velotel
10-29-2012, 03:53 PM
Two quickie rides in Italian wine country had me gnashing for more. Got to San Marino too late for a spin. Next day was open. Just a dinner in the evening, prepared by three Michelin chefs working together so maybe not ‘just’ a dinner. Woke up early, looked outside, fog. Had breakfast, looked outside, fog thinning, weak sun washing over the hills. Temperature in that don’t know zone. As in shorts or tights. Went with the lightweight tights. Bike together, quick burn, rollin’. Downhill out of the gate; the hotel was up on the hill. Downhill to start, uphill to end.
Fog crouched in the valley. A day for the ridges. Group of young (for me young covers a lot of ground) riders decked out in racer gear up ahead. And I’m closing on em’. Not intentionally, they’re just slow going down. Burn by some with a wave and ‘ciao’. No response. Normal. Bigger group just ahead. I sit up, not interested in dicing it up with a group at speed. Besides, the drop is almost finished. The riders I passed sprint by, out of the saddle, working the bikes hard. They join the group. Pace picks up.
On a ridge heading out of San Marino. Great view when it’s clear. The Adriatic in the distance on the left, round hills stacked to the right. The sea and valleys lost in gray today. Not me. In the sun, warming up, feeling good, rolling well. The youngsters up ahead, taking the lane, ignoring cars, and not dropping me. Either they dress faster than they ride or I’m having a very good morning. Road pitches up, curls through a lovely S turn. I’ve ridden down it a lot over the years; sweet carving. Got clocked by the cops with radar once coming out of the final turn. They laughed and waved as I swept by way over the limit. Going up the limit was safe. Saw heads in the group swivel and look at me as they were exiting the curve I was just entering. A string was pulled and they all stood up in the same movement and accelerated. But not enough to drop me. Have to admit I liked that. A momentary diversion into a world I got dropped from long ago.
Hit the intersection with the road I wanted. Hard right and up. Sun burning on my back. Felt so good. Still happy with the tights though. Into a long curve to the left. Stopped to shoot the fog in the distance. Dumb idea but liked it at the time. Off again. Past a restaurant where we’ve eaten well twice. But not in a long time. Nothing but fields on either side of the road, the right sweeping back down to San Marino, the left dropping into le Marche, one of Italy’s lesser known for reasons I’ve never understood regions. In the distant fog is Urbino, a walled-in university city, also a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Terrific place. Years ago I rode over for lunch and back. A long day.
Topped out, road went flat, then down into a hamlet. Spotted a restaurant we’ve eaten at, terrific homemade pasta and sauces, good wines too. Small wrinkle though. This wasn’t where I wanted to be. My head must have been a bit too euphoric rolling out of San Marino. Took the wrong road. Decided what the heck, find out where the road through the hamlet goes. Pavement petered out but the road continued. Good terrain for mountain bikes. Especially ones with drop bars and 24mm Vittoria Pave tires. I knew the road I wanted was further up the hill. The track was heading up the hill. Figured it might tie in with the paved road up top. Rough looking but for an old mountain biker and a 34/27 climbing gear, no problem.
Steep, rocky grades mixed with sometimes pretty humid soil made for a nice challenge. Thankfully it went up the hill like a staircase. Hard pitch, easy pitch, hard pitch easy pitch. I needed those rest areas. I was always good at climbing on a mountain bike. Don’t know why. Just the way it was. The moves, the balance, the dance between power and weight distribution all came back. Almost made me want to start mountain biking again, bad vision or not.
The antennas on the summit of the hill were getting closer. Starting patting myself on the back for pulling off a great save and bagging a fine climb. Got to a gate. Private property. With an occupied house. And a sign about guard dogs. The road I wanted was a couple hundred meters further up the hill, the gate was open, the house off to the left. Maybe the track went straight on through and up to the road. Stroked past the gate, dogs went orally ballistic. Turned around, reversed everything I’d ridden, all the way back to the road where I’d seen the youth parade rolling off into the distance. So close yet so far.
Small, twisty road to Montegrimano. Into the village, turn right, bear right onto a one-laner going up. Fast. The road, not me. Double-digit steepness. Realized I’d never ridden it this direction. Steeper going up than going down. Out of the village, then out of the trees. Past a farm. Lots of vertical and no let up. Big views out over the fog. Hit a long section of easier grades. Flicked the shifter a couple of times, then again. Yea! San Marino way off to the right, fog-free. Past a hunting club, dogs in the kennels giving me a little Pavarotti effect as I roll by. Road pitches down, not too much, just enough. Flicking down the cluster, then up onto the big ring. Don’t know what happened but I’m feeling seriously good, the legs still fresh. Around a long curve then up again. Well, maybe the legs aren’t all that fresh. But still good. Maybe even good enough for a road I’ve never climbed. Why not.
Change plans. Instead of following the ridge then over a col and down to St Leo, a pretty amazing village perched on a rock with a monastery on the summit, I turn right onto a small road I know, but only in the other direction. Steep enough for some major acceleration. Fast, round turns through a forest, fingers floating on the brake levers. Narrow road and Italian drivers operate on the assumption no one else is driving. Burst out of the trees and see the road plunging down, following a round ridge with fields on either side. Gravity pulling hard. Big sections of pavement missing. Been like that for years. Just follow the bands of black. Big speed. Into a village, road narrows, zigs through. And out. Speed run again. Down to a bigger village on the border.
Could get interesting now. I know the road, but only going up. Stupidly steep, double digits with the first digit a 2! I think there’s even a ramp around 30. I’ve driven down it and that’s impressive. Over a roll and the road is invisible for a moment. Like driving in San Franciso. Usually I don’t like riding down super steep roads. Forever battling gravity with the brakes. Let go and the bike rockets ahead hitting speeds that outrun the road. I was afraid that would be the case here but the road I wanted to ride was a little bit after the bottom. So down it was. Yes! The pavement was in excellent condition, the bends round for big speed. Plus open sight lines. Kicked in with a plunge like on a roller coaster then into a soft left past a farm. The brakes were like a conductor’s wand, telling the bike to hold that note, play it out, then suddenly releasing, the bike leaping ahead and flying down a straight onto a flat. Across the flat, up over a slight roll, and another plunge. Only this one was longer, down through a generous S turn. Unreal. How fast? No idea. More than enough. Wasn’t all that long, a K and a half, maybe a bit more, but as good a drop as any I’ve ever done. If someone had offered me a ride back up to do it again, I would have.
No one did. Instead a hundred meters after the bottom was the climb I wanted to do. Had doubts I could ride it but this was the day to give it a run. Small road, one lane plus, max, no straights, just round curves one after the other. All steep. Double digits, maybe even high teens at times but that was probably just my legs whimpering while my ego was bragging. Actually surprised myself and rode it in good style. And enjoyed the heck out of it.
Finally hit a main road up to the old city above. Still steep but nothing dramatic. A nice, steady roll to wrap up a particularly fine day on the bike. A day with a bit of everything, even a good dose of mountain biking! Now I just had to hope like hell this gourmet meal in the evening would have enough to eat! Sometimes meals like that can be way heavier on the artistic flairs than on food to eat. No fears there as it turned out. I was impressed. Have to say that as a rule fancy meals don’t do all that much for me. Give me a plate full of good pasta, preferably handmade, al dente, italian al dente not american al dente, covered with fresh, raw veges and I’m in heaven. But these three guys and their support staff put out an incredible meal, six courses, each with its own seriously good wine. Copious too. In fact too copious for me. A perfect cap to a fine day.
And now the pics for those who didn’t just skip ahead to here. As usual, in order of appearance. Enjoy.
Fog crouched in the valley. A day for the ridges. Group of young (for me young covers a lot of ground) riders decked out in racer gear up ahead. And I’m closing on em’. Not intentionally, they’re just slow going down. Burn by some with a wave and ‘ciao’. No response. Normal. Bigger group just ahead. I sit up, not interested in dicing it up with a group at speed. Besides, the drop is almost finished. The riders I passed sprint by, out of the saddle, working the bikes hard. They join the group. Pace picks up.
On a ridge heading out of San Marino. Great view when it’s clear. The Adriatic in the distance on the left, round hills stacked to the right. The sea and valleys lost in gray today. Not me. In the sun, warming up, feeling good, rolling well. The youngsters up ahead, taking the lane, ignoring cars, and not dropping me. Either they dress faster than they ride or I’m having a very good morning. Road pitches up, curls through a lovely S turn. I’ve ridden down it a lot over the years; sweet carving. Got clocked by the cops with radar once coming out of the final turn. They laughed and waved as I swept by way over the limit. Going up the limit was safe. Saw heads in the group swivel and look at me as they were exiting the curve I was just entering. A string was pulled and they all stood up in the same movement and accelerated. But not enough to drop me. Have to admit I liked that. A momentary diversion into a world I got dropped from long ago.
Hit the intersection with the road I wanted. Hard right and up. Sun burning on my back. Felt so good. Still happy with the tights though. Into a long curve to the left. Stopped to shoot the fog in the distance. Dumb idea but liked it at the time. Off again. Past a restaurant where we’ve eaten well twice. But not in a long time. Nothing but fields on either side of the road, the right sweeping back down to San Marino, the left dropping into le Marche, one of Italy’s lesser known for reasons I’ve never understood regions. In the distant fog is Urbino, a walled-in university city, also a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Terrific place. Years ago I rode over for lunch and back. A long day.
Topped out, road went flat, then down into a hamlet. Spotted a restaurant we’ve eaten at, terrific homemade pasta and sauces, good wines too. Small wrinkle though. This wasn’t where I wanted to be. My head must have been a bit too euphoric rolling out of San Marino. Took the wrong road. Decided what the heck, find out where the road through the hamlet goes. Pavement petered out but the road continued. Good terrain for mountain bikes. Especially ones with drop bars and 24mm Vittoria Pave tires. I knew the road I wanted was further up the hill. The track was heading up the hill. Figured it might tie in with the paved road up top. Rough looking but for an old mountain biker and a 34/27 climbing gear, no problem.
Steep, rocky grades mixed with sometimes pretty humid soil made for a nice challenge. Thankfully it went up the hill like a staircase. Hard pitch, easy pitch, hard pitch easy pitch. I needed those rest areas. I was always good at climbing on a mountain bike. Don’t know why. Just the way it was. The moves, the balance, the dance between power and weight distribution all came back. Almost made me want to start mountain biking again, bad vision or not.
The antennas on the summit of the hill were getting closer. Starting patting myself on the back for pulling off a great save and bagging a fine climb. Got to a gate. Private property. With an occupied house. And a sign about guard dogs. The road I wanted was a couple hundred meters further up the hill, the gate was open, the house off to the left. Maybe the track went straight on through and up to the road. Stroked past the gate, dogs went orally ballistic. Turned around, reversed everything I’d ridden, all the way back to the road where I’d seen the youth parade rolling off into the distance. So close yet so far.
Small, twisty road to Montegrimano. Into the village, turn right, bear right onto a one-laner going up. Fast. The road, not me. Double-digit steepness. Realized I’d never ridden it this direction. Steeper going up than going down. Out of the village, then out of the trees. Past a farm. Lots of vertical and no let up. Big views out over the fog. Hit a long section of easier grades. Flicked the shifter a couple of times, then again. Yea! San Marino way off to the right, fog-free. Past a hunting club, dogs in the kennels giving me a little Pavarotti effect as I roll by. Road pitches down, not too much, just enough. Flicking down the cluster, then up onto the big ring. Don’t know what happened but I’m feeling seriously good, the legs still fresh. Around a long curve then up again. Well, maybe the legs aren’t all that fresh. But still good. Maybe even good enough for a road I’ve never climbed. Why not.
Change plans. Instead of following the ridge then over a col and down to St Leo, a pretty amazing village perched on a rock with a monastery on the summit, I turn right onto a small road I know, but only in the other direction. Steep enough for some major acceleration. Fast, round turns through a forest, fingers floating on the brake levers. Narrow road and Italian drivers operate on the assumption no one else is driving. Burst out of the trees and see the road plunging down, following a round ridge with fields on either side. Gravity pulling hard. Big sections of pavement missing. Been like that for years. Just follow the bands of black. Big speed. Into a village, road narrows, zigs through. And out. Speed run again. Down to a bigger village on the border.
Could get interesting now. I know the road, but only going up. Stupidly steep, double digits with the first digit a 2! I think there’s even a ramp around 30. I’ve driven down it and that’s impressive. Over a roll and the road is invisible for a moment. Like driving in San Franciso. Usually I don’t like riding down super steep roads. Forever battling gravity with the brakes. Let go and the bike rockets ahead hitting speeds that outrun the road. I was afraid that would be the case here but the road I wanted to ride was a little bit after the bottom. So down it was. Yes! The pavement was in excellent condition, the bends round for big speed. Plus open sight lines. Kicked in with a plunge like on a roller coaster then into a soft left past a farm. The brakes were like a conductor’s wand, telling the bike to hold that note, play it out, then suddenly releasing, the bike leaping ahead and flying down a straight onto a flat. Across the flat, up over a slight roll, and another plunge. Only this one was longer, down through a generous S turn. Unreal. How fast? No idea. More than enough. Wasn’t all that long, a K and a half, maybe a bit more, but as good a drop as any I’ve ever done. If someone had offered me a ride back up to do it again, I would have.
No one did. Instead a hundred meters after the bottom was the climb I wanted to do. Had doubts I could ride it but this was the day to give it a run. Small road, one lane plus, max, no straights, just round curves one after the other. All steep. Double digits, maybe even high teens at times but that was probably just my legs whimpering while my ego was bragging. Actually surprised myself and rode it in good style. And enjoyed the heck out of it.
Finally hit a main road up to the old city above. Still steep but nothing dramatic. A nice, steady roll to wrap up a particularly fine day on the bike. A day with a bit of everything, even a good dose of mountain biking! Now I just had to hope like hell this gourmet meal in the evening would have enough to eat! Sometimes meals like that can be way heavier on the artistic flairs than on food to eat. No fears there as it turned out. I was impressed. Have to say that as a rule fancy meals don’t do all that much for me. Give me a plate full of good pasta, preferably handmade, al dente, italian al dente not american al dente, covered with fresh, raw veges and I’m in heaven. But these three guys and their support staff put out an incredible meal, six courses, each with its own seriously good wine. Copious too. In fact too copious for me. A perfect cap to a fine day.
And now the pics for those who didn’t just skip ahead to here. As usual, in order of appearance. Enjoy.