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Venice to Rome by Recumbent It took me three years to get my ducks in a row. In 1995 I did a self contained bike tour from the Grand Canyon to Rocky Mountain National Park with Piero Tassinari, an elementary school teacher from Meldola, Italy (RCN, June/July 1996). Piero insisted that we should repeat the process in his native Italy, which would be a chance to see Italy through his eyes. This time my wife, Lynn, accompanied us. The problems of transportation proved surmountable, even though we were flying to Europe with our long wheelbase recumbents. I used furniture boxes that measured 6 feet long for each bike. The bikes were taken apart, removing wheels, seat, handlebars, and the rear derailleur; I packed so much other gear in the boxes (sleeping bags, pads, etc.) that the boxes weighed in at about 55 lbs. I also wanted to use my BOB trailer, so I packed it inside a large duffelbag with the recumbent seats and other gear. We began our excursion by flying to Hamburg, Germany. There we visited our son Vale, travelling to see the sights by walking, biking, and using the trains. Vale and his girl friend Tia are both performers in musicals in Hamburg, so we went to see them perform in the Phantom of the Opera and in Cats. The bike trails of Hamburg are made of red brick, and they are laid along the edge of the wider sidewalks. If you walk or stand on this trail for more than ten seconds you hear the warning of bike bells, and may have to dodge some serious bike commuter. The wet weather of Hamburg doesnt seem to slow these cyclists, who sport rain gear and even umbrellas! The combination of expensive gasoline, limited parking, well developed bike trails, and regular trains seem to make car ownership in Hamburg foolishness, since we could take our bikes on the trains with us. Maneuvering our long bikes up and down stairs to a second floor apartment proved to be quite a trial, however! After ten days we left Hamburg by train, and Vale planned to join us later for biking in Italy. We rode the trains for almost 24 hours, with two changes, one at 5:30 am... after many difficulties (involving missing one train in Italy, and taking a slightly later train) we arrived in Mestre. Piero was right alongside; when we didnt appear he simply expected us to arrive on the next train. Piero rode a mountain bike on our Grand Canyon tour in America, but he has since changed to a Speed Ross recumbent for medical reasons. I was riding my Infinity LWB with a BOB Trailer, while Lynn was riding a Rans Stratus and using front and rear packs. Italy is usually far from being a flat ride, but Pieros itinerary involved starting with the Venice Lagoons and the Po River Valley, which are as flat as a pancake. We were surprised with the volume of traffic - although Piero chose the less travelled routes, small cars and motor scooters thrummed by continuously. We found Italian drivers to be very respectful of bicycles, however, and they gave us a wide berth. We began a pattern of visiting cities from the campgrounds by public transportation - Venice we reached by boat, for instance, and it is virtually impossible to traverse with motor vehicles or by bicycle. It is truly charming as a city, and a large part of its charm is due to the lack of internal combustion engines! We walked its narrow lanes for hours, and also explored by gondola. We were self contained on this tour, and camped most nights. On the positive side of the ledger, Italian campgrounds frequently were a cheaper way to get to a good beach, and often had a swimming pool, grocery store, bar and restaurant, and even a laundry. As in the states, they tend to be a better way to get to see and to meet the Italians first hand. What we found as a negative, however, is that they lacked any kind of a picnic table or even benches, since this is something the Italian campers supply. This meant we often sat on the ground while eating and cooking, but I found the BOB trailer, when flipped over, makes a fairly decent cooking table. We found the Italians more outgoing, warmer and more reactive than the stalwart Germans, but they also tend to be more gregarious, which can make camping a noisier experience. Showers are usually adequate, although you may pay extra for hot water. Toilets in these campgrounds are often the European pissoirs, which are the trial of a lifetime! Fees are high at the campgrounds (as high as $12 per person), and we found that at some of the towns a stay at a monastery or seminary would cost no more and be much better equipped. Finding these facilities is easier, of course, with a native Italian guide! Italian touring has a very different feel than a tour in the western U.S., in that history is the main focus. We were continually entering another church or museum. The scenery was interesting near the mouth of the Po River, however, and we enjoyed some of the quaint towns on the way, such as Pellestrina and Porto Tolle. Another difference in Italy is that the highways are not numbered or marked in any way. This makes navigation, even for a local Italian like Piero, difficult at times. As you left a town there would be small signs showing what towns lay ahead, but knowing whether you were picking a heavily travelled road or a preferred backroad route was frequently difficult. We passed Bosco di Mesola, a natural forest preserve, and I saw a radio controlled airplane crossing the road. A little farther on I saw a small airport where the plane landed, and the three of us turned in with our recumbents. Here we were welcomed like royalty, and it turned out that this airport was devoted to ultralight aircraft. One of the pilots, Roberto, successfully rode all of our recumbents, long wheelbase or short, above seat steering or below, loaded or unloaded, without even a twitch. When he asked me if I would like a ride in an ultralight I didnt hesitate - if he could pilot our weird steeds he had my complete confidence. I climbed in behind Roberto, with the three bladed wooden push prop right behind me. After accelerating in exhilerating fashion on the grass runway we were up and away for a big loop above the airport. The wing was adjusted with a triangular framework below, much like in hang gliders, and Roberto was shifting the bar from side to side to adjust for the gusty winds. The landing was also amazing as we skimmed inches over the grass, seemingly speeding up, before setting down and rocking forward. After we gave our thanks and said our goodbyes, we headed for the beach and its campgrounds. As we pedalled along we heard the hum of the ultralight engines above us, as a group of them headed east to fly over the beautiful beaches. After visiting Ravenna and enjoying the fantastic mosaics, we headed inland to Pieros home town of Meldola. This is rolling farmland at the foot of the Apennine Range, and it is incredibly beautiful. We stayed in Meldola for several days, seeing the local sights and enjoying the best food and wines. I found (since I now had access to a bathroom scale) that Lynn and I had overloaded our bikes; we trimmed down our packs in preparation for some hard climbing in the mountains. The Italian mountains have very steep climbs, often 8% or even 10% grades, and this proved quite a challenge for loaded bikes, even with our third chainring. Small villages along the way are often charming, and we would stop for a farmers market or for an ice cream cone. At the Donkey Bridge above Premilcuore we even paused for a swim, which was delightful on this hot day. It seemed that Lynn did amazingly well with climbs on her Rans Stratus. Downhills could be as daunting as the climbs; after reaching the crest we had several miles of continuous steep downhills, and I would have to stop to cool off my rims from time to time. We stopped at a farm guesthouse, where we set up our tents and dined on home cooking. After dinner I got out my mandolin, and we had a singalong with the farm couple and the guests; a lady from a caribbean isle, and a couple from Venice. Their favorites were Country Roads, Sweet Baby James, and Clementine. As we finally walked out to our tents we marvelled at the stars and the twinkling fireflies. We now biked into hilly Tuscany, past scenic vinyards and fields of sunflowers. In Fiesole we camped and were joined by my son Vale on his mountain bike, who said he was a little surprised by the 16% slope on the road up to the campground! We stayed a couple nights and took a bus into Florence, enjoying its many churches and the glories of the the Duomo and the Uffizi Gallery. It seems that far fewer Italians ride bicycles on this side of Italy, despite signs saying "If you love Florence, ride your bike." Florence, like many Italian cities, is becoming choked with fast moving Fiats and Vespas. The peaceful experience of Venice was only a memory here, with noisy traffic flowing through this historic town. The idea of closing off even the historic centers of the Tuscan towns to motorized traffic is something that has seemingly never occurred to the Italians, unfortunately. The next day, after a death defying bike ride through frenetic Florence, we headed out into the Tuscan countryside and visited the glorious hill towns. All you find here are hill towns because folks just didnt get along in Italy during centuries past. For safety the towns had to be at the top of the hills, where boiling oil and arrows could be rained down on the attackers. Luckily boiling oil and crossbows are now out - what this meant for cyclists like us, however, was that the daily ride was a series of killer climbs, each followed by glorious downhills. The end of each day was an exhausting ascent into our town of destination. The most amazing day was our ride between Volterra and Massa Marittima. We didnt see one other bicycle during this 40 mile ride (the locals must have known better), and I later figured that we climbed at least 10 miles of 8% grade or steeper that day! We were rewarded here by a local festival, with flag twirling contests, and by a visit to the ancient armory with its "weapons of mass destruction." Though we definitely paid in sweat and tears, we also enjoyed the glories of San Gimignano, Siena, Volterra, and Montecerboli, on our way to the sea. We rolled down into Follonica on the Mediterranean, where a crowd assembled to examine our recumbent mounts. We spent several days heading down the coast and swimming at the fantastic beaches. One of the highlights was Talamone, a spectacular medieval town on a cliff. We climbed down a narrow trail to the rocky beach, and enjoyed bobbing in the crystal clear water like baby seals. On another day Lynn swam at the beach near the campground, while the three of us biked up to the ancient Cosa ruins. This was a hilltop town occupied by the Etruscans and later by the Romans. Now in late July the temperature soared, and I longed to bike early in the day so we could relax and swim during the hot hours. I later found that this was the hottest summer in 50 years in Italy! With our group of four it proved impossible to organize an early departure due to differences of opinion, so we continued to suffer. Stops at fruit stands and stopping under sprinklers provided some relief. Lynn and my son Vale decided to spend more time at the beach when we got to Montalto di Castro, and to get to Rome by train. Piero and I left them at about 10:00am, stopping in Tarquinia to enjoy the Etruscan art. We then headed back "into the furnace" and suffered mightily in our climbs to Monte Romano. We vowed to get an early start, and departed the next morning at 6:00am; this time we hardly noticed the heat, and climbed from Casaletto to the volcanic crater rim and down into the caldera to Lago di Vico, a famous volcanic lake. Here we swam and relaxed in the campground in quite an idyllic setting. The next day we had Lago di Bracciano as our intended destination, but we had heard the previous night that Lynn and Vale would be biking into Flaminia today, which is the campground north of Rome. Upon reaching Civita Castellana, I suggested to Piero we could skip the visit to the lake and take Via Flaminio, the Roman road which leads directly to Rome. Piero and I made great time along this well paved highway. We spent three nights at Flaminia, biking from there into Rome on the bike trail. It was quite an experience to visit Saint Peters, the Roman Forum, and the Colliseum by bicycle. Another day we visited the Sistene Chapel and the Vatican Museums by bus, and also enjoyed the Fountain of the Four Rivers and the Trevi Fountain as we walked around the city. Finally, on the last day we got some bike boxes and packed up the bikes - a 3 or 4 hour process involving extra boxes as well as some cutting and taping. The trip back was exhausting, to say the least, since to prepare for our early departure we started off by spending the night in the Leonardo da Vinci Airport in Rome! Vale flew back to Hamburg, while Lynn and I returned to Denver via Frankfurt and OHare. Our Italian trip was fantastic, but in retrospect I certainly would time it differently. With Pieros teaching schedule July was the month of choice, and it proved to be hot and sticky, particularly the last half of the month. If I had my druthers I would do it in the Spring or Fall. Piero was a fantastic guide, though, and proved indispensible in finding a good route. In any case we wouldnt have experienced Italy through his eyes, which made such an amazing difference. Chet Rideout Chetride@aol.com
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