I'd sent her a few jokes to cheer her up a few days earlier, but she didn't get them because we can't get the Internet at home in Mount Franklin, country Victoria:
Are you recovering?
I have a joke for you to cheer you up, just in case you need cheering up, but hopefully you are already cheery:
What did Santa Claus’s wife say during a thunderstorm?
Come and look at the rain, dear.
And then this one:
I was going to add another joke there but somehow accidentally pressed send. So here's the next joke, which one of my friends posted on facebook, I thought it was really funny:
A horse walks into a bar. The bartender asks "why the long face?" The horse does not respond because it is a horse. It can neither speak, nor understand English. It is confused by its surroundings and gallops out of the bar, knocking over a few tables.
Today Silkom sent me this message, on Facebook because she can use it on her phone for free, but she can't use email on her phone. At least that's what she tells me.
Ned!
Are you okay?? 30 people in Europe have died because of cold temperatures. Reply to me and tell me of your good health, son!
Well, that was the first I'd heard of that, other than Mum's email from yesterday warning of a cold spell in Europe. Rather ominous news I suppose, but I can't say it worried me. It probably excited me more than anything, because of not knowing what was going to happen and its promise to potentially provide a cool challenge (pun intended).
On this Sunday in Viareggio I found a road alongside the beach which was just like Beach Road in Melbourne on a Sunday - lots of road cyclists dressed in lycra riding expensive road bikes, concerned about how they look but unconcerned about taking up the whole lane or following any of the road rules. They were mostly riding along in small groups, some riding individually and a few large groups as well. This was the first real sign of a cycling culture that I'd come across while riding through Italy. And having not done any bunch riding since I was in Melbourne, I was keen to tack onto the back of one of the groups. So after a bunch over-took me, I went flat knacker to catch up to them. It was difficult getting up to the sorts of speeds they were traveling at on my Surly Long Haul Trucker Touring bike (called Florey), loaded up with my four panniers, and with plenty of flex in the ChroMoly steel frame, the cranks and the drive-train. However, after having maintained a decent level of fitness after being on the road for the previous two months, I was able to catch up to them and sit in the slip-stream at the back of the bunch. I say "sit", as though I could just cruise along there without much effort, but in reality I had to work pretty hard just to stay in contact. We would have only been moving at 35 km/h which would have been very easy on my road bike, but not on Florey. Also I was wary of getting too close in with the bunch because I suspected they might not appreciate it. I didn't know their level of snobbishness; road cyclists can often be quite snobby, you see. I could have been spoiling their all-important image - I wasn't on a road bike, I wasn't wearing any lycra and I had panniers. But I hooked on nonetheless, and the guy at the back, when he noticed I was keeping up, gave me the thumbs up so I assumed they didn't mind. They seemed to find me quite an amusement, and a few passed on some words of encouragement, so I felt welcome enough to ride with them. I told them I was from Australia, which Europeans always seem to love.
Coming up to the first set of traffic lights with the bunch, the lights turned orange, and then red, so naturally I started breaking. Interestingly though, the whole bunch cruised right on through the red light, without hesitation - apparently this was normal behaviour, and indeed it seemed it was expected by everyone in the bunch that they just rode on through the red light. Not wanting to be dropped, of course, I had to put in an effort and speed up to catch them again.
I guess I'd expected everyone to stop at the red lights. When riding in a bunch along Beach Road in Melbourne, everyone would stop at all the red lights, so I was used to doing that. On my own and when in a hurry, that would often be a different story if there was no traffic and no Johnny Hoppers in sight. And here in Italy, I got the feeling that it was okay to go through the red lights too, because everyone else was doing it. I'm not a big subscriber to following rules strictly anyway. I more see them as guidelines. So of course I was happy to follow the other cyclists through the red lights here. And they did the same for all the red lights along this stretch of road, only slowing or veering if there were cars turning in.
It was enjoyable riding in a group again, and getting the heart rate right up when I'm normally just cruising. The end of this cycling boulevard seemed to come at about the 20 km mark, where most of the cyclists turned around to go back, a few continued straight, and a few of them turned right.
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| My route along the Via delle Pinete, a popular cycling road on a Sunday morning in Italy. |
I didn't really know where I was going, so I took a punt and turned right. As we continued riding up this road, one of the guys was trying to speak to me in English after earlier learning that I didn't understand Italian. From what I could gather, he was impressed that I could keep up with them on my touring bike. His English wasn't great, but we could still have somewhat of a conversation. He asked where I was going, and I told him I was trying to get to Genova that day. At this point, we pulled over and stopped riding, along with another bloke who must have been his mate - apparently I was going in the wrong direction. So we discussed the best route for me to take. He reckoned there were two potential routes, but the one closer to the coast was the best one for me, reason being I think because it would be much less hilly, and it would be too cold for the mountainous route at this time of year. So he gave me some directions, with the help of my iPhone map, and reckoned it would be a good ride and eventually, after thanking them kindly for their help, I was on my way again.
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| Looking towards the mountains from Via Litoranea, just past Fiumaretta di Ameglia. |
I stopped in a town called La Spezia, in a little park, and made myself some tomato and mozzarella cheese rolls, which I enjoyed - well, kind of - in the light drizzle while listening to a Dr Karl podcast.
Back on the road after lunch, the road wasted no time in turning uphill, and indeed the terrain from here onwards became quite lumpy, as you can see from the profile elevation below. I had no idea of which roads I should be taking, I just knew which direction I wanted to be heading - Genova. Just heading out of La Spezia, I was faced with a fork in the road: left or right?
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| Two potential routes to Genova - left or right? |
I consulted the map for guidance, and decided to go right, because it looked easier to navigate and much less windy then the left-hand route. The road climbed for a kilometre or so and then, to my surprise, turned into a tunnel.
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| About to enter a long road tunnel through the hill, on the Variante Aurelia Bis, near Sarbia, La Spezia, Italy. |
Road tunnels seem quite common in Europe; they tunnel through mountains left, right and centre. Generally they're for the major roads and autostrade, and generally cyclists aren't allowed to ride through them either. I doubted I was allowed to ride through this one, but I didn't want to ride all the way back down to the fork in the road, and I figured I could just plead ignorance if I got caught. Also there wasn't too much traffic and hence didn't seem dangerous, so in I went. I had no idea how long the tunnel went for, and it seemed to be going on for a long time, and climbing steadily.
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| Inside the road tunnel on Variante Aurelia Bis. |
I was relieved to see the light at the end of the tunnel after a full 2 km's!
The climb kept going; it was a significant lump too, reaching an altitude of 220 metres. The next major lump started a further 15 kilometres on, closely followed by a much larger lump, called Passo del Bracco. By the time I got to this one, I'd been on the road for 83 kilometres and it was properly dark. Having not looked at the route ahead, the terrain was much hillier than I'd expected. And this Passo del Bracco just kept going up and up, it seemed to take forever, and all the while, the rain was setting in and I was slowly getting wetter and wetter. As I climbed, I began to see chunks of snow on the sides of the road, and these chunks became more frequent and widespread the further I climbed.
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| Climbing Passo del Bracco, with snow on the side of the road of the Località Baracchino, Italy. |
Finally I got to the top and the road turned downhill again, and I was able to cruise down at speeds of over 40 km/h, with plenty of illumination from my dynamo-powered headlight. I couldn't go too quickly because the road was wet and windy.
Just after I got to the bottom of the descent, I had my first crash of the trip. I was coming into an intersection and there was a bit of a curve to the right.
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| Aerial view of my crash point (centre of image), in Sestri Levante, Italy. |
I felt pressured by the cars behind me to keep up speed and get across the intersection.
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| The offending intersection in daylight (note that my crash ocurred at night time), in Sestri Levante. |
However as I was veering slightly to the right, the front tyre hit a steel grate on the road and slipped out from underneath me, and I went down like a sack of potatoes.
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| The offending wet steel grate which caused my crash, in Sestri Levante, Italy. |
I slid across the road for several metres, while one of my panniers detached and slid a further ten odd metres ahead of me. I quickly picked myself, the bike and the stray pannier up and relocated onto the footpath to inspect the damage. A few passers-by had seen me crash, but no-one even stopped to ask if I was okay, which I thought was rather inconsiderate. Fortunately I was okay; the only injury I sustained was a sore thumb which I must have bent backwards on the handlebars. The bike too seemed fine, even the pannier that had detached was intact and I was able to clip it back on no problems, such is the quality of the Ortlieb panniers!
Undeterred, I continued on. The road mostly hugged the coast now, and was mostly built up all the way along it. Occasionally it would detour away from the coast in order to cross some steep hills that got in the way - not insignificant at 100 - 200 metres in elevation.
It was getting on, and I was looking forward to eating another delicious pizza. I got to a town called Rapallo and took a bit of a wander on to find a restaurant. There were plenty of choices as usual, but I settled on one. It was quite busy - a sign of a good restaurant I think. The group of people beside me were celebrating someone's birthday and were being rather boisterous. It didn't worry me though; I just enjoyed the shelter and warmth while eating my delicious Italian pizza. Yum!
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| Table celebrating a birthday party, at a restaurant in Rapallo, Italy. |
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| The usual capricciosa, probably my favourite, at a restaurant in Rapallo, Italy. |
I was tempted to order a second pizza; the first was delicious and one pizza isn't quite enough. But I decided I'd better keep going, it was getting late as it was, 10:30 pm at that point.
Upon leaving the restaurant, the road immediately turned up hill and climbed to 261 metres, and the legs were getting pretty tired at this stage. It was a pretty good view along the way though, at night with all the lights.
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| A night-time view overlooking some coastal towns and the ocean, from the Via Aurelia in San Lorenzo della Costa, Italy. |
I think it would have been even more impressive in the day time. Which made me think, I should probably be waking up earlier and making more use of the daylight, rather than doing half my cycling at night time. It was 11 pm at that point after-all. Hmm. I guess I'm a strong night-time person.
I continued on as there were clearly no suitable campsites on the hilly terrain I was traversing, although I was certainly keeping an eye out.
I rolled into Genova at about 12:30 pm, keeping my eyes peeled for a campsite, but a campsite was not forthcoming. I didn't like the feel of Genova much - probably mostly to do with the horrible weather though - it was raining, terribly windy and as cold as a fridge at about 4 degrees. Brrr!
Also, Genova was a bastard to ride though, and I'd only spotted about three patches of grass in the last 50 kilometres, and that's including private lawns...and public parks. Well I hadn't actually seen any public parks, that was the problem. I just thought I'd slip in a reference to an Angus & Julia Stone song there.
I kept riding past Genova alongside the coast and eventually, to my relief, found a little muddy patch of grass beside a playground - it would have to do! It was 2:30 am and I was too tired to ride any further, so I set up the tent, took off my soaking wet clothes, crawled into my warm dry sleeping bag and ate a few left-over sandwiches and some choc-chip biscuits before joining the land of nod at about 3:30 am.
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| My route for the day, Viareggio to Genova. |
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| An overview of my route for the day, Viareggio to Genova, Italy. |
Ride Stats:
Distance: 186.57 km
Average: 17.5 km/h
Maximum: 53.4 km/h
Time: 10:36:41
Total Ascent: 1752 m
Total Descent: 1802 m
