September 30, 2024
The blind leading the blind on a midnight ride
Rome to Scalea to Mormonna
Cherie and I caught the train from Perugia to Rome yesterday after the 3 day celebration that was Ellie and Harry’s belated wedding in the Umbrian hills.
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Despite checking our train ticket several times we managed to miss our direct train to Rome and instead caught a regional train around Lake Trasimeno before jumping on another to get us to Rome Termini. It was all my fault although in my defence it’s outrageous than the 11.20 train departed at 11.20. This is Italy, no?
After meeting Rob mid afternoon at our hotel it was time for one of the absolute highlights of any bike trip; watching Dennis trying to assemble a bike. Cherie had already settled into a courtyard armchair with a G and T waiting for the shit-show to begin. Again I didn’t disappoint. The first half hour was wasted trying to fit Rob’s front wheel onto my bike. Having worked out that issue the rest went smoothly enough. I took Cherie’s giggling as encouragement and managed to get all the bits and bobs onto my bike without any further mishaps. As the mossies descended I gave Cherie the confident glance of a master craftsmen at work and gave the front wheel a gentle spin. It had a horrendous wobble that no amount of swearing in Italian would fix. This needed a bike shop and it’s a Sunday so nothing was open. Meanwhile Rob’s bike goes together seamlessly apart from a pesky front axle that refuses to cooperate until it does. Cherie gives Rob a nine and Dennis a three which I’m pretty happy with, having previously scored a 1 in a hotel car park in Bath and a 0.5 in Ho Chi Minh in a memorable near marriage ending debacle.
With six o’clock approaching it’s time for a beer, dinner and a plan B. With a 9.30am train booked tomorrow there’s no time to find a bike shop so either we stay longer in Rome or catch the intended train and hope the bike shop in Scalia can solve my problem. We decide on the latter option as the bike shop’s reviews look impressive and they do open on a Monday.
Monday dawns as a bluebird day in Rome. After packing all my gear last night after carb loading over dinner I had a restless nights sleep. I was contemplating all things that could go wrong, like having to push my bike for 500 kilometres or finding the only bike shop in Scalia closed. Hopefully we’ll be okay. After a generous breakfast on the rooftop terrace of the hotel we wheeled our bikes the 500 metres to Termini Station, buy a few provisions and jump on the inter-city express for a 41/2 hour trip to Scalea.
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I called the bike shop from the train but the proprietor doesn’t speak a word of English. Luckily a young guy boards the train with a bike in tow and he offers to call on my behalf. Turns out Lucio has just come back from the world championships racing for an Italian amateur team and is visiting his parents in Naples. I suspect he’s a tad quicker than both Rob and I.
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We landed in Scalea around 2.30 after a 41/2 hour train ride taking in the gulf of Naples with some spectacular vistas of the imposing coastline. The bike shop was closed for the afternoon siesta and didn’t reopen until exactly 4.30. The proprietor was inside for at least 20 minutes beforehand, but just like the Italian train system, he waited for the town clock to strike half past before he pulled the shutters up.
He put my bike up on the stand and muttered “parte specializzata della bici” and shook his head. Rather than hover over him I waited outside taking the odd glance in to see what was happening. Despite about 6 of his mates turning up for a chin wag, he managed to fashion a replacement part out of a rusty pipe which did the job perfectly.
With no more wobble I loaded up the bike and we headed off . It was now 5.45 bur we were keen to get cracking in the cool of the afternoon. Mormanno was a mere 40ks away which was the good news. The bad news was it was high in the mountains with 1450 metres of climbing in front of us.
I had my my navigation device all set up so our ride would be seemless and we’d reach Mormanno in 31/2 hours. The first 5 ks went smoothly but somehow the yellow line I was assiduously following took us back to the coastline and way of course. Rob rolled his eyes and took over navigational duties. It was another 10 ks before we were back on track, but it was only a marginal win as we soon headed off on the wrong road and ended up on the road we were trying to avoid. ‘Slightly shorter but much steeper’ the guide said, ‘avoid if possible’.
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It was now dark, but perfect riding conditions. It was still and cool, with no traffic so we attacked the hill with gusto determined to get to Mormanno and a comfy bed for the night. I had messaged the host to say we’d be late but had no response. As the gradient steepened we did more pushing than riding and eventually made Mormanno at a quarter past midnight. My latest ever finish!
Riding at night on quiet roads is much safer than it seems. You see headlights from miles away and it’s invariably still and peaceful.
Mormanno past midnight on a Monday was as dead as a dodo. We rolled downhill through the town and didn’t see a soul. Just as we were resigned to pitching a tent somewhere 2 blokes came into view and one of them spoke English. I asked Luigi if there was any chance of a hotel being open at this hour. A quick ‘no’ was followed by ‘but my mother runs a bnb so you could stay there.’ We followed him up the road to our place thanking our lucky stars. I really didn’t fancy pitching a tent in 10 degree temperatures after today’s ride.
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A soothing shower, a belated dinner of salami and cheese and we were in by bed by 1am. And when I say bed I mean singular. Rob was so knackered we didn’t even get a chance to rock scissors paper off for the preferred right side. He just collapsed diagonally and fell straight to sleep much like he used to do at 6am exercise classes when we finished with mat work and stretches. I gently moved him to one side and crawled into bed. It was a long and tough day.
Today's ride: 60 km (37 miles)
Total: 60 km (37 miles)
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