John Price
11-08-2012, 01:09 PM
Asciano was the location of the next ristori. Lots of riders were gathered here, taking a break. We rolled in, got our cards stamped at the control and joined the queues for the food. Here the volunteers were also cooking and serving ribollita, a hearty soup of white beans, olive oil, tomatoes, onions… very tasty and good energy replenishment for riding long hours on a bike. Again the volunteers were dressed in traditional outfits. Like the other rest stops there were also pastries, breads, cheeses, and fruits to pick from. And of course more wine. Chad and I took a nice break here, eating and chatting with fellow riders. After a short while I saw James here but no Paul. Turns out he had 5 more flats and ultimately had to abandon the ride. Hopefully he’ll get a chance to come back and ride L’Eroica again. Needless to say I was quite pleased to be riding the tires I selected – Panaracer Pasela Tourguards, they were not fragile racing tires, and at 32 wide they provided plenty of confidence on the gravel roads. Sure they were not as racy and fast as some of my fellow riders’ choices but at the same time I wasn’t spending my time on the side of the road patching flats or booting cut sidewalls. And on the gravel I had a decided advantage and was able to handily ride past those on 23-25s. I also saw some bikes equipped with heavy treaded cyclocross tires. Perhaps overkill here but I’ll stick to my Paselas as the ideal tire for L’Eroica.
My bike got some special attention at the Asciano stop. One of the official photographers for the event was looking it over. When he realized that it was my bike he wanted to know all about it. He seemed quite impressed that I had built the frameset myself. He took several photos of my bike but I’ve yet to see them posted online anywhere. Ah well.
Leaving Asciano after stopping perhaps too long (legs were starting to cool and stiffen up) we were immediately confronted with another steep gravel climb. Wouldn’t you know, the photographer was now riding in the back of a small truck directly in front of me, snapping away. So, here I was cooled down, stiff, struggling up a steep climb and being photographed. And all I could think was, “Don’t give up and walk here, not with the photographer who was so impressed that I built my own bike, taking pictures. Not now.” And then I just couldn’t turn the pedals any more. I came to a stop, dismounted and walked. Thankfully he lowered his camera and the truck sped off to find a stronger rider.
Somewhere north of Asciano, I came to a particularly steep and twisty downhill section of strada biancha. Until now, the gravel had given me no troubles. On this descent I built up a bit too much speed, feeling confident on my Paselas I guess, when I came to a curve realizing I was going too fast. Braking for all it’s worth I just couldn’t slow down enough. Luckily the grass verge was wide enough for me to come to a stop after overshooting the curve without ending up in the middle of some farmer’s vineyard. Acting like I meant to do that I pulled out my camera and took photos of riders as they ever so carefully crept down this steep and tricky section. A young woman rider caught my eye. She had tears in her eyes and looked noticeably upset on this descent. She TIMIDLY rode down the hill almost stopping every 10-20 ft. I’m sure her arms were aching from braking so hard, her whole body looked to be shaking with the effort to go so slowly. After a bit I put my camera away and continued down. As the road finally leveled off at the bottom I caught up with the young woman, now safely down. She looked shaken but she’d made it down safely. As I rode by I called out, “Brava!” and waved to her. She gave me a smile back for my encouragement.
From now on my body started to feel the effects of the constant climbing and long hours riding. I was walking more hills than I cared to admit. This also gave me occasions to wait for Chad to see how he was doing. He too was walking more and more up the hills.
Finally we rode into the final control at Castelnuovo where had more wonderful ribollita and other goodies to eat. We didn’t linger here long as both Chad and I were now looking forward to getting back to Gaiole. As we rode out of Castelnuovo Chad told me to not bother waiting for him along the way now, that we’d see each other at the end. So off I went, we were heading down hill on smooth curving pavement and I was feeling good. I was riding from one group of riders to the next. More strade bianche lay ahead, we were riding back onto the same roads we started on. And then I bonked. Big time. Looking back I don’t think I ate enough at the Castelnuovo stop. And now I was paying the price. I had no energy left for the climbs. I evidently wasn’t the only one though. Riding up one hill I came upon two Italians walking their bikes. As the road steepened and I rolled to a stop behind them, dismounted and began walking, they called out cheerfully, “Join us, it’s a nice walk”. They knew I was suffering just like them. They knew too that keeping good spirits helped a lot. So we walked for a while together the 3 of us. They must’ve exhausted their English as the chattered away in Italian. I didn’t understand a word but we seemed to laugh at the same thing, whatever it was they said. As the road leveled out some they hopped back on their bikes and with a “Ciao!” to me they rode off. A few moments later I hopped on my bike and rode after them but just didn’t have the energy to catch back up. They slowly disappeared down the road.
Soon after this I was back going down the climb that had been lit with luminaries that morning. The first section of strada biancha shortly out of Gaiole. It felt good to know I was close to the end and it felt good to be heading downhill.
But that meant I still had more climbing to do – we’d left Gaiole in the morning coasting downhill. I was on that section of pavement now, my bonk still with me. All I could think about was food. I rode past a gas station and wondered about stopping to see if they had anything to eat. But decided to keep going knowing I was near the end. Coming the other way were cars with bikes on the roofs and strapped to the back. These riders were done and heading home now. Not much longer and I’d be done too. Another car passed, Paul and James hanging out the window cheering me on. I was now seeing people walking their bikes to their cars, they’d wave and cheer as I rode by. I was definitely close now. I was thinking how good a sandwich or pizza would taste when I got to the piazza. And then I was alone. There were no more cyclists riding by, no more riders walking their bikes to their cars, no-one. I’d missed my turn into Gaiole somehow. Crap. It was now getting dark and starting to rain too.
Up ahead I spy a couple walking down the road. I stop and ask, “Parla Inglese?” (do you speak English). The man points to his wife. I ask in the simplest English I can muster how to get back to the L’Eroica finish line at Gaiole. She answers in Italian. Thank goodness I can actually understand this little bit as I catch words due kilometri, sinestra… Just when I’m ready to head back the way I’d come a car pulls up with bikes on the rack. The driver speaks perfect English and says he’ll guide me back to Gaiole. So, after 85 miles plus another 3-4 for good measure I ride into the finish area, get my card stamped and signed for the last time, receive my commemorative bottle of wine and FINALLY get to sit under an awning in the piazza with a beer and a panini. Heaven. A short while later Chad shows up. He looks spent. We sit for a while, relaxing, enjoying the company of other L’Eroica riders at the café, eating paninis and drinking beer. While I wish I hadn’t bonked so hard at the end, I felt pretty good for what I’d just accomplished. It’d been a wonderful day all in all. Great scenery, interesting roads, wonderful camaraderie, tasty food and drink. Barely had I finished the ride than I was thinking, “Now that I know what to expect, I’d like to come back and try the 200K route!”.
Hope you enjoyed the write up.
John
My bike got some special attention at the Asciano stop. One of the official photographers for the event was looking it over. When he realized that it was my bike he wanted to know all about it. He seemed quite impressed that I had built the frameset myself. He took several photos of my bike but I’ve yet to see them posted online anywhere. Ah well.
Leaving Asciano after stopping perhaps too long (legs were starting to cool and stiffen up) we were immediately confronted with another steep gravel climb. Wouldn’t you know, the photographer was now riding in the back of a small truck directly in front of me, snapping away. So, here I was cooled down, stiff, struggling up a steep climb and being photographed. And all I could think was, “Don’t give up and walk here, not with the photographer who was so impressed that I built my own bike, taking pictures. Not now.” And then I just couldn’t turn the pedals any more. I came to a stop, dismounted and walked. Thankfully he lowered his camera and the truck sped off to find a stronger rider.
Somewhere north of Asciano, I came to a particularly steep and twisty downhill section of strada biancha. Until now, the gravel had given me no troubles. On this descent I built up a bit too much speed, feeling confident on my Paselas I guess, when I came to a curve realizing I was going too fast. Braking for all it’s worth I just couldn’t slow down enough. Luckily the grass verge was wide enough for me to come to a stop after overshooting the curve without ending up in the middle of some farmer’s vineyard. Acting like I meant to do that I pulled out my camera and took photos of riders as they ever so carefully crept down this steep and tricky section. A young woman rider caught my eye. She had tears in her eyes and looked noticeably upset on this descent. She TIMIDLY rode down the hill almost stopping every 10-20 ft. I’m sure her arms were aching from braking so hard, her whole body looked to be shaking with the effort to go so slowly. After a bit I put my camera away and continued down. As the road finally leveled off at the bottom I caught up with the young woman, now safely down. She looked shaken but she’d made it down safely. As I rode by I called out, “Brava!” and waved to her. She gave me a smile back for my encouragement.
From now on my body started to feel the effects of the constant climbing and long hours riding. I was walking more hills than I cared to admit. This also gave me occasions to wait for Chad to see how he was doing. He too was walking more and more up the hills.
Finally we rode into the final control at Castelnuovo where had more wonderful ribollita and other goodies to eat. We didn’t linger here long as both Chad and I were now looking forward to getting back to Gaiole. As we rode out of Castelnuovo Chad told me to not bother waiting for him along the way now, that we’d see each other at the end. So off I went, we were heading down hill on smooth curving pavement and I was feeling good. I was riding from one group of riders to the next. More strade bianche lay ahead, we were riding back onto the same roads we started on. And then I bonked. Big time. Looking back I don’t think I ate enough at the Castelnuovo stop. And now I was paying the price. I had no energy left for the climbs. I evidently wasn’t the only one though. Riding up one hill I came upon two Italians walking their bikes. As the road steepened and I rolled to a stop behind them, dismounted and began walking, they called out cheerfully, “Join us, it’s a nice walk”. They knew I was suffering just like them. They knew too that keeping good spirits helped a lot. So we walked for a while together the 3 of us. They must’ve exhausted their English as the chattered away in Italian. I didn’t understand a word but we seemed to laugh at the same thing, whatever it was they said. As the road leveled out some they hopped back on their bikes and with a “Ciao!” to me they rode off. A few moments later I hopped on my bike and rode after them but just didn’t have the energy to catch back up. They slowly disappeared down the road.
Soon after this I was back going down the climb that had been lit with luminaries that morning. The first section of strada biancha shortly out of Gaiole. It felt good to know I was close to the end and it felt good to be heading downhill.
But that meant I still had more climbing to do – we’d left Gaiole in the morning coasting downhill. I was on that section of pavement now, my bonk still with me. All I could think about was food. I rode past a gas station and wondered about stopping to see if they had anything to eat. But decided to keep going knowing I was near the end. Coming the other way were cars with bikes on the roofs and strapped to the back. These riders were done and heading home now. Not much longer and I’d be done too. Another car passed, Paul and James hanging out the window cheering me on. I was now seeing people walking their bikes to their cars, they’d wave and cheer as I rode by. I was definitely close now. I was thinking how good a sandwich or pizza would taste when I got to the piazza. And then I was alone. There were no more cyclists riding by, no more riders walking their bikes to their cars, no-one. I’d missed my turn into Gaiole somehow. Crap. It was now getting dark and starting to rain too.
Up ahead I spy a couple walking down the road. I stop and ask, “Parla Inglese?” (do you speak English). The man points to his wife. I ask in the simplest English I can muster how to get back to the L’Eroica finish line at Gaiole. She answers in Italian. Thank goodness I can actually understand this little bit as I catch words due kilometri, sinestra… Just when I’m ready to head back the way I’d come a car pulls up with bikes on the rack. The driver speaks perfect English and says he’ll guide me back to Gaiole. So, after 85 miles plus another 3-4 for good measure I ride into the finish area, get my card stamped and signed for the last time, receive my commemorative bottle of wine and FINALLY get to sit under an awning in the piazza with a beer and a panini. Heaven. A short while later Chad shows up. He looks spent. We sit for a while, relaxing, enjoying the company of other L’Eroica riders at the café, eating paninis and drinking beer. While I wish I hadn’t bonked so hard at the end, I felt pretty good for what I’d just accomplished. It’d been a wonderful day all in all. Great scenery, interesting roads, wonderful camaraderie, tasty food and drink. Barely had I finished the ride than I was thinking, “Now that I know what to expect, I’d like to come back and try the 200K route!”.
Hope you enjoyed the write up.
John