After three days in Switzerland I am off again. The weather in most of Europe is still fairly awful, but the latest weather models indicate that it may be possible to travel south of the Alps for a few days without the imminent chance of being washed into the Mediterranean Sea by flash floods.
But before I leave I have to change the engine oil - it's less than four weeks since I last changed it, but the bike has covered over 8000 km since then.
As a result of this it's 10 am when I set out. Needless to say that the wind still blows from the north and it is 12 degrees when I leave, but it is supposed to be much warmer in the south. But before I get there I have to cross the Alps via the San Bernardino Pass. The tunnel at the summit is only about a mile above sea level, but it is only 8 degrees up there. But once I am on the far side of the mountains the temperature climbs steadily to 23 degrees - I am in bikers heaven, if it weren't for the overpopulated provinces of Lombardy and Piedmont.
But once I am south of the Po river the countryside changes and on the horizon the Apennine Mountains appear:
As a final treat I tackle the Penice pass between Varzi and Bobbio. Once I am over 1000 metres altitude the temperature is back to 12 degrees, but in the Bobbio valley the temperature once again is perfect.
I check out the three hotels in town - the "Piacentino" is my choice, not because the rooms are special but instead because of the impressive list of recommendations and Guide Michelin entries the chef has accumulated. So the day ends with another four-course diner, this time Italian-style.
Alas, not a bad start into the third leg of this journey...
This day was nothing short of spectacular. The Penice pass yesterday was a nice start to the Apennine, but what I biked today was much better. If you zoom into my tracklog for the entire 300 km bit between Bobbio and Gaggio Montano then you'll see that there is not a single straight bit in it - the whole day I was biking winding, twisting minor roads up and down the hills. Have a look at the altitude profile:
This looks like a ride through the high Alps, but it isn't - these totally underrated Italian mountains are simply much higher than expected and totally free of traffic. I learned today that the Italians like their roads low and fast - and these mountain roads are all high and slow. I never managed 50 kph as an average - in nearly eight hours I just did 300 km. Here are a few impressions:
I must however state that the majority of the roads today were in pretty bad shape and some even at third world level. I suppose if Berlusconi had given more attention to building basic infrastructure rather than Bunga-Bunga then these roads would be teeming with visitors from the North. As it is I can only recommend them to experienced bikers. But if you don't mind the potholes, gravel and dust and take the Italian cage driver (usually with one hand holding his mobile phone to one ear, the other holding either a sandwich, a cup or a cigarette and the car itself is on autopilot...) with the respect due to all mentally challenged fellow humans, then you can have the motorbiking time of your life here.
All I can show for these eight hours of solid biking is the distance from the northwestern to the south-eastern End of the Emilia-Romagna and a big smile on my face.
I end the day at Gaggio Montano, where the hotel "Corte Antica" dating from 1578 offers all a tired biker needs to recharge his batteries.
All vehicles sold in Italy come with a special device that infuses the driver with testosterone while he is driving the vehicle. The device only works on male Italians, female inhabitants of this country are generally immune to the effects of the device.
The infusion also diminishes the brain function of the driver. The amount of testosterone infused is directly linked to the perceived status of the vehicle. Small cars like Fiat Puntos or Toyota Yaris leave no noticeable negative effect on the driver. Compact to medium sized vehicles however already result in significantly reduced brain functionality of the driver. From a sporty Audi upwards the driver usually has no detectable brain functionality left - the man is a testosterone-fuelled Zombie who drives his vehicle without any regard to traffic rules, his life or that of anyone else on the road or on the pavement.
I would not complain about this situation, if that testosterone would, aside from the ego of those drivers, also inflate other male commodities out of all proportions. In fact, were this the case then those brain-dead zombies could become my best friends. But, alas, it isn't so, thus I have to suffer these morons overtaking on double-solid lines, before curves and more than once forcing me off the road onto the side-strip when the engine output of the morons vehicle does not match the testosterone-induced imagined performance.
Beyond Firenzuola however the density of these zombies gets out of all proportions. They are joined by a similar amount of morons on two wheels. Today the testosterone infusion appears to be rampant in foreign drivers, too. I am even passed by a few lunatics with Swiss plates. What is going on here? Does everybody believe that they are Valentino Rossi? Someone should tell these kamikaze drivers that Signore Rossi has no driving license for motorbikes and plods around on public roads using a small scooter.
Near Scarperia the mayhem gets somewhat organised; big signs offer guarded bike and car parking for 10 Euros per vehicle. Then I am stopped by some cute fellow in an orange vest and the plot finally gets untangled. Apparently this is the "Via dell'Autodromo" and I am about to enter a racetrack called "Mugello" (I have never heard about that place before) with Tigger where today a three-day event called "Moto GP" is about to begin. And yes, Valentino Rossi himself has already arrived and unless I am a team-mate of him the orange-clad hottie suggests that I turn around and find my way around the racetrack.
Of all the places in petrol-headed Italy I have steered my Tigger to the one place where the core of Europe's petrol heads are congregating. If I'm not careful Jeremy Clarkson is probably running me over in a moment while he's looking for a new job out here. Sod's luck.
But from this bedlam onward I am soon heading back up into the mountains and the stream of crackpots on two and four wheels dwindles back to the universal Italian standard; 52 percent, the percentage of males in this country.
I have reached Umbria. The going is still high and slow, like yesterday. I offset that by biking for nine hours, covering 370 kilometres today. I end the day in the tiny hamlet of Pioraco.
I made about 20 pictures today while biking through the Abruzzo mountains - which means that I tremendously enjoyed the ride today. However, some of those bikers one meets these days on the road may not have biked the entire distance, but instead travelled in this style:
The mountains here are seriously underrated. Here are a few impressions on how it is to bike out here:
As you see from the pics, this are no molehills. The day ends after another 400 km near Bojano. The weak high pressure ridge over Italy has sufficiently heated up to produce thunderstorms over the mountains from tomorrow onward, so I will head for the coast instead.
At 9.30 am I start my journey from the hills to the coast at Manfredonia. No, that is no fantasy European duchy from an old Marx Brothers movie, that place is a real town in Apulia. There, in the Gargano National Park I see for the last time my favourite Italian word on a roadsign:
From now on it's biking along the coast - and that was a wise move; I can see the giant thunderstorms unleashing their rage in the mountains on my left - which I happily biked in the sunshine just yesterday.
Coastal roads are fast and low - and busy. Hectic cities full of tourists line the beach. I see prostitutes waiting in lay-bys. While I fill my tank I can even see one such transaction being instigated; after negotiating the price the young lady grabs her bag and gets into a small Nissan and they drive off. On Friday I wrote that I wouldn't be averse to a brain-dead zombie under certain conditions - but I certainly wouldn't be ready for this kind of entertainment some hetties are obviously prepared to go for...
However, beaches and lots of tourists means that all a biketraveller needs ("Gas, Food and Lodging", as the North Americans so aptly call it) are in ample supply around here. I end the day after 450 km in the town of Giulianova in a beach-side hotel.
This morning analysing the current weather took me more than one hour to accomplish. The reason is the highly unstable air mass that is prevalent in central and southern Europe. Any mountain range will cause thunderstorms again today and during the next days. There are heavy showers and thunderstorms predicted throughout the Apennines and the entire range of the Alps.
And I would like to bike the mountains again, I am not really too keen on the overcrowded, tourist-infested Adriatic coast any more. My conclusion is that this unstable air will come under the influence of a temporary and very weak high pressure ridge from the west, lasting no more than 48 hours. This ridge should start stabilising the air in Northern Italy and the western Alps, beginning this afternoon.
So if my game with the Weather Gods succeeds, then I should be able to turn westwards into mountains again once I have travelled far enough North along the coast to come under the influence of that weak high pressure ridge. I certainly doesn't look very good when I finally set out this morning. Before noon massive Cumulonimbus clouds rise up in the Abruzzo mountains on my left. I stick to the coast, and it is once again slow movement; the first 100 kilometres take 3 hours to bike. I follow the coast until beyond Rimini, where I finally head back into the mountains towards Florence - and my weather game works; I can see the downpours just a few miles south of my location, but finally the thick storm clouds disappear entirely in my rear mirrors and ahead is blue sky again:
As soon as I reach the mountains I have the road to myself again and biking once again is sheer bliss. I end the day after 330 km near Santa Sofia in the Casentini forest - what a difference this is to the hectic coastal region.
Yesterday morning it was analysing the weather that kept me busy for an hour, today it is the Guardia di Finanza. The place I stayed last night is a small, family run hotel. The grandmother did the (excellent) cooking, the son runs the place and the grandson deals with foreign language guests. And they are very keen on running their hotel strictly by the letter of the law, which also means to pass the details of all guests on to the financial police on their website. The guy, named Giovanni, tries his best to comply with all those silly questions, but in the end he has to give up and call another, more experienced receptionist in a place nearby. Out goes the place of birth. "Leave the city of residence blank" is some more advice Giovanni receives, "just write Great Britain." I see, that's how it works... "What, he lives in Switzerland? No, you never get that entered without error, just write Londra". Londra is Italian for London. Giovanni is a good pupil and what he finally submits would probably fit half the population of the United Kingdom, but alas, the Guardia di Finanza is happy, Giovanni has learned a lot and and I can get out of here.
Today is a bank holiday in Italy (Festa della Repubblica), so there are lots of motorbikes and no trucks on the roads. This is the kind of roads I am travelling on all day again:
I give it all I have, but more than 350 kilometres in 8 hours are impossible on this kind of roads. Potholes, gravel stretches and the generally awful condition of these "Strada Provinciale" means that 40 kilometres in one hour is hard work to achieve. I end the day at Varano de' Melegari, still 100 km short of the northern end of the Apennine.
Well, at least the hotel restaurant features those red circles that I like so much and which usually mean a fine end to a great biking day:
The end of the mountains soon comes into sight this morning when I continue my way north:
The dreaded Lombardy however is surprisingly easy to navigate on my route via Cremona. Soon the Alps appear on the hazy horizon and with them those thunderstorms. However, I am lucky and manage to traverse them via the Splügen Pass without getting wet:
Ever since I biked through the Rocky Mountains on empty roads and elevations well over 4000 metres the Alps don't really impress me all that much any more - too crowded and overrated. But as it is a Wednesday well before the main season, the roads are not overly busy and by 5 pm I am back home. 10000 kilometres in under four weeks have managed to even satisfy my appetite for motorbiking for now...
As usual I have added an appendix with the entire tracklog and all waypoints.
Below is the usual map with my GPS tracklog.