Two to Tango

Verona  -  Quistello      77.8 kms   155’ ascent

Once we had retrieved our bikes and trailers from the depths of the garage and explained our route and the vagaries of our trailers to an interested hotel employee, we were off and away with our newly acquired maps. Getting out of the city was infinitely easier than getting in. Despite there being no route signs, we were in a position to take to the roads and know where we were going (well nearly). Mr. Master Navigator played a stormer and we followed a combination of bike route and road with some success. (Each day we have been helicopter spotted and it has been our way of assuming that HTV is following our progress!) Today the helicopter took off within a few metres of our path so Alan waved enthusiastically and the pilot returned the gesture much like the train driver of two days ago who tooted in response to a similar wave. We just need a canal barge to complete the picture.

We have, in general, been impressed by the drivers in Italy.  We had expected to receive a blatant disregard for cyclist, instead of which, we have been treated with generosity. Only one incident has marred this record. A large blue truck saw Alan a little late in the day and left half the rubber off his back tyres on the road ,but he did avoid wiping out the Navigator.

Quistello is a small village and it was here that we decided to call it a day. The landlady spoke no English and so it was time to resort to all those gestures. We got a room and, having washed off the day’s smells, we went in search of sustenance. Our landlady, with great excitement, led us into a garden, cool with trees and plants - and a stage with a DJ. We winced, thinking that we were to be subjected to a karaoke night but no, by nine o’clock the place was full and the dancers took to the floor. Quickstep, foxtrot, cha cha cha, Vienese waltz, line dancing and the tango were all part of the evening’s fun for the clients. We remained firmly in our seats but thoroughly enjoyed watching the local townsfolk, of all ages, tripping the light fantastic. Fabulous end to the day.

On to Juliette's Balcony

Rivalta  -  Verona     48kms        656’ascent

We left Rivalta following very clear bicycle route signs. In a very short time, there appeared ahead of us, a very large rock face. At its base was an illustration showing the cross section of the route which (yup) went right up to the top, up slopes of 10%. And we thought we were finished with hills! However, this one proved to be worth the effort of push and ride as the views on the way up were spectacular. At the point where you are out of breath and boiling hot, staring down at an almost flat road going in your direction, can be just a tad frustrating. In a calmer and cooler moment, the magnificence can be appreciated. The descent required a good deal of concentration with bikes coming in the opposite direction and the speedy guys trying to overtake these old folk with their flippin’ trailers.

The signs continued and we followed then diligently, as we still had no maps. We rode alongside a canal and over bridges until, on reaching a road, we ran out of any directional help. We stood for some time hoping the GPS would come up with an answer or another angel would appear. Neither event happened, so we vaguely followed the sun in the hope that we would find clear direction to Verona. On our wanderings we passed a bike shop. I needed new glasses and we thought they might, just might have a map. The glasses purchase was easy and although they had no maps, the very nice lady did give us directions which did take us right into the heart of Verona. Not quite what we had planned!

It had been quite a stressful few hours and Verona presented itself in all its glory. A quick visit to the information centre to find a place to stay, a short ride to the hotel, a shower and we were out revelling with the rest of the tourists. Our major aim was to find MAPS and did we find maps? Oh, yes. That done, we strolled around with our heads up, as at ground level everything was either a designer shop or a restaurant and all the wonderful architecture was above. Having neither the room nor the financial resources for designer wear, we enjoyed a meal in a small, but perfectly formed café, while Alan admired the elegance of the Veronese women.

The grand finale was a marvellous display of nature in the form of a massive thunderstorm which only added to the splendour of this city. (As long as you weren’t wearing your latest designer shoes!)

Nice Young Men

Chiusa  -  Trento   101.8kms      396’ ascent

Trento – Rivalta      63.2kms       232’ ascent

I’ve put these two days together because of their similarity in all but distance. Having profoundly rubbished the Italian cycle route, I now find I must eat humble pie. Having left the hostel yesterday in good time, and having decided that we would venture no more onto wiggly routes, we/Alan chanced upon a cycle way which ran between the river and the road. We conjectured that as long as we crossed neither, the route could not take off into the mountains. The logic worked so well, that for two days we have been following an impeccable track! It has taken us along gorges, through tunnels, and above rivers but its most favourable feature is that, for the most part, it has been downhill, even if only slightly.

I had never thought of Italy as a great grower of apples, but yesterday we spent much of our journey passing by apple orchards – apples of all shapes and colours and not quite ripe for picking. Today has been the turn of the vine (but we have thought of Italy as a wine producer). We have actually cycled through the vineyards lush with grapes, also not quite ready for harvesting, but smelling gorgeous.

We are still on our continuing search for maps and this morning we thought to venture into Trento and try to find some. Instead, we found another guiding angel – this one male. He had originally signalled to Alan that he should be on the cycle track so, being a good citizen , Alan did as he was bid. This is turn led to a conversation between the two during which the need for maps was mentioned. The magic words, “Follow me” were spoken and with little fuss we found ourselves outside a bookshop; that they had nothing useful was beside the point. We bought a map anyway which at least gives us an overview of the whole of Italy so scale is not helpful for locating small roads etc. Yet another nice young man.

As is often the case in the mountains, they attract their unique weather systems. These are no exception. For two days now, starting around midday, the old nostril wind has palled up with his brother, the mistral. So we now have a ‘minestrone ‘wind of some force, certainly gusts of eight. The temperatures have also risen significantly so that a cold shower of rain is a positive pleasure. Hopefully smelling a little sweeter now, we shall seek sustenance and gird our loins for another day on the tracks.

Where's My Trailer

Gries – Chiusa     68 kms              1390’ ascent

Well, what a day! The good news is that we have made it into Italy although not as far as we would have wished for a number of reasons which I shall outline. We left Gries in good time minus the rain of the day before but with a flippin’ nostril wind, which didn’t help my climbing ability one little bit. Nevertheless a few kilometres later and around a 600’ foot ascent, we crossed the border. Not an exciting or pretty border town and we hastened through it.

We had been reliably informed, or so we thought, that we would find an excellent cycle route to take us down the other side of the Brenner. We did find it and for ten kilometres or so it lived up to expectations. Then it set off with a mind of it’s own which seemed to focus on crossing contours, and which bore little resemblance to the direction in which we wanted to go  -  down! However, we were prisoners of the route as there was no way onto any useful road. Admittedly, the ups were not long, but on several occasions they were 17 %. Now, I think I am quite a dogged soul, but I could barely PUSH my load up these inclines and old Herman got heavier with each hill.  Then Sherman really stuffed up. It broke away from Alan’s bike and just lay in the road (fortunately a very quiet road traffic wise BUT right outside a restaurant). It caused some amusement amongst the clientele but not a lot for us. It transpired that the link had snapped entirely so leaving no method of attaching bike and trailer. BUT, Mr. Organised had a spare if only we could remember where it was packed. Thankfully our audience lost interest when they could see the problem being so astutely solved and in less than half an hour, we were on our way again. Two hills later Alan asked, ”Where is your helmet, Mary?” Sh..t, back at the breakdown spot. Minus trailer, I went back and found it and restored faith in hill climbing ability by managing 15% without the trailer. (I have to own up at this point that my helmet was not the only this to go missing. I dropped my sunglasses while having a wee, but they will still be there – too far before I realised they were gone! That’s the second pair!)

After two hours of rubbish route, during which we had climbed another 700’ when we should have been going downhill, there appeared an access onto the road. Traffic, yes, but gentle downhill along the valley. Quite tired now and a little disappointed that we managed so few kilometres but heigh- ho tomorrow is another day. Probably won’t be quite as exciting, I hope.

Crossing the Alps (Part I)

Schwatz – Gries (still just in Austria!)     64.7 kms      1250’ ascent.

Yesterday’s cycle track proved to be just as effective this morning as it was the day before. It is true that it took us all around Innsbruck and then into the centre but with never a moments anxiety about being lost; that we covered some 30 plus kms when half that might have been sufficient was small price to pay. Anyway, the centre of Innsbruck is very attractive and it was a long time since we had visited the city. Armed with a map of the town, courtesy of the Tourist Information, (well, not exactly courtesy, as I had to cough up the princely sum of 1 Euro for a very small piece of paper) we headed for the bottom of the Brenner Pass. We shared the first few kilometres with the traffic accessing the motorway but by the time we had passed the Olympic ski jump the volume of traffic had reduced considerably. (From the top of the ski jump you look directly into a grave yard miles below! We didn’t view it this time but from memory it looks absolutely terrifying!).

The hill climbing up the Brenner was manageable and, by the time we stopped for lunch, confidence levels had increased. Looking up we could see the motorway which at that point was crossing a very long and high viaduct. Looking again with incredulity, we could see the brave or stupid, depending on your point of view, bungie jumping in an obviously well organised operation! Accompanied, as it was by howls and shrieks, it made for a very entertaining lunch break.

We had hoped to reach Italy this evening but with all the deviations around Innsbruck, time ran out; very fortuitously as it happened in view of the torrential rain which began falling as we put our bikes in the garage before hurrying up to our room for the night. A few more kilometres and a few more hundred feet and we will make the top of the pass and Italy tomorrow torrential rain or not!

And Down the Other side

Halfway or a bit more up a f…….g mountain  -  Schwatz (nr. Innsbruck)  71.5 kms    749’ascent.

Our emergency accommodation provided for all our needs except that we felt thoroughly unwelcome. We were the only residents and we ate our breakfast under the ever watchful eye of the waiter/ manager and a ceiling camera. Much indigestion followed! This constant observation continued until we had retrieved our bikes and trailers from the garage and started to load up. As the garage door closed, I could hear the Rottweiler growling behind the door. There was a camera here too. Having got used to the Austrian ‘open door’ policy, this behaviour was altogether unnerving. On the positive side, we were dry, rested and fed. We are still speculating about iffy activities going on.

It was with some relief that we hit the road and managed to ride at least until we were out of sight of the guest house! Last night’s storm had passed and left behind a residual drizzle. After a bit less than an hour of riding/walking we reached the summit. Hoorah. The upside of all that climbing was a downhill that seemed go on forever. In view of the wet roads it was unwise (or it was for me) to really let rip, but nonetheless it was great fun to be moving almost as fast as the traffic.

Once we reached the valley floor, the speed decreased but the ride was still gently downhill until we reached the river Inn. I assumed this flowed towards Innsbruck from where we joined it but my geography was all to pot and we were following it upstream. Up/down, it was still a comfortable ride in the sunshine which had gradually re-established itself. As an additional bonus, Alan had located a cycle track which has, so far, been well signposted. We have our fingers crossed that it may remain so, for tomorrow we/ Alan must locate the best route to the base of the Brenner Pass! If all goes well and, barring thunder storms, we could find ourselves in Italy tomorrow. Maybe?!

Halfway Up

Piesendorf  -  halfway up the f……….ing mountain.        53.8 kms    2042’ ascent.

The weatherman said it would rain and thunder maybe! Did we believe him – no. Mmm, just sometimes they get it right. 

It was a morning of glorious sunshine as we left the hostel with some trepidation as to what was to come. However, before all that we had many kilometres of fairly flat countryside surrounded by the high mountains now covered in snow on the summits. It was hot but with a slight breeze; it was thoroughly enjoyable riding, if just a little tainted with the prospect of this huge hill which got huger all the time in my fertile imagination. After a little over 40kilometres, we took advantage of the shade offered by the railway platform to eat lunch and muse over the climb which was now just about to begin. Well nourished and hydrated (it was still very hot) we sallied forth. After two and a half kilometres we passed through Krimmer which appeared to contain nothing except a series of car parks. It transpired that the occupants of the parked vehicles were off visiting some awesome waterfalls. Not for us. We pedalled on. As the road grew quieter, so the slope got steeper. It was now a combination for us of ride/walk as Herman and Sherman took their toll. In surprisingly good spirits, we had completed about half the height when our friends, of the grey cloud variety, began to amass. (All the fault of those weather men!) Thunder cracked and we found ourselves pelted with rain drops the size of marbles. No shelter except trees, and we all know what happens when one shelters under trees – you get wet twice. Ah ha, but we huddled under a karrimat.  Not a great success, as within five minutes we were soaked through to undies. Looming out of the mist was a sign for a café and hostel just 200 metres further on. (That someone is still looking after us). Not the warmest of welcomes for a very wet granny but nonetheless a room was acquired. Just as well, as the storm continued for well over four hours! Yes. We know we are getting soft, but the thought of trying to pitch a tent, assuming there was a spot to pitch it on, and then crawling into wet clothing in the morning, has lost its appeal. So tomorrow we have the rest of the hill to climb. It means we are a bit behind schedule but Alan assures me that when we reach the summit the downhill goes on for miles! We’ll see.

Tourist Office Trumps

Werfen  -  Piesendorf    64.3          959’ ascent.

This was a beautiful day. The weather was glorious and the riding not too demanding. We followed the river for much of the time, as this constituted a significantly more reliable reference point than any of the very haphazard signposts. We were by no means the only couple confused by the green cycle signs, as we watched, with some amusement, many other cyclists who appeared equally as confused as we were. For us, the general consensus was ‘follow your nose’ and hope. This was successful up to a point. However after following green signs which seemed to visit the local farms and not much else, we resorted to the road. Winding around the hillsides maybe great fun if you are out for a day’s ride, but after fifty plus days and more than 4000 kms a more sympathetic route is required. Arriving very hot and sweaty in Piesendorf, the tourist office came up trumps and found us a bike friendly pension, which didn’t mind welcoming two sweaty and smelly cyclists. (Our experience with Tourist offices is that they are excellent at procuring accommodation but anything useful like maps or cycle route information is conspicuously absent.)

During the evening meal, Alan told me, as gently as possible, what was in store for tomorrow. That he had actually pondered over whether to tell me or not shows a remarkable level of concern. I was to expect a very long and steep climb; over 1000metres in five kilometres! I am glad that he told me, I think!?

Into the Big Stuff

Thurgau – Werfen     70kms              1199’ascent (all in the afternoon)

We didn’t get off to the best of starts this morning as the machine in the gasthaus would accept neither of our debit or credit cards. It was not a real problem but one that always results in a level of angst. In retrospect, I have a suspicion that the error was deliberate and intended to ensure that we paid cash and thereby circumnavigated the tax inspector! It did seem to be a ploy as, within less than two hours, both cards were functioning as normal.

Anyway, enough domestics. We set off on quite a cold  morning in vaguely the right direction and chanced upon the signs for the cycle route into Salzburg. These were easy to follow and we set off at some pace – only ‘cos it was downhill. As we reached the outskirts of the city, the route divided and Mr. Master Navigator was called upon for his expertise. Right, as ever, we located the river and then the centre of the city. We still needed maps! Once again the information centre provided nothing but did point out a bookshop, which did have something. While I ran around the busy streets of Salzburg, Alan stood guard over the bikes. It was at least an hour before I returned, during which time he had watched the same horse drawn carriage pass by three times! Such entertainment.

Eventually, maps in hand, we bowled off again along the river bank. We enjoyed our lunch on the banks looking up into the really big mountains. Then, after another ten kilometres or so, our cycle route disappeared. Now Mr. Master Navigator was going to have to earn his keep. Mmmm……. It was a bit up hill and down dale but nonetheless always in the right direction. Still close to the river for a while, we spied a group of youngsters surfing the waves on the river- very skilfully. (See photo)

We now found ourselves on the main road and suddenly we were channelled into a spectacular gorge. No more gentle meadow, this was dark and deep and with tunnels. It was the Austria of the high mountains and castles. Needless to say, it was also accompanied by quite a lot of climbing. Just for once though, the whizzy wind was behind us providing much needed assistance up the hills. This is the Austria we love although it might be a tad tainted after tomorrow’s uphills. Who knows?                     

Then It's a Beautiful Day

Schwanenstadt  -  Thurgau     67.2 kms     695’ ascent

We did decide to take yesterday as a non-riding day. Weather was rubbish and we had peace and quiet to service the bikes and trailers, find some maps and chill for a while. So today started early and we were breakfasting before eight. Not the most exciting of breakfasts but nourishing, unlike the four gentlemen who arrived for their morning wine and beer! We left the town to the loud and almost continual jangling of church bells. Not sure if it was all the same church or a competition between several. Absolutely no chance of a Sunday lay-in.

We set off in intermittent sunshine, along a fairly main road, but it being Sunday, traffic was relatively light. It has to be said, this was not a pretty route, lined as it was, with shopping complexes, the railway line and large factories with chimneys belching forth smoke. Finally, we found our cycle route and for some ten kilometres we followed the signs until they pointed in opposite directions! Scratching our heads and perusing the map, we were approached by a man in a car who rolled down the window to offer assistance. Our ‘We only speak English’ was met with ‘That’s fine. I have worked in Wrexham.’ Not only that, but he put us on the right path. 

A path which led us to a countryside in direct contrast with the one we had so recently been through. In a trice, we were riding alongside an aquamarine lake surrounded by mountains, some with their peaks hidden by the clouds. This was obviously a playground for the rich; boats on the water, another millionaires’ row, Ferraris and Porches abounding. Mind you, they had to queue up behind two bikes with trailers the same as everybody else when the road narrowed, which it did frequently. Sadly much of the actual lakeside was out of bounds as every piece of land was ‘verboten’ to joe public. We did eventually find a spot which was not ‘verboten’ and sat down to enjoy our lunch. For no apparent reason, the water in front of us began to bubble and we fearing, at the very least, a deadly man eating monster, were relieved to watch several divers surface and fall around under the weight of all their clobber.

Having enjoyed one lake, we greedily moved on to the next. Alongside this one had to be the coolest cycle track in Austria, if not Europe as it sported a tunnel just for use by bikes! It was long and lit with little off-shoots to the lakeside. We were well impressed.

Having left behind the water, and with the sun now dominating the sky, we meandered our way through truly Alpine meadow accompanied by the wholesome odour of cow and grass. Tomorrow we must negotiate Salzberg! Another challenge for Mr. Master Navigator.