Boys Own Adventure
Today is a non climbing day (the day formerly known as a rest day but not anymore) so we head out for a ride.
Last time we only ascended about 500m so this time we aim a little higher.
We start about 7:30, just as it becomes light enough to ride without lights on the bike, and roll through the old town centre of Arco. Only a few cafes are open and very few people are about.
Hop onto the main road and Charlie is almost immediately wiped out by a car pulling out on him.
A nervy start.
After less than 2 minutes riding we turn off into Massone and the road kicks up. And it will not ease up until we have climbed almost 700m. Through Massone and the impossibly narrow roads we climb and then out into the olive groves. Up past the climbing area and then the road narrows and starts to steepen. And steepen again before becoming positively brutal. We welcome the coolness of the morning as already we are sweating it up.
Charlie had been riding easy and allowing me to stay with him on the lower section. Higher up the effects of the ride Charlie did yesterday up to Drenna Castle begin to appear and now we are holding the same pace. The angle has not eased. The obscenities first whispered under our breadth can now be heard, and soon they are bellowed into the forest. The forest thankfully doesn't reply.
Above, the moon is still in the sky, below is Arco castle atop the high cliffs of Colodri, and in front the road continues to rise. Thankfully there is little traffic, and the odd car that passes does so respectfully.
Decision point: turn left and contour across to Drenna Castle or continue the climb. There is little discussion and we turn right and continue climbing. I had to pay an extra 40e to have compact cranks fitted to the bike and the cost has been long forgotten.
Finally, the angle of the road eases and the bikes roll with little effort. We haven't topped out, as we are only on a shoulder of a larger mountain, but this was our target. According to the map (!), only another short sharp rise and then the descent to Drenna.
But, as the road kicks up again the surface of the road changes to lumpy pieces of limestone embedded in rough cement. Dealing with the slipperyness of the polished limestone would be difficult on a mountain bike but on a road bike it is diabolical. The angle here is the steepest and we are no longer cycling: just standing and stomping on the pedals.
When the angle eases the road turns to dirt. WHAT! The adventure begins. We check the map and the only explanation is we must have missed the turn off to Callibri. According to the map, this trail continues for a few hundred metres where it rejoins the road we hoped to descend on.
Neither of us can face riding back down the polished limestone so begin walking.
And walking, and walking, wearing road cycling shoes on hilly gravel roads. The golden morning light setting the 800m cliffs on the opposite side of the valley aglow provides a spectacular setting for our misery. We do not capture any of that sun but instead are walking, lathered in sweat from our climb, in the deep shade of the forest. The temperature cannot be above 5 deg C and we quickly cool and are now uncomfortable.
We reach Callibri. So, we had not missed a turn: the map had shown the road as surfaced when it is not. No small matter. If I had not seen this I would not have believed that such a place existed in modern Italy. If a pig squeals now I think I’ll just start running and not look back.
Sick of walking we decide to slowly roll down the hill, still on the dirt, now shivering with cold.
There can be no recriminations, we had each wanted to do this ride and had both looked at the map. Rolling down a steep hill, with tight hairpin turns, a gravel road is no fun. Stones fly out from under the wheels and the juddering .....
At last, we hit bitumen, and can roll down to Drenna. The misery felt from the old is turning to pain as we fly down the hill and the shaking of the bike from my shivering is discomforting. Into town and dodge the two old men standing in the middle of the road talking, the lady pushing a pram (there is always a lady with a pram in Italy) and the small tractor on the wrong side of the road. Slide to a stop at the Stop sign: "Charlie, I'm suffering". "coffee!" the correct reply.
We roll through town and stop at the cafe at the base of the Castle. The warmth inside is unbelievable and very welcome. The waitress and old men in the cafe have a friendly laugh at our obvious discomfort.
By the time I have finished my coffee the old man has eased through two glasses of grappa: it is barely 9:30.
