So we awoke in Riva del Garda at the top of lake Garda halfway between
Venice and Milan and the rain had arrived.
At first it seemed to be stopping, and we set off down the lakeside
with fingers crossed. After 40km, we pulled into a side tunnel to put
our waterproofs on.
And the wind came up and the rain came down all the way to Milan. We
stopped at the services and decided on the shortest route to France.
Then we hit the motorway again. Let me say now that Ancona is not the
only place in Italy that could use a lesson in signposting. And for
what they cost to use, Italian motorways are a rip-off given the road
surface. Eventually I successfully negotiated the Milan/monza/Turin
junction (Italy loves its pasta. Every junction appears inspired by
spaghetti).
Lynn's tires aren't happy in the wet, and the rain was pelting so we
were relying on my non-existent italian and purported sense of
direction. Let's just say it turned out to be something of a scenic
route.
As I followed the signs for monte bianco and Geneva, I kept converting
the kms to miles to make myself feel better - soaked and frozen as I
was by the time we reached the alps.
Then the rain came down and the wind came up. You try cornering a
heavy, loaded bike through a hairpin over potholes in the driving rain
and a contrary cross-gale, OK?
We stopped for espresso because we were both too cold to feel hands or
feet (very heavy in wet boots, which makes riding and walking rather
difficult). The gent behind me in the coffee queue looked at me and
struggled not to laugh, which was very polite, given that neither of
us could shiver for giggling.
And with every lovely dry tunnel up the mountains I told myself "30
more miles to France".
Mont blanc itself is lovely. Expensive but for that you get nearly
12km of heated dry tunnel in which to ride in your own personal steam
cloud as you dry/thaw a little.
France of course, was dry. Viciously corkscrew down 60% gradients, but
dry.
We had planned to peage it to beaune near Dijon but couldn't stand the
cold or wet so stopped just inside the Franco-swiss border at a place
that spoke English, but had no food other than mcdonalds. Luckily my
teeth were chattering too much to chew. (and at least they do coffee
these days).
Sent from my iPhone
No comments:
Post a Comment