After a brief diversion back in Canada, I am once again on my bicycle and riding
through Europe.
The interlude started in Calgary, and the first few days were a bit of a culture
shock. I kept trying to figure out what language to speak before entering a
store, and it was kind of weird to find out that I could simply speak English.
However, soon Zen and I found a comfortable routine, starting the day with
scones and Starbucks coffee, and spending the afternoons strolling along the Bow
River.
I recovered from jetlag in time to attend a good friend's wedding, situated
outdoors in the heart of the Rocky mountains. The ceremony was held on a bridge
overlooking a field, which I believe was a medal podium from the Calgary
Olympics. Thundershowers loomed, and it poured rain right before the ceremony.
But, as luck would have it, the skies dried up just long enough for the wedding.
We were all waiting on the bridge, when the wedding party showed up ... on
mountain bikes! The bride was wearing a traditional although short cut wedding
dress with white pumps, and the groom and best man were wearing a tuxedo top and
cycling shorts.
The reception after the wedding involved lots of socializing and dancing as I
visited with old friends from Edmonton and Ottawa, and made a few new ones. I
paid for it all the next day - not with a hangover, but with whiplash from
dancing too much.
Zen and I stayed in the Rockies for a few more days, enjoying the clean mountain
air, hidden turquoise glacial lakes, walks through lush pine forests, and a
quiet little B&B with skylights looking out over the mountains. We also got
to see a bit of wildlife including a large male elk casually strolling through
downtown Banff, a herd of elk grazing on a golf course, and several bears
indifferently feeding on berries by the side of the road.
From the mountains, it was back home to Edmonton for an action packed 4 days of
visiting family and friends. The time was far too short, and I wasn't able to
visit with everyone I wanted to before having to make the long trip back to
Europe.
My marathon travel day began early Tuesday morning by driving from Edmonton down
to Calgary, catching a flight to Paris (via Toronto), visiting with Rob very
briefly, and then catching a last minute stand-by ticket for a train to Geneva.
I made it to Switzerland on Wednesday evening, just in time to attend a friend's
barbeque. When finally getting to bed at just after midnight, I was completely
exhausted, having been without sleep for about 33 hours.
I spent the next few days adjusting to the local timezone and seeing a little
bit of the area. One highlight was a restaurant that was a real Swiss
experience. It was located on the top of a small mountain, and we hiked the
final half kilometer to get there. There seemed to be locals only as we all
appreciated the great view of the villages in the valley below. There were
almost twenty people in our party, and while we dined on a champagne fondue, I
tried my best to explain in French why I would do something crazy like tour
Europe by bike. The evening was finished with a nice walk back down the mountain
under the light of an almost full moon.
The next day, Patricia and Philippe (the captains from the sailing trip)
transported myself and my bike up into the Alps where we spent a day hiking. The
trail went straight up the mountain and alongside picturesque abandoned Swiss
chalets. I was informed that the trail was actually a former mule track that
used to be an important trade route between Switzerland and Italy. While hiking,
we could hear the ring of the "goatbells" in the distance as the
animals spent their summers grazing in alpine meadows. At one point, a mother
and her two kids decided that the food we had smelled better than grass, and
followed us along looking for handouts. The large horns made us a little wary,
and at one point the mother gave me a butt in the shin to remind me to be
careful.
After a restful night at a little hotel in a village high in the mountains, it
was time to get back on the bike and coast downhill into Italy. It had been over
two months since my last ride, and I was extremely excited to be back on two
wheels, if not a little anxious about the mountain passes I would be crossing.
While riding through the border checkpost, my passport was checked by the
Italian customs agent. He was quite shocked that I was Canadian, and took my
passport around to show to everyone else (while a huge line of cars waited
behind me). I couldn't quite understand the conversation that went on, but as
they looked at me, I could have sworn I heard one of them say "so thats
what they look like".
As I rode away from the checkpost, it was very obvious that I was now in Italy
as the smooth wide road I had been riding on in Switzerland became narrow and
marred with potholes and ruts.
This first visit into Italy was a short one, and three hours and a mountain pass
later, I found myself back in Switzerland. I spent the night in a little town
called Locarno in the Italian speaking part of Switzerland.
The next day, I rode along Lago di Maggiore and back into Italy. The spectacular
Italian lakes district has high forested mountains that drop sharply down to
large lakes. Scattered along the lakeside are beautiful little villages that
seem to crawl right up the sides of the mountains. They have long been the
resort hang-outs of the rich Italians.
As I turned away from the lake, I rode back into Switzerland, then back into
Italy, then back into Switzerland. I was becoming a real expert at those border
crossings.
After one last night in Switzerland, I woke up the next day and crossed the
Italian border for good into the town of Como. This was now my fourth visit to
Italy, so I figured I was becoming a real Italy travel veteran.
Cycling started to take on new dimensions in a land where lanes are painted on
the roads merely for decoration, and traffic lights and one way signs are simply
suggestions. The road signs also left something to be desired, and made it
challenging to navigate. All roads seemed to point to Milan.
At least the people seemed to be friendly. As I would cycle down the roads, the
women would have their hands out the window waving at me. Or so I thought. I
later realized that they were simply drying their nails.
I continued cycling along the lakes and around the mountains when another
challenge presented itself - the Italian tunnels. Tunnels are pretty scary on a
bike, and additional excitement was added with the intermittent lighting. In the
first tunnel I rode through, exactly every second set of lights were out. Was
this an energy saving technique??? It meant that there was enough light to
completely obscure the dark patches, and whatever holes and boulders lurked
within.
As I rode through the tunnel, I thought I heard a jet engine behind me. At the
very least, I figured it must be a huge truck as wide as the tunnel that was
going to squash me like a bug. I pushed hard to try and get through the tunnel
before it caught up with me. It was gaining, so I cycled even harder. Just
before the tunnel exit, a little 50cc scooter putted and wheezed its way past
me, barely going faster than I was.
From the lakes district, I cycled down into the hot and flat plains. The scenery
there was largely forgettable, but the towns of Breschia, Verona, and Padova
made up for it with their grand piazzas. They were perfect for hanging out and
eating gelato ice cream, drinking espressos and admiring the grand renaissance
buildings and crumbling remains of the days of the Romans.
I am now taking in a rest day in Padova where Zen and I will be meeting up. We
will then head to a little resort town north of Venice called Ligniano where we
will be meeting up with Oscar, Silvana, and family for a week of touring the
Venice area.
