Day 10: Peschiera del Garda

We woke up where we left off, surrounded by mountains and next to the Trebbia river. 

For the first time since the start: our destination was uncertain. 

The previous evening we had searched in vain for campings in the plains between Cremona and Mantua. There was only one place that looked like a camping but theor website said it was close since 2018 and they did not answer our calls. 

Sergio took this opportunity to (re) make the case for cycling to Verona / Peschiera del Garda directly. A bad idea in most circumstances (the distance was between 150-180km), we decided to not rule it out and try to make good distance in the morning "just in case". 

And so we did. We took advantage of the initial downhill, the subsequent flatness, and, finally we aligned in a closed straight line and took turns being the head. As if we were pro. 

By 10 am we had done 70 km.

We stopped at Cremona were we each ate two coffees and two croissants (sorry, Cornettos) filled with delicious things such as pistachio. Maybe because we had done half the distance already. Maybe it was the excess sugar and coffee. But we decided we could get to Peschiera in the rest of the day and started calling campings next to the Garda lake.

We got a confirmation from a camping not-at-all at Peschiera, but close enough to justify continuing the trip. And so we continue pedaling for hours through farms and more farms. 

The last 20 km were hard. The roads started going up, announcing the beginning of the Alpes. Still, we carried on trying to keep the distance at 30km/h. The heat+humidity started getting excessive as we lost more and more water to sweat.

Among this extreme heat and low water reserves, the sign for the Acquafredda (cold water) town appear as if it were a mirage. There we were delighted to find a public fountain with cold, sparkling water.

During the very last stretch of road, we were forced to abandon highways and take rural roads between very small towns guided by Google, who seems to be very optimistic in our ability to climb very steep hills.

We arrived to Peschiera at 15h15, tired, late, without almost any food left and without having had lunch. As soon as we were given a spot in the camping (we were disappointed they did not appear to care our last name was the same as their town), we made our tents and went to get food to eat near the lake.

Almost at 17h we finally had a well-deserved, very generous prosciutto + grana padano + olive oil sandwiches next to the lake. We also took a dive and met some ducks and dogs.

The camping (and the town) appears to have been taken over by Germans, Dutchs and the Swiss. It seems yesterday when we were surrounded by French and Spanish people and music next to the mediterranean and now we didn't find a single car.

Our goal of reaching Peschiera del Garda was then achieved one day ahead of schedule, amazingly. Even though we spent one more day than planned in France.

Day 9: Overcoming Italy's spine

Up until reaching Genoa, all we had covered in Italy was the Italian Riviera in the Ligurian coast. Blessed by a much-appreciated sea breeze, relatively harmless slopes and unitenrrumpted civilization. But all of that would end once we started inland. Following s fellow cycler's advise we went for Bobbio, an until-then unbeknownst town in the heart of the apenines.

We started as we normally do: 05:00 am, bananas and plenty of cereal bars. After bandaging the wounded soldiers, the hindered crew parted. After a (very) short visit to Genoa (in which we even decided that the main square was not worth stopping for a picture),  we went for the mountains... Non stop climbs were the norm for about 30 kilometres, in which we arrived to over 800m height (informative picture below) Gladly, we found a stop halfway through in which we fueled ourselves with coffee, a banana "hotdog" (don't ask) and a daily-calory-intake cannolo.

The mountain was challenging but we made our progress slowly and surely. Making full use of every gear the bike would offer (credits to Franco for the maintenance job the afternoon prior), we arrived to the summit. From there, it was -almost- all downhill (quite literally), reaching speeds or over 60km/h on some stretches. Views were breathtaking throughout, making the effort very well worth it. Eventually, we managed to found ourselves on "the other side" of the mountain chain, successfully crossing the northern section of the apenines or "alpenines". According to our (un)reliable route source, Google, "no meaningful slopes" expect us.

But it was not without drama that the day would reach its conclusion. Shortly before reaching Bobbio, the journey's strain started taking its toll on the bikes as 2 of Sergio's spokes detached from the wheel. An extra effort (from the bike, mainly) and a bit of fortune allowed for a god-sent gas station bycicle repairman to fix it. 

Good news is that between our 3 pizzeta lunch and incredibly hearty dinner (I dont even want to think how many people were supposedly fed with what we ingested), we are ready to go over the ride again, and probably twice (calorically speaking at least).

Day 8: of climbs, lunch and the way to Genova

Today we start optimistic: we're getting close enough to our goal that we can start counting the days left to Verona with one hand (the ambiguity works here because we calculate that we're between 4 and 5 days away from the end of the bicycle part of this trip). After a quick breakfast and checking both the weather ( somewhat cooler than yesterday) and route (supposedly flatter than yesterday) for the day, we engage in leaving Imperia.

The coastline here is, as usual, quite beautiful. Rocky beach towns nested between wooded hills and jagged rock outcroppings with the occasional small islet thrown in for good measure. The sea is always a deep blue, darker in the morning and turning metallic with the afternoon sun. All in all, the perfect ingredients for an enjoyable ride.

The towns we pass, normally separated by some sort of hilly terrain, are normally quite busy, this being a popular beach destination. It is this, combined with the hills mentioned earlier, that start to threaten to make this day slow going. 

Still, with our legs cramping a bit but still in high spirits, we stop for some sort of baked good at around mid morning. This time, we add an extra to our ritual: coffee, which in Italy is always the best. Now empowered with the combination of an enjoyable amount of calories and high octane caffeine, we feel we can ride all day.

And so it goes, hill after hill; bay after bay; beach after beach. Today is a great day and no amount of climbing dampens our spirit. The ocean flows always smoothly, the sun shines and reflects on everything and the trees help with the shade and the smell of salty resin which provides the perfect contrast to the otherwise overpowering brightness.

After around 95 km of this, we decide to stop for lunch and, after a short look around in the small town of Cogoleto, we find a sea food restaurant where we order almost half the menu. Something to know: lots of cycling makes you very hungry. The meal is, of course, delicious: different kinds of fish and seafood served with pasta. As we're leaving some of the other patrons ask us for our story. In some strangely coherent mix of Italian and Spanish, we have a very nice conversation and, as is the norm in Italy, some tips for the road. This is the first time we stop in Italy to "eat out" and it's a great experience.

With few kilometers to go, and our energies recovered, we strive to get to Genova early: our camping reservation needs us there before 5. Based on the experience of the day, we're confident to get there way before. Everything also improves once, though some combination of luck, opportunity and Google maps, we find a couple of shortcuts through bike tunnels: the day continues smoothly.

Arriving at the outskirts of Genova, we're greeted by the impressive harbor view. We quickly orient ourselves and, through the application of some improvised bike maneuvers, we start the climb to our camp. Apparently saving the "best" for last, we get a huge climb to the foothills around Genova. We finish it spurred by the thoughts of resting early. Tomorrow we start our first Italian mountain stage.

The camping, as an appropriate epilogue to this day, is an excellent place with very nice installations and friendly staff. We learn quickly we got lucky once again today: we got the last tent pitch left.

Note: if you went through the article expecting something wrong to happen, then you get our feelings today. The day went so smoothly we were suspicious often. All in all, today's route is a very nice experience for people looking for some climbs to exercise and some great scenery. Despite this, not a lot of photos today, I guess we just rode fast and enjoyed the view.

Day 7: the one where we talk to strangers

We left the best camping yet (the title of best camping yet can potentially change each day) at 7:10 am. After a few routing mistakes that led us to some horrible highways, we got to Nice.

Every so often (actually, very often: hundreds of times a day) we need to take a routing choice. Choices are the result of the many sources we employ for the routing. Road signs usually tell the truth, though to our surprise not always. And they are hard to read. Google maps is always active but sometimes way too aggressive recommending "shortcuts". Actual maps are very complete and easy to use but hard to read while ciclying. Common sense is just something that we should use but mor often that not, we don't.

Still, sometimes we don't take very good choices. For example, we chose to go to Monaco in search for maps. 

We failed. It was horrible: never go to Monaco.

We crossed the frontier to Italy and suddenly found out the Italians invested a lot more in tunnels, which is great. We also found out two more things : Italians *are* more sociable than the French and campings *are* more expensive (around twice the price).

We took advantage of the first two findings quickly enough. The first two bicycle-riding locals we met while filling water told us about a bike path that connected Ospedaletti with San Remo. Later, when we had just arrived to the Ospedaletti and were discussing going to look for the bike path, a guy stopped his car in the middle of the street (which was the highway) to tell us about his bicycle (past) life. And about the bike path, of course. The last Italian consultant was yet another friendly cyclist that later stopped by at lunch to offer advice, among other things, about how should we do the Genova - Verona route. He said something about avoiding the rice fields with mosquitoes. We took note, of course. 

The Ospedaletti bike path was definitely as amazing as described. It exceeded every expectation. It connects several costal cities with a 25-kilometer-long bike road with water, shade, resting spaces and tunnels: these tunnels were the *best*: cold and humid, avoiding most climbing.

Our last humans interaction of the day was not Italian but polish. Our camping neighbor Aga arrived while we set up our tents. While dining together, she told us her bicycle adventures, including her current gigantic Almeria - Greece European tour, which can be found here: https://www.polarsteps.com/bagieta/4074863-almeria-grecia

She earned a photo in the blog. 

We are exhausted. Our bicycles are also exhausted in a way: they complain louder and louder (literally mine makes breaking-sounds when I'm climbing a hill). Although not one of the hardest days, it just may be that we (humans and bicycles) are wearing out with the accumulated number of kilometers (horizontally and vertically).

Day 6: The (metaphorical) ascent

Day 5 was labeled "a bad day" by me (Sergio): fell multiple times, reopened my wounds and lost confidence on the clipping pedals.

How did day 6 start? With an extra dose of exactly that. Within the first second of riding my bike, a still sleepy me fell... again... on my bad knee. And it hurt. A lot. So much for trying to start a day on a different note.

But it changed, oh how did it change. Multiple climbs were just what I needed, alongside my 2 blood-bonded companions, we climbed and climbed. And we even told stories while we did it, including my former flat mates' drama (hope they don't read this). Contrary to the norm, ascents were for sharing, descents for speeding and staying silent.

The day just got better and better, meeting friendly fellow bikers at the one-horse town fountain, taking pictures on a bridge until an unidentified animal screech frightened us away, more ascents - more stories, you name it.

We did arrive to a few points that threatened the day to take a negative turn. After a considerable descent, the way was shut due to risk of fires. We hesitated, as moving forward would only make us travel 2 km in the perilous direction while going back would entail about 6 times that, including backtracking upwards the slope we had just gone down. We went for safety but that just added to the experience. We then had lunch with "a view" (see pic below), I learnesd how to change a tire myself (taking the positives from a second day straight flat tire).

But the spirits were too high, even to the point we took a longer road just to go through Cannes' fancy beaches and enjoy cote d'azur's breeze. Just like that, we finally (120 km to be precise) arrived to a beautiful camping with amazing hosts, we decided to take a well deserved swim in the ocean and end our day going through a 6-8 people serving of chile con carne (spoiler alert: we were not satisfied). 

All in all, a fantastic day, we even high fived at the end of it to show our satisfaction. Few times have starting a day on such a low note have taken such a twist (including my personal record). Happiness and smiles all around as I'm writing this before taking a well deserved sleep.

Day 5: when everything goes slightly off

Day 5 started with great optimism. The road we took during day 4 had been great, the campsite we stayed at was nice and we had decided to wake up even earlier to save some time. 

 Our first 50 km or so went quite well even though we had to heavily interpret both the EU's idea of a cycling road and Google maps. Here I need to explain that, theoretically, the EU has decided to create some cycling routes, one of which should be capable of getting you from Spain to Greece. If you ever see this advertised, beware. The best thing I can say about this is that it sometimes uses departmental roads, which are quite good for cycling at a good pace, providing you don't mind the cars. If the EU bike road ever recommends going off the departmental (D) roads, take a hard look at your day and see if you have a couple of hours to spend negotiating either incomplete roads or useless detours and climbs.

So, first 50 km go by and we're feeling quite happy with ourselves, stopping in a small but quite nice town called Varages for a quick croissant and pain au chocolat (or chocolatine) and a water refill. However, just as we start to leave, we find out that Sergio's tire is now flat. We stop at a park and attempt to repair it for a while (until we are successful... of course) and Franco starts calling some campsites to see if they're open and have room. As soon as we get the tire installed, Franco confirms there's a campsite available but they're specifically asking for a pass sanitaire, which one of us doesn't have (Sergio, it's Sergio).

This requires us to find a place where we can get him tested. Thus, we continue and start looking out for pharmacies in the next town's. When we finally find one (in a town called Barjols), they tell us they are just closing for lunch and to come back later. We decide to make the best of our circumstances and figure we'll have lunch here in Barjols, since they claim to have, among other attractions, a mushroom shaped fountain. One thing about this town, city center is at the bottom of the hill and the pharmacy is at the top. The hill is also very steep and the temperature is now about 34°C. You probably can figure out the rest but let's just say this was the day we climbed the most.

Some time after, test completed (passing grade) we head up to our camping. I say up because we really had to climb a lot at this stage. This you can also try to imagine but it will be difficult, you really had to be there. After much climbing, through nice scenery mind you, we reach the descent and limp to our campsite.

Scenery wise, I'd really like to make justice to the sights. We crossed wooded hills, crossed channels and small rivers and passed through extremely beautiful towns perched in the aforementioned hills. If you're lucky, there will be some pictures of some of these sights below. Otherwise, you'll have to picture it in your mind from my not remotely competent description and wait until we can upload some pictures.

Day 4: good day

A good day starts always with darkness at 5 am somewhere in the middle of nowhere.

It follows with a regular breakfast and some flexing, as part as a 2-hour ceremony.

In a good day, the morning is spent doing 80 kilometers while eating croissant, cereal bars and drinking flavored water. Also, (almost) nobody falls from the bicycle during a good day.

A good day is slightly less hot than other days. And, sometimes, the wind actually helps. 

There are many things that can still go wrong during a good day. Like for example running out of water in some town at 14h with 30 C. Or calling 5 campings and getting excuses like "there is no space" or "do you realize this is a nudist camping?". Or even some chain deciding to go wild. 

Still, a good day means that many kilometers are done (sometimes in the wrong direction), that the final camping, who does accept us and is very very far, is super nice and welcoming. 

A good day ends with good food (galette bretonne + half a kilo of pasta) and ends early so we can wake up at 4:45 and start what can then become a great day.