Our last ride
before the rest day offered good weather and lots of climbing. The two route options forced your hand
early. The last seventy kilometers were
the same you just had to decide if you wanted to precede that with a gradual
downhill or multiple climbs.
Let's get going
After weighing
options El Jefe and I opted to start the day with the downhill and if we were
later feeling frisky we could add in some bonus climbing. Putting the choice at the end seemed to lower
the risk of blowing up. Also, my
training had been focused on completing the routes not trying to keep up with
the murderers. This way I wouldn’t hold
them up but could end up a big day.
El Jefe' heffing along
We started off
in a large group with a rolling descent that reminded me of France. One of the big differences between this trip
and our previous exploits in France was that there was so much more traffic on
the roads of Italy we were forced to ride single file nearly all of the time.
This part of the week reminded me of how much I enjoyed the wonderful side by side
riding we had experienced in the French countryside.
Ziiiiiiiig!!!
Soon the
climbing started and as we snaked up a valley we scanned the surrounding
mountains trying to predict where we might climb and pass into a different
drainage. It was a Monday and this road had
less traffic.
Lutz was riding so fast the background was blurry
KB and I took our
time. We passed hillside farms and small
cottages as we churned up the thousand meter climb.
The climb was
generally shady which kept us cool. Occasional breaks for sunshine and views
provided motivation not to rush to the top head down, drilling it. We climbed at a conversational pace and
nearing the top El Jefe’ sped past us going back down the hill.
Above it all
These were the kilometer markers. Because the climbs were so steep they actually had these every tenth of a kilometer. This reads as 20.4km.
Could KB be any more Euro ? I don't think so
Davo nearing the top the FIRST time
When we reached
Passo d’Brocon our group had reformed and I refilled my bottles. A minute later
we began one of the best descents of the entire trip. Clean dry pavement, sunshine and the
knowledge that tomorrow was a rest day conspired to make the descent a blast.
As we neared the
bottom I pulled over and took a long drink. I let the others go past. I spun my
bike around and began to climb back up the twisty road I had just come
down. I know I couldn’t keep up with the
murderers on a climb but I can hang on a descent. I would go back up until I met them
descending then I would ride the rest of the day with them.
As I was
climbing I should have been wobbly legged from four days of epic rides. This trip was like RAMROD every day. At my age you just shouldn’t be able to do
that.
Instead I found
a rhythm and locked my HR in low zone three and I just started flying up the
hill. I felt strong and I watched the meters tick past as I climbed up and
up. I wondered when I would meet the
murderers.
I kept going and
when I had less than a hundred meters of climbing left I sped up and kept a
good pace across the rollers at the top of the Passo. I reached the summit and spotted the fast
guys getting ready to roll out.
They were as
surprised to see me as I was that I had gone all the way back to the top before
intercepting them. Almost on queue El
Jefe rolled up and together the five of us formed a paceline and set off on the
descent.
With Whiplaesch
in the lead we snaked down the switchbacks toward our hotel in Spera. A car stopped in our lane caused some
sphincter clenching but soon we returned to our graceful downhill bike
ballet. McWoodie and Mr. Party Pants
stayed tight on Brad’s wheel while El Jefe and I had to work to stay on.
After we got
down from the mountain El Jefe and I found ourselves off the back and we worked
together. We had both supersized our day
and already had over three thousand meters of climbing in our legs.
Finding the
hotel without the GPS route would have been impossible and we were glad for the
technology that delivered us there. It
is beautiful but I am reminded I am a strange man in a strange land.
I miss Hottie
and I’m tired and ready for a rest day.
At dinner one of our group sadly announces he must return home due to an
emergency. Our hearts go out to him. It is another reminder of just how fragile
this whole experience is.
View from our hotel. Yeah, I know.
I mentioned in
an earlier post all the things that have to go right just to get to the start
of one of these trips. In addition there
are so many things that have to go right once you are here.
First off, you
have to sleep when you are supposed to sleep.
Jet lag, communications with home, excitement, the goofy schedule and
exhaustion all combat getting a good night’s sleep. You also have to eat when
you can and digest when you must. This is easier said than done and I am not
going to elaborate on that anymore herein.
Your bike is
also having an epic experience and needs tender loving care but you are exhausted
and the desire to defer something as simple as lubing your chain is
strong. The language and cultural issues
are what you signed up for but they do add some complexity to the equation. You
need to be diligent about sunscreen, chamois cream(s), hydration, electrolytes,
heart rate, nutrition, caloric intact (ridiculous), weather, hygiene and
clothing.
The worst thing
about the whole trip was Horst getting sick and not being able to ride with us
every day. Horst gave one of us the stink eye regarding this. There will be one less Chismus card coming to America this year........
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