent L'Eroica signs up towards Vagliagli.
This was a long steady climb that flattens out as it passes close by our B&B. Praise Madonna; it wasn't nearly as steep, but we were now joined by cars filled with Italians following their riders or out wine tasting on a fine Sunday afternoon. The road suddenly became an 'AUTOSTRADA bianca,' as flying dust stung in my eyes and threatened asphyxiation. I prayed yet again to the Blessed Virgin for Route 102 -- a 'strada asfaltata' leading into Vagliagli.
Linda and I had 7:30 dinner reservations at the sensational 'Taverna' in Vagliagli where we'd been on Friday evening. It was evident we wouldn't make that, so I stopped to tell them, but they were closed. I rolled over to the pizza parlor where we had had an apertivo on Friday evening to inquire if they might call the 'Taverna' to let them know we'd be an hour late.
"Certo. Non e un problema." The ladies at the pizza parlor and wine bar were so sweet and asked how far I was riding. I told them, "due cento cinque kilometri." Suddenly, everyone in the place saluted me with "Bravo!" and Bravissimo!" My chest puffed up, and I blew them kisses and pointed my dusty but trusty 760 down the hill towards Radda in Chianti.
This was a very long and steep strada bianca descent with several tight turns. But my Vagliagli fan club had cheered me on, and it was getting too dark now to worry about minefields and moguls. We were on the home stretch, so I eased off the brakes and let my ole Trek roll. Only two more big climbs remained, and they were on ‘strade asfaltate.' I visualized an attaccare, come ‘Spartacus’ Cancellara, on the last climb up to Vertine.
But during the assent to Radda, I realized there would be no attacking today. Legs were spent and my damned headlight flickered feebly at the dark. Throughout the day, I'd been encouraging my trusty 760 that if it could make it, so might I. We turned off at the top of the final climb and headed over to the sweet little village of Vertine on the last stretch of strade bianche. Young Italian kamikazes flew by with no lights. I wasn’t the only one juiced up for the finish.
We hung a hard left before entering Vertine and were finally on the home stretch of ‘asfaltata’ twisting and shouting our way down the darkened hill to 'Arrivo' in Gaiole. "All hail the conquering heros!" Three young Italian guys hugged each other at the finish. Their families cried 'Bravos.' A couple lads my age in historic costume exchanged dopo L'Eroica notes. I mounted the ramp, hoisted my magnificent 760 in victory for the photographer and walked down to collect my reward-- a hardbound book of fictional fantasy in Italian, a panforte, and a bottle of chianti classico.
But oh no! I'd forgotten where we had parked the car and spent another half hour walking and shivering my dusty bicycle and reward bag around Gaiole looking for it. Thanks once again to our Blessed Madonna and the remote key entry button for helping me find our Renault Megane.
I coaxed through the Tuscan countryside and arrived back at the B&B at 9 pm to hugs from Linda and our hosts Francesa, Mama Sara, and Papa Carlo. After a quick shower, Linda and I headed to 'Taverna' for a later-than-planned victory supper. That evening, as we sipped a delicious dark Nobile di Montepulciano Dei and savored the veal in chianti sauce. Glasses were hoisted with other L'Eroica 'heros' and we capped the evening with an angelic chocolate pear torte.
We'll have no vin santo or grappa tonight, however, but pinch me! Was this the test ride for heaven?
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