From Italy into France

The ferry from Olbia took me overnight to Genova, it is a cow of a place to get out of on a bicycle. The last time I was here I ended up on the motorway and had quite a job to get to the nearest exit. This time I did not expect any problems with my new Garmin 810 GPS specially made for cyclists. It is programmed to find the shortest route, avoid main roads and motorways.

It takes me right through the centre, at 8.30 am on a Monday morning! Heavy traffic lots of traffic lights and not easy to follow the instruction in these circumstances. The distance to Savona, where I had planned to sail to, is 46 km down the coast to the West.  After getting through the centre I am steadily climbing up a large hill, I notice looking back that I am leaving the coast. I stop and check the distance to destination and it says 150 km!

I turn it off and find my way back into town and if I keep the sea on my left I should eventually get to Savona. After I  strand at the end of many dead end streets, I move one block inland but discover that all roads lead to the motorway. So in desperation and the fact that I am well advanced in a westerly direction I turn the GPS back on and set it to take me to Savona. Off we go again criss crossing street after street until I recogniseI am  on the same route as the first time! I have fruitlessly biked for 2.5 hours and got nowhere. I turn back into the city and weigh up the my options. Maybe go north up the Po valley and over the st. Bernard pass into France, but that is a much longer route.

The answer is in front of my face, I am staring at a signpost to the railway station, which is just across the square I am standing on. So I join the queue after checking the departure times for trains to Savona. It shows trains at regular intervals on which one can take a bike.  When my turn comes I politely say Bon jour to a grumpy man behind the glass. I ask for a ticket to Savona with a bicycle, he shouts something waiving his arms, no bicycle, I try to say ..but on the list, but he kept shouting, no bicycle! I stare at him in disbelieve, when a lady from the queue behind taps me on the shoulder and says another window, pointing at one two places to the right. It is free and I ask the lady at that window the same question, she smiles and asks me when I want to go and the bike is free! I still do not know why or how it works, but an hour later I sit on the train on my way to Savona. I get there mid afternoon, so find a B&B and get out of the hottest part of the day.

On Monday 5 August I leave Savona at 7.30 am (it is already 25*C ) climbing steady uphill. It is a coal mining area with bucket lift installations going up into the hills. It is tough going and I cannot get out of low gear for the first 2 hours. I am nearly out of water when I spot a small alimentary, (grocery) they are hard to spot as they often look like an ordinary house, no window or advertising. It is my lucky day 3 litres of water, 4 bananas and some pre-packed quassons. Bananas are hard to come by in this part of the world, and if there are any they are black and well past their use by date.

I get to the top of the hill to find another village, the GPS takes me right into the heart of it again. Up and down the narrow cobbled streets, in an effort to shortcut a few hundred meters. The GPS looks for the shortest route but has no regard for the contour or suitability of the terrain. I have to change the setting to "fastest" rather than "shortest"and see if that improves things.

After descending and riding a reasonable flat valley road I ride through a concentration of heavy industry and mining, sharing the road with large coal trucks. Then the climbing starts again and  I get to Ceva at 1.30 pm and call it a day, the temperatures have again risen in to the high thirties.

I book into a very new but virtually empty hotel for 50 euro including breakfast. It took me 6 hours including stops to ride 68 km climbing another 1320 m.

Worth mentioning is the dinner that evening, walking into the restaurant of the hotel, there were about 25 people, all men. One guest like me the others are workers of some project who are housed somewhere else but eat in the hotel. The owner?/waiter welcomes me in from the other side of the room and points to the table he wants me to sit. He asks me if I am the biker and on my nodding announces this to the whole room. He rattles off the choices of dishes and when decided he pushes one of the swing doors into the kitchen open and shouts the order into it. I must say, compared to this man, John Cleese is an amateur. This procedure happens with everyone present and if the person he is shouting at (from afar) is not paying attention, he thumbs the table gesturing to wake him up. He makes comments to which many laugh, unfortunately beyond my comprehension, and occasionally burst into song. He rushes in and out of the kitchen and I wonder if he is the only one in there, but it is physically impossible for him to prepare or dish up in the time available.  He speaks a couple of words of English and every time he serves a dish to my table he says:"very good" and shakes my hand. I must say after a large dinner and a half litre carafe of red wine, it is hilarious.

He is the host again for breakfast, just as loud but concerned, I must eat "for energy"he shouts. It is the first time there is muesli and cornflakes (somewhat stale looking in jars) but no milk or bowls to put it in. Here I discover that there is only one other guest in the hotel.

I leave Civa smiling but soon sweating again as the firsts 1.5 hours is straight uphill again.

However the day is cooler in the low thirties and I make good progress. After reaching Mondovi the road descends into a huge valley and I am enjoying the downhill and the fact not having to ride in the lowest gear. I reach Cuneo a lovely old city with a beautiful Main Street lined with trees and impressive old buildings. I stop for a pizza and as it is not so hot I decide to carry on up the valley to Vinadio, with the big mountains looming up ahead. It is very hazy and the visibility cannot be more than 10 or 15 km. I book into the Piccolo Hotel which is in a restored old building and  I have a huge comfortable room to rest my weary legs after more than 5 hours biking,  100 km and climbing another 850m.

Wednesday 7 August, I leave Vinadio at 8.30 with a fresh supply of water and food to tackle the real mountains. The road rises gently for a while and takes me to the border with France at the col de Madelene at just over 2000m in altitude after 30km climbing. There are a lot of big trucks on the road and with the narrow road and many hairpin bends it takes a good driver to negotiate it safely.

The descent into France towards Barcelonette is the well earned reward, I turn right to St Paul and soon I am climbing again to the col de Vars at 2109m altitude and am happy to reach it amongst many other cyclist riding the famous cols on their holidays (without baggage ) lots of motorbikes too, who usually pass in groups fast and noisy. At least when they pass I cannot hear my own heavy breathing !

It is quite windy on top and I can hear the distant rumble of thunder. I put my jacket on for the first time this trip and descend to Guillestre for the final 20 km of the day. The first half is smooth and fast, but then the heavens open and I ride into the thunderstorm with no where to hide. The road turns into a river and I have to slow down to a crawl, taking great care in the bends. I arrive in Guillestre soaked but in one piece and find a hotel where I book in for 2 nights for a rest day tomorrow. I rode 82 km in 5.5 hours climbing 1953m and descending 1743m. Another great day.

Thursday 8 August a rest day and it is raining! Janey'son Brad who travels the world on a super yacht is in the area and we will meet up today for lunch and a beer or two.

As I said before one has to be flexible !