A nice ending to the shittiest start

 A three week cycling holiday in Northern Italy is underway.  But, it couldn't have had a worse beginning.

The trip was conceived in 2019, to celebrate mum passing ITAL 301 at Victoria University of Wellington in 2018.  Sarah and I invited her and Pops to join us on a lap of the Alps and Dolomites, them in a car, and us on our bicycles.  By March 2020, we had flights, a rental car, and accommodation for the first half of the trip all booked.  And then came Covid-19, and it all ended up in the scrap heap.  

But, it was never forgotten, and in late 2024, we thought it was nigh time to try again.   We gave the oldies some treat money for Christmas, and were delighted when they locked in a few weeks of experiences between London and Como, including a visit to a world-famous ukelele shop near London, and a Rhein River cruise.  

The world sometimes has a nasty way of fucking with you, and we lost our dear Poppa in early April.  We eventually broached June with mum, and convinced both her and ourselves that coming with Pop alive in our memories was worth a crack.  Flight booking was a bit of an ordeal, but eventually (at about my sixth attempt), I managed to get mum seats on the same planes as Sarah and I.  

I do tend to fret leading up to a trip, but I don't recall ever being as nervous about travel.  It was really hard to anticipate how we'd feel, and I hoped it wouldn't be hard to keep both my companions happy.  In some respects there was little pressure, given the original premise of the trip.  As long as we were in Italy, there would be food, roads, and a chance for mum to speak Italian.

To take the edge off our 6am flight to Auckland, we stayed overnight at the airport.  Not surprisingly, Ma was emotional, and Dad wasn't far from all of our thoughts.  There were a few spooky moments:  we ended up with four coffees simultaneously at our breakfast table in the lounge after an ordering mix-up, and as we taxied at the start of our flight to Taipei, I watched an Air Chathams plane turn off the run-way - our consolation "first overseas" trip was to the Chathams, where the four of us had enjoyed some real quality time.  

One of these was for you, dear Poppa

After a 6-hour layover, we boarded our third and final flight - to Milano.  Once off the plane, Sarah and I enjoyed listening to Ma speak Italian with a young woman who helped her to the rental car desk.  We had a bit of a wait there, during which time I had to upgrade to a larger vehicle - in hindsight, I should have anticipated the need to do this.  Packing all of our luggage into the back was still a challenge, but we made everything fit, and soon were enjoying a stroll around Como.  Our accommodation was booked in Bellagio, and while we'd be too early for check-in, we set off in the hope of getting some lunch there.

The road along the lake was sometimes wide enough to seem reasonable, but we spent much of the time flinching at how narrow it was.  We all felt I was doing well, until giving an oncoming car space resulted in a sickening bang as I slammed into something lurking on the side of the road.  I pulled into a layby to investigate, and while it was nice to see no damage to the car itself, the front right tyre had a nasty gash in it, which most definitely would not buff out.

That the car was out in the sun was the least of our worries, but over the next couple of hours, we did manage to deal with the horrible situation.  Unfortunately, there wasn't a spare wheel in the boot, much to the disgust of the tow truck driver when he arrived.  By the time the truck had left with our vehicle, I'd assembled my bike, and re-packed Sarah's.  My first ride of the trip was not a happy one, and I felt sick to my stomach after what had happened.  Mum's Italian had helped immensely, and I arrived simultaneously with her and Sarah's taxi, which had indeed been large enough to cope with our remaining luggage.

I was a bit worried about the location of our accommodation, especially now without a car.  Sarah and I struck out on foot, and decided to return with some pizza for dinner, and a bottle of Chardonnay for mum.  After that, sleep called - fatigue overcoming guilt and frustration on my part!

Ma slept in, during which time Sarah and I took the edge of the morning with some leftover pizza.  Once mum was up, she taught us a nifty trick to revive some rock-hard bread rolls we'd bought for breakfast (dampen them with water, and then bake in the over for 5 minutes or so - just like we used to back in the 60s before bread came in plastic bags), and these ultimately made a mighty fine receptacle for some mozzarella and prosciutto.  That done, we all struck out on foot for a coffee mission!

Ever the language teacher (Ma taught Latin and German for most of her teaching career), I was given the responsibility to order "tre cappuccini caffe doppio per favore" and this seemed to work a treat - the coffee was considerably gruntier than the ones we'd had the previous day in Como.  After enjoying the hustle-bustle of the cafe, we walked back towards home, during which time Ma struck up conversation with an Italian woman of a similar age and also walking with a stick.  Then she spoke with the proprietor of a minimart that we stumbled upon.  It warmed the cockles of my heart!

Despite rain threatening, and mum reporting that a roadie we'd seen had said something to his mates including "bagnati" (we're going to be bathed), Sarah and I suited up, and as mum locked the door, we told her we'd be back in a couple of hours.  

It didn't take long before thunder was booming in the hills around us, and then the heavens really opened.  Around the same time, a massive sense of relief and contentment came over me, which in some ways was curious, given the torrential downpour, considerable uncertainty about when and how our rental car will be replaced (one suggestion the day prior was that we would need to get ourselves to Bergamo to pick up a replacement), and our consequent inability to do much about planning our next accommodation after our remaining two nights in the current place run out...   Maybe the explanation lay at the top of the climb, La Madonna del Ghisallo, the patron saint of cyclists (per Pope Pius XII in 1948).  

Giving some passing traffic space

Sarah didn't seem overly concerned about the weather, but did object a few times to the fact that her shake-down ride was up a small mountain.  The 2 minute roll down to the main road from our accommodation hadn't been much of a warm up, and she hadn't enquired - and I hadn't offered - details of our route.  

About half way up the 10km climb, the rain abated, and we were treated to some spectacular views over the northern portion of Lago di Como.  

A helipad just behind us - and Lake Como behind it

The road mellowed out for a while, and before long, Il Santuario Madonna del Ghisallo was in sight.

We made a beeline for the building behind it, which had half a dozen bikes parked outside, with riders inside, no doubt cowering from the rain!  We parked our bikes, and despite being soaking wet, we were warmly greeted once inside, and handed small towels.  I guess wet cyclists are not an uncommon entrant to the Ghisallo Cycling Museum!  

Sarah had visited while I was doing the 2018 Tour de France One Day Ahead, so I went through the museum on my own.  The exhibits were a glorious mix of old and new, from wooden boneshakers through to 2024 race bikes!  

A tribute to Pogi's cracking 2024

There were impressive jersey collections hung around the place, and it was no surprise that Simon Yates' maglia rosa wasn't yet on display - he'd only won the Giro the day before (and taken the lead the day before that).  

I finished off with the Eddy Merckx exhibition "in the basement" before joining Sarah in the cafe for an incredible Italian hot chocolate, which was much closer to custard than a typical hot choccy from an NZ watering hole.  

That downed, it was time to don the wet shoes and helmets (cyclists were provided dry crocs to mooch around the museum in - they'd thought of everything!!!!), and venture outside again, but not before a bit of souvenir shopping - a Ghisallo Cycling Museum hat for moi, a fridge magnet for ... our fridge, and a pair of gloves for our dear friend Oli which hopefully he will enjoy wearing after his impending hip replacement.

Outside, it was time for some posing in front of the Bartali e Coppi statue...

... followed by a quick glance inside il santuario.  What an amazing place to visit!

Fortunately, we'd dried off a bit (courtesy of the towels provided in the museum), and warmed up from the inside out (courtesy of hot chocolate), and to make matters even better, the roads were pretty dry and the rain had stopped.  We descended away from Ghisallo (and Bellagio below it), and after a good 15 minutes or so hung a left to begin the return trip to Bellagio.  

After a short climb, we began descending again, and got stunning views over Lake Como again - this time the south-eastern arm.  

The ride along the lake's edge was nice, and an interesting mix of up, down and along, wide enough and crazy narrow.  The final push to the accommodation came soon enough, and we made short work of the climb.

Purveyors of fine cappuccini

Mama heard our knock on the door, and promptly admitted us.  She'd had a good rest, and despite us being away a bit longer than the two hours we'd predicted, was surprised to see us so soon.  

Hopefully the next couple of days go smoothly, and following that, the next couple of weeks.  For now, I'm going to celebrate a lovely day with two of my nearest and dearest, and one that truly encapsulated the purpose of the trip.  Hearing Ma nattering away in Italian to the signore was the highlight, but it was also a real treat to visit one of the most cycle-friendly locations you'll ever find.  Let's hope this sets the tone for the rest of the trip.

My concerns about our location have eased dramatically - it turns out we're close to a decent coffee supply, food, and plenty of people willing to converse in their own language with a talented tourist!  Brava, mama, and grazie mille for being here with us.

Stats:  a sweet little 34km loop, topping out at 660m above sea level.