Today we rode a classic: Il Lombardia. From Wikipedia: “The Giro di Lombardia, officially Il Lombardia, is a cycling race in Lombardy, Italy. It is traditionally the last of the five ‘Monuments’ of the season, considered to be one of the most prestigious one-day events in cycling, and one of the last events on the UCI World Tour calendar.”
An early, sickening crash as we pull through Bergamo. Everyone’s wincing and concerned. Is this the end of the trip for someone? One of our group has clipped a bollard with his handlebar and gone ‘over the bars’. Fortunately, it turns out he is made of rubber, and the stainless steel bollard looks ok too. One group cycling etiquette is to point obstacles ahead to riders behind. In Yorkshire, this is mostly used for potholes. A yell of ‘Middle!’ is a hole in the middle of the road, and the two columns of riders will swell around to avoid it. This morning, we were perhaps a bit giddy and joking. It only takes a second’s loss of concentration. We continue, chided, but thankful.
The tortoise and the hares. This will be the furthest I’ve ridden on a bike, and with a wee spot of climbing too. The night before, Captain Slow swapped legs with me, and I decide to save what’s left of them by capping my effort to max heart rate ~140bpm. Annoyingly, the lads disappear up the hill. But, it transpired that my days as Parent helper, practising drills on the Clifton Cycling Club hairpin has turned me into Demon Descender! (credit and thanks to Stephen Reed). In my mind, I am soaring down the descent like a lordly eagle (well, ok probably a duck, or pigeon maybe) and overtake the group. At the foot of the next climb, I transform back into Captain Slow, and the lads sweep past me again. This sets the pattern for the rest of the day.
The long steep ascents are a mental challenge. I have turned into a hot, sweaty popsicle for flies. To distract me, I scan the bountiful wayside botany; yellow, pinks and blues, with butterflies and darting lizards. As we climb higher, the chirruping of crickets and birds replaces the noise of the town, and the jagged mountains rise up into the distance. It is beautiful.
At the top of the third climb, I join the leaders group (with the exception of Ian – he left the hotel pre-breakfast and wasn’t seen by the group all day). We fuel up on sticky coke and ice creams. Boy is it hot!
The fourth climb to Torre De Busi, is tough. Near the top, I catch up with Tony L, and stick my head in a trough of water. Neil joins us, and we fly down to the valley, picking up Brandon, Ju and others. We are out of food, low on drink and everyone is very much looking for the support car. Due to roadworks, the car was unable to follow us over the climb, but we shortly meet outside a restaurant. The restaurant has just shut, so we stand around the car downing fizzy coke, bananas and melted lollies. I squeeze a bag of melted cherryade lolly into my mouth like a blood transfusion (if only!), then we head on.
The lads stop for ‘proper food’ at a pizzeria round the corner. I’m not keen on heavy food, and decide to push on. A storm is brewing…
The sky darkens to an angry purple and the wind fetches up, noisily smashing the leaves of the trees together. Debris gets into my eyes making descents difficult. Car alarms are wailing and people running for cover as I feel heavy raindrops splash onto my back. It would be easy to start believing that Mountain Gods exist.
Today, they spared us. Despite the evidence of heavy rain further on the route, miraculously we avoid a drenching.
I pedal on, catching up with Mike and Mike outside The Cafe from Heaven. Not its real name, but given the insides, what it should be called. It is crammed with every type of patisserie imaginable.
Mike is chomping a ‘pastry that the cyclists like’, it is stuffed with raisins and custard. Will it help me cycle further? Probably if I could get it down my neck. Hard to admit, but after a lot of sports drink and sweet sports bars, I’ve (temporarily!) lost my lust for cake. Oh no!
Brandon, Ju, Iggy and Tony L join us and we press on. The route has an escape option, you can cut out the 20 miler loop to Lake Como. It is a mental battle to turn right (and not everyone does), and I know it’s going to be a struggle, but I point the bike right. The descent to Lake Como is slippery and wet from the recent rain. Leaves and twigs, debris from the recent storm, line the road edges in clumps. I feel my back wheel slip on a hairpin and continue more gingerly. Ju’s back brake is not working, and his front brake sounds like a mating rhinoceros. When we arrive at the lakeside, pretty much everyone is aware we’ve arrived.
We don’t even stop for gelato!!! To be fair, we’re going to be late to the hotel as it is. We turn away from the lake, then shortly, begin the murderous final climb. All 700m of it, as two, ~9% slopes. It is horrible. At the top, there is a monument and ots of bronze busts of male cyclists on pedestals, and an inscription that I can’t read but guess is something about their bravery:
With still 15 miles to go, and a chill in the air, we squish sore bottoms onto our saddles and fly down the hill towards our Hotel Locanda dell’Oca Bianca in Como. I’m a bit broken, but I still have reserves. Speeding up for the last couple of miles and taking the steep hotel ramp as a sprint. How long does anyone go before they really can’t cycle any more?
We arrive at 9:30pm, and a bowl of cheesy risotto certainly hits the spot at dinner. Others are still to make it back and it’s getting dark. Tony and Kerry stagger in at 11:30pm. They look a bit cooked, but at least we saved them some supper.
Brandon ‘The Machine’ described it as “The hardest ride I’ve ever done“. Kerry was moire succinct with “F**King hard and f**king long”. Ju ‘Beast on a Bike’ nicely summarised:
“Not for the feint hearted, maybe best not to know what you’re letting yourself in for, but when your new Garmin tells you you’re on climb 1 of 14 it’s hard not to feel a little dread, especially when most of over 10 miles of climb 2 is between 9-13% gradient! However crack on we must and gradually we began to count the miles down fuelled by Magnums and mistakenly lemon tea! Bellagio was a beautiful if brief pit stop which soon after is the piece de resistance a near 6 mile climb designed to finish you off, I cried a little at this point and wished to be home. However the descent eventually arrived but at the point I could no longer see I stopped at McDonald’s and had a life saving coke! Then not far to go but finished well and truly on an empty tank, bravissimo!
Tomorrow is a gentle pootle into Milan for authentic Italian pizza, then bike fettling at the next hotel.
Chapeau x
Sounds brutal Liz – well done!
Blimey, lost your appetite for cake… unbelievable!