In no particular rush to leave we slept in a bit – I was going to have a shower but discovered that you needed to buy tokens so washed my hair, etc in the sink – it had nice hot water and no tokens needed.

After getting a bit caught up on my blogging I then took a nice walk out the ‘back’ gate and down to the beach. There weren’t too many people about so I did chi-gong under some trees near the water.

We’re right across the lake from where we were last October after we left Ghisallo after the Tour of Lombardy – I like this area a great deal as it reminds me very strongly of home even though the mountains are a little higher.

We got away around 11:30, stopping for some groceries, then on to our next chosen area to watch the last stage that we’ll see of the Giro. It was mostly east, then a bit north towards Bormio, but turning off shortly after Tirano and onto the Passo di Mortirolo.

The road was really narrow and had many switchbacks – we passed some workers repairing a guard rail so knew we were on the right road. We didn’t go too far up, pulling over just about 2 km up the 12 km climb. We’d found a nice fairly flat spot that fit the campervan perfectly and chose not to go any further. It will be the 5th and last climb of the stage so going right near the top didn’t seem necessary – plus I was nervous about the narrowness of the road and possibly meeting another vehicle coming down.

The Passo di Gavia was supposed to be the last climb of the next day’s racing – and the most difficult of the entire race – but it had to be taken off the route as the risk of avalanche and snow was just too much, even though they worked for days trying to get the road in passable condition.

It started raining just as we found our spot, and proceeded to pour for hours, but we were dry and warm. We had an excellent steak, potatoes, and fried onion with tomatoes dinner – oh, the hardships of camping!

Race day dawned a bit cloudy, but not too bad – if it rains it shouldn’t be as bad as some of the days have been. We had been joined overnight by several more campervans, all lined up in a row below us. When I took Mo for a little walk I happened to see Floriana – she was super happy to see me, and assured me she was ok – they have two other restaurants and are doing alright.

And as the morning progressed the parking lot got more and more full – all directed by the old fellow from last night. He had hundreds of cars crammed in like sardines – no one better be in a hurry to leave!

We ventured down around 10:30 to have a cappuccino and walk around to see what was going on – one highlight was when the police lamborghini pulled in – lots of folks crowding around and taking selfies in front of it, and a couple of lucky young kids being put inside and pretending to drive it.

We chatted for a bit with an older cyclist that had just finished the climb on an electric bike – it was a very nice one and you couldn’t really tell it was electric unless you knew. He was 81 years old and was from Whistler! We went back to the campervan for lunch, then back to the road around 2:30, not wanting to miss anything. We found a great spot about 25 meters from the top of the climb – we got some help climbing over the rather flimsy barrier and squished next to a rock wall with cedar hedges on top. But it was great because no one could get in front of us and we could see down the hill a bit too.

First of all the cavalcade came through – zipped by as usual and I did get a nice black bag out of it – no little stuffed wolf, though, which is what I really want.

As I was taking some test shots making sure the flash was synced a female amateur rider came up – she thought it was pretty cool that I was taking her photo.

Then a little boy rode up – he got such resounding cheers and applause that he turned around at the top, rode down a bit and came up again to the same accolades – perhaps the next Nibali in the making.

At 3:42 the bells in the church tower across the road started ringing – the riders had been spotted on one of the switchbacks below.

Three minutes later the first racers appeared – a breakaway of two about seven minutes ahead of the peloton.

Several of the teams had guys handing off bottles and bars to the riders, but luckily (for them) none of them impeded my shots.

By 4:09 the last rider had passed and folks started to throng the roads trying to get away. We went back to the campervan and took our time leaving – there’s only the one road to and from Ghisallo and it was going to be bumper to bumper so we weren’t in a hurry.

By the time we left the traffic had died down and we had clear sailing south to Lecco, then up the east side of the lake to the small town of Domaso just around the north end and back down the west side a few miles.

We had chosen a campground to head to but couldn’t find it, although it didn’t matter. There were several in a row all along the lakeshore so we just picked one and settled in – it’s owned by a couple of little old german ladies who run it like generals – friendly, but authorative. We didn’t feel like cooking so went out for dinner, walking down the main street to a likely looking restaurant.

It was just lovely – a delicious meal with no cooking or dishwashing involved (at least for us). Colin got the lasagna and I chose pasta with smoked salmon in a cream sauce – it was excellent. As usual over here Mo was welcome and all the waiters and waitresses made a fuss over her – she’s such a little flirt, and always knows who brings the food.

We weren’t in any particular hurry to leave the campground – had a really nice hot shower, then breakfast. After discovering that the laundry soap had split and leaked all over one of the drawers and into the next I spent a while cleaning up the snotty-looking mess.

Just before we left we took a walk to the lake – there’s a beach-bar (the Bondi Beach Cafe) right on the lake and it was full of Harley riders. There’s a boat ramp going down into the water, and a nice park. A couple was sitting on the wall at the lake’s edge feeding some swans bread – I refrained from reminding them that bread is terrible for all birds, but that’s what most people feed them.

We left Dormelletto just after noon and made good time to Ghisallo, above lake Como – we’d been there last October for the Tour of Lombardy and had really liked it. The drive was only about 90 minutes, and we pulled into the parking area near the church and cycling museum just before the rain hit.

Once again Mo didn’t like the thunder, and each time it rolled around us she started barking and howling. It poured for awhile, then slackened off a bit but didn’t stop for hours.

Another campervan joined us and turned out to be from England. We got out and had a chat, then all talked with a young Italian fellow in an official car – they’re going to rope off one of the parking lots for all of the official vehicles tomorrow, and he was trying to find out for us which one so we’d know where it would be ok to park without getting kicked out.

We ended up moving across the road and into the restaurant’s large parking area – there were already three campervans there so we pulled to the far end and got setup.

We had planned on going to the restaurant for dinner – it was owned by the same nice lady, Florianna, that ran the B&B we stayed at in October, and we’d enjoyed the food then. But when we walked over it was all shut up – an old man came and told us it was closed – out of business. We think he might have been the fellow that was raking the leaves and tending the garden last fall.

We then walked about a mile, following a sign that said pizzeria/restaurant and eventually found it – the reception area was totally packed, and we could see a large eating area off to the side. However we were told that it was fully booked and all we could get was take-out – when we remarked on this another guy that was waiting confirmed it. He and his friends – all part of the giro – had phoned ahead and been told the same thing.

We ordered a pizza to go and hoofed it home in the rain to eat – it actually was pretty good, and I have left-overs for breakfast. We were just finished eating when I heard a noise and looked out the side window to see someone gesturing at us. Colin opened his door and it was the old fellow from before – telling us that it would be 5 euros to park for the night. We figured it was cheap enough for where we were, so didn’t quible.

We started out quite early and it was a good thing – we found the route no problem as it’s right across the river from where we stayed. We wanted to be near the top of the Pian del Lupo, which is the second-to-last climb of the day so just followed the route markers back up.

We missed a turn at the town of Frassinetto and went straight for a couple of km – we both noticed that the road was in really bad shape and there were no more pink decorations anywhere, so it wasn’t hard to figure out that we were no longer on the route.

We back-tracked to Frassinetto, and after a couple more mis-directions from Miss Waze got on the right road. It was extremely narrow and winding – if we had met another campervan it would have been impossible to pass each other and we’d probably still be there in the middle of nowhere.

Approaching the summit of the mountain we were hailed by an ‘official’ car that flagged us down to tell us there was no more room at the top – we told him we’d turn around, but after he drove off we just kept going onwards and upwards.

He was right about the summit, however, and there was no room for more vehicles – lots of tents setup and vehicles parked but no extra space that wasn’t blocked off by tape. We got stuck behind a guy in a small car that was blocking the road – all we wanted to do was pass and go down the other side. I think he was asleep, and another fellow eventually responded to the honks and woke him up to move – they had to re-arrange another truck to let him in, then down we went.

It was a bit tricky at first – again if we’d met anyone coming up…but we were ok. We passed a couple of wider spaces that were already occupied but after less then 1 km or so came to a nice area that had space on both sides – if you were careful and had enough under-clearance.

We got ourselves settled and had our breakfast, which we hadn’t taken time to eat before leaving Pont Canavese.

We got the flags setup, then sat outside and watched the usual proceedings – cyclists coming up the hill, people walking up and down getting in their way, cars trying to get by – who needs tv?

I shouted out numerous times for walkers to watch out for the cyclists, then gave up – if a couple of them got run over maybe the others would learn. Of course I don’t really mean that, but…

I was actually surprised by how many people did walk up the mountain – it’s a fair hike from the next town down. We had about a six hour wait from when we arrived to when the racers did, and the waiting fans kept themselves busy in various ways.

One group of fans were all dressed head to toe in pink outfits, they called themselves the ‘lupi di rosa’ or ‘the wolves in pink’ but I thought they looked more like pink panthers. They were the ones with all of the wine bottles on the table at 9:30 in the morning.

There was a very cute little dog that kept walking up and down and across the road – we were very concerned that it was going to get run over, but it seemed to know where it was going and did manage to keep out of the way of the cyclists and cars. I wanted to take it with us, but you can’t adopt every stray you see.

The breakaway arrived at about 3:20 – a decent size of 17 riders.
Another group, including Nibali, passed just a minute or so later, then every minute or two another group.

By 3:45 the mass exodus down the hill had started as soon as the last racer passed.

There was a huge traffic jam caused by a jerk campervan that was trying to go up the hill while everyone else and their dog – literally – were going down. He eventually had to back up a couple hundred metres and pull off the road to wait. He still tried to leave when he should have just waited another few minutes – what a dickhead. Some fans, however, were still having fun.

We took down the flags and waited long enough for the road to clear a bit, then headed down and on to a campground in the town of Dormoletto at the south end of Lago Maggiore for the night. Another wonderful race day at the Giro!

A fierce storm during the night came and went – first light rain, then distant thunder (which Mo ignored), then harder and harder rain and thunder so loud it sounded like we were in the very middle of it – Mo did not ignore that!

By morning it had all passed and the day on the side of the mountain dawned bright and clear. We were joined by a small white van, and discovered a car behind it as well. There were several adults and some kids and they were joined by more of each. Our quiet little corner was not so quiet anymore.

Some official fellows in a van stopped just up around the corner from us – they put up ‘2 km to the top’ signs, so we knew exactly where we were in relation to the rest of the climb.

As the morning progressed the usual amateur riders started coming up – first by ones and twos, then whole groups. We noticed more and more electric bikes, especially with the organized tour groups, but at least they’re out riding and not sitting at home eating peanuts and potato chips.

At one point I saw a young rider standing bent over his bike on the side of the road below us. He was there for several minutes, then slowly pushed his bike towards us. As he got near I asked if he was ok – did he need water – aqua? He said yes please! I ran into the campervan and brought out our partially full 2 litre bottle – he filled his bidon and gulped the whole thing down. I went back inside and grabbed another bottle and he filled his up again, all the while saying thank you – thank you so much.

No cavalcade came through – we figured it was far too steep for them, and they don’t throw out many goodies anyway.

The first racers arrived at 4:18 and they were spaced out every couple of minutes after that – the main contenders were mostly in one group almost 12 minutes behind.

I got some pretty decent photos, but what I noticed is that it’s difficult to tell by looking at them just how steep the road really is.

It took quite a while for all of the racers to pass – I got irritated with some of the amateur cyclists that were coming down the hill before the last racer had even gone by. I yelled at them that the race was still on and they actually stopped until the last ambulance had passed. What jerks – they come all the way to see the race, likely waiting for at least a couple of hours, then can’t even show the decency and respect to watch the whole thing.

We weren’t able to see the end on tv as reception wasn’t great, so we took down the flags, said goodbye to the neighbours and headed back down to Bibiana, then on to Cavour.

We made a quick stop at the wine store, walked around and saw that the painted cow was still there, then made our way – the ‘scenic route’ as it turned out – up to our near our next watching spot.

We got past Torino and continued north to Pont Canavese where we stopped at another place with electricity and water dump but no other facilities. We had a fairly early night as plan to get up very early to head up the mountain in the morning.

I was just nodding off – with Mo tucked beside me – when we heard a loud bang, followed by another. Mo started barking fiercely, and continued to bark and growl every few seconds – the town was having a fireworks show, likely in honour of the Giro. It went on for 15 or 20 minutes, with Mo echoing the bangs, then finally peace and quiet.

We got an early start on the next leg of our journey – headed straight to the motorway northwest towards Torino, where we turned southwest past Pinerolo and on to our favourite camping place at the fruit farm near Cavour.

They still have the adorable little chihuahuas Momma Maya and baby Spreet, as well as a new golden lab named Jorga. This is the first time – out of five or six visits by me now – that they’ve actually had children there. The place is a fruit farm, as well as agriturismo, but one of their main sources of income is a children’s day-care type of place. They have a large playground with swings and things but every other time I’ve been there has been ‘out of season’ for the kids. No such luck this time.

I must say most of the kids were pretty well behaved most of the time – the large lab came over to us to get away from the kids as they weren’t allowed on our side of the fence. They occasionally threw a ball over in order to provide an excuse to cross the fence line, but generally weren’t bothersome, although I must admit I was glad when the two buses that were parked there all day loaded them up and took them away.

We took a foray into the town of Cavour and filled up an empty water bottle from the wine shop with the hose from the large vat, then headed to my favourite cafe.

Unfortunately even though it had lots of Giro decorations in the window, it was closed. We headed further down the street to another cafe where we got some excellent cappucinnos – also had good wi-fi.

The race on Thursday actually passes right in front of the campground not once, but twice, and the folks in the campervan next to us were staying there for that reason.

We, however, wanted a more exciting place to watch from so left the next morning for Mount Montoso, which is between Bibiana and Bagnolo Piemonte (both of which I’ve ridden my bike to on previous visits).

We stopped in Cavour again, but the cafe was still not open so went to the other one again for another excellent capuccinno. After about an hour we left to find our spot on the mountain.

We had no trouble finding Bibiana, and once there just followed all of the pink decorations – there’s only one road that goes up to Mt. Montoso, and it’s very steep and winding. And just like in Cavour the folks have done a great job decorating in honour of the Giro – it’s really nice to see. At the very least the locals got some of the crappy roads re-surfaced for the race.

We passed several places where campervans were already parked and several more possible spots. We went all the way to the village at the top, then turned back and tried one spot but got no tv reception, so continued a little further back down to another corner – perfect. It’s about 2 km from the top and at a sharp corner that is very steep – an excellent place to watch from.

Today is a rest day for the race, and it was beautiful and sunny, of course. We left our camping spot on the side of the road fairly early and drove as close as we could to the town of San Marino, which is on a large rock outcropping and not accessible to campervans.

There was a camping/parking area at the bottom – one campervan had a cat in the window. I walked closer to take a photo – it was one of the ugliest cats I’ve ever seen as it was a hairless one – good for folks with allergies, I guess, but looked more like a large rat than a cat. It must be a good traveller, though, and seemed very calm.

It was a short walk to the cable-car that goes to the top and it wasn’t cheap – 8 euros each! – and poor little Mo had to go in a cage, which was thoughtfully provided. She’d never been in a cage before so didn’t really struggle. The view on the way up was fantastic although the ride was not that long – at least not for the price.

There was a large viewing area right as you left the cable car and those views were even more spectacular. There was a bunch of statues and placques as well. The tourist info office was right around the corner so I promptly headed there to get my passport stamped. As the lady was applying the beautiful stamp Colin ‘joked’ that it was 5 euros – I laughed, but he wasn’t actually joking. At least it was a nice stamp, and very different from all of the other ones I’ve accumulated.

We strolled up and down the narrow, winding roads – the place is already crawling with tour groups and filled with shops selling made-in-China junk. Also some nice stuff and some decent looking restaurants, although rather pricey. There are museums as well, including at least two ‘torture’ museums – we passed on those.

There was one free museum that we enjoyed – all the exhibits were about Pantini – aka ‘il Pirato’ – a great Italian cycling legend. We have a flag of the pirate that we usually fly in honour of him, especially when we’re in Italy.

The town apparently suffered considerable damage towards the end of WWII – likely by the Americans or the Brits, although I couldn’t read the plaque as it was surrounded by hoards of tourists listening to their guide, who I couldn’t understand.

All in all it was a very expensive passport stamp – we agreed that we wouldn’t bother going to the town again even if we were in the area. Our roadside camping in nearby Fiorentino was much more satisfying.

The ride down the cable car almost didn’t happen – Mo now knew what going into the cage was like and didn’t want anything to do with it. The cable car operator was getting impatient – even though we were the only ones there – but eventually Colin managed to shove little Mo in and get the door closed. It was so stupid – Mo is so well behaved, and there was no one else in with us.

Anyway, we made it in and to the bottom and continued back down to the campervan park. We originally planned to take the lesser highway northwest to a campground south of Cremona, but the slowness of the traffic got to us and we headed onto the nearby motorway.

A few hours later we arrived in Fiorenzuola D’Arda and found the campground just outside the town. It’s a lovely place with just a few camping spots – mostly I think they make their money from agritourismo and selling asparagus. Apparently their restaurant is very good but unfortunately wasn’t open for the season yet.

Shortly after arrival I decided a shower would be nice – big mistake. It was the opposite of the problem I had when I was almost scalded by the hot water at the place in Belgium – it was fridgedley cold. I managed to splash a bit of water here and there, then gave up – washing the hair will have to wait.

Race day dawned chilly and cloudy – rain forecast throughout the day. We walked to the store first and got a paper that shows the start order for the ITT, then back to the bar across the road from us for a delicious cappuccino.

I chose to continue further back down the road and around a few corners to see the top of that climb – it’s just about at the ‘7km to go’ sign and has booths setup selling over-priced food and beer.

I decided against taking a chair and watching from there as the spot we’d parked at overnight, being almost across the road from a bar with food was just too good to move from.

The beagle that belonged to the folks in one of the campervans just down from us agreed.

We went to the bar and sat inside until the first riders started arriving, then went outside and sat at a table under an awning. It was drizzling off and on so sometimes we were right at the roadside and sometimes under the awning.

At one point I noticed that one of my earrings were missing – they were made for me by Tony, a friend of Colin’s, and I have two pairs – one with regular bikes, and one with time trial bikes which I was wearing. Some of the bar folks saw me looking around on the ground and asked why – when I told them they all pitched in to help look. Half of the people that were sitting outside were all scouring the ground for my lost treasure – but alas, not one of us was successful.

By the time the last 15 or so racers came by it was pouring so hard we could barely see across the road – they still had over 6 km to go to the top at the town of San Marino.

As soon as the last one passed we scurried back inside the bar to watch the finale on tv. They started serving tapas, which I, of course, tried several of – they were quite tasty.

We got going a little later than originally planned because Alessandro wasn’t able to meet us for dinner in Fano so there was no real rush to leave. We took our time getting packed up and loaded into the campervan before tidying up the house and terrace.

I took some nice ‘after’ shots of the painting and the terrace with the lovely new furniture, then we were on our way.

First stop was returning the cat carrier that had transported Chairman Meow to the vet’s and back, then headed north to Perugia and on to Gubbio. Shortly after there the mountains opened up to a beautiful wide valley, then the road went down and into Fano on the Adriatic coast.

We found a campervan spot right across from the sea – it was totally basic/no frills and ended up being free. The sign said it was six euros for the night but there was nowhere to buy a ticket from or anything so we just parked it. We took a walk north along the sea and found a nice looking restaurant – it wasn’t open for business for an hour or so, and the staff seemed to be having their dinner beforehand.

We kept walking a bit, then eventually turned back. There were guys fishing all along the shore, and a fellow was kite surfing out on the water – he looked like he was really working it, full wetsuit and all. By the time we got back to the restaurant they had just opened so we went in.

As usual we shared an order of bruschetta, which because we are on the Adriatic was four large pieces with different seafood. I loved three of them, but ended up offering the topping of the very salty anchovie-type one to Colin.

For the main dish we both got the seafood risotto, which was very delicious. I took at least half of mine home for breakfast.

We got a fairly early start the next morning and took a rather meandering route towards San Marino to get onto the ITT route. We eventually found the pink arrows and just followed them up and around, passing into the principality of San Marino.

We found a lovely spot in the village of Fiorentino, almost across from a bar/restaurant and with an excellent view of the valley below.

We’re on top of a ridge so actually have views from both sides. We ventured into the bar and had a drink, then decided to stay for lunch, which was a good decision. The menu was hand written on a tiny pink (ha ha) post-it note pad, and the waitress – who we thought could speak english, but didn’t really – showed us the two or three dishes of the day. Colin had the pasta with marscapone and spinache, while I chose the pasta with ragu – both good choices.

After lunch we managed to find out that the bar would be open tomorrow on race day, but the kitchen would not be doing hot meals, but rather just paninis, etc. The decor is very diverse – it seems that the owner likes all things american and/or mexican, including Harleys.

Most of the last week was spent doing things around the house – painting railings and outside walls, topping up plants, etc.

The weather has generally been lousy – not a lot of sunshine or warmth. Had a couple of bad storms – really hard rain, lightening and thunder one night that Mo had to bark at, and a fierce wind storm all day long a couple of days ago – even the pigeons took shelter.

The bell tower is chiming once again, although it’s 2 hours and 40 minutes slow. It doesn’t matter in the mornings but can be a bit annoying at night when it doesn’t quit counting the time until 20 to 1 in the morning.

Chairman Meow has been spending more and more time at the house – his human Angelo has been away a lot and he likes it here because we let him in the house out of the rain and wind – oh, and we feed him too. A few of the other neighbourhood cats have realized that there’s food here, so we are now feeding another little one as well from time to time.

One day we were out on the terrace doing some things and I heard a buzzing – I said it sounds like some bees, and wondered where they were. I went inside while Colin and Mo were still outside, then I heard them rush in and shut the door tight. Colin was looking out the window and told me to come quick – it wasn’t just a few bees, but thousands and thousands in a slow-moving swarm that came right down the lane on the lower side of the house.

They hovered for awhile just across and down a bit, then slowly moved on – they sounded like a freight train there were so many of them. A little later we were heading down to the bar and Colin had to take something down to the campervan – Mo and I took the short route to meet him at the bottom. We got partway down the ‘78 steps’ portion and I came to a dead stop. The bees were hovering quite low very near where the ‘short way’ and the ‘long way’ met.

I scooped Mo up and made a quick backtrack all the way up and around the long way that Colin had taken. When we got to where the short way and the long way met we managed to scurry by the hovering mass without getting attacked.

Despite a couple more days of crappy weather we managed to get all of the painting done that we wanted. We even managed to get Chairman Meow in a carrier case – with Colin wearing heavy-duty work gloves – and then taking him to the vets to get ‘fixed’.

Angelo had given his blessing to the venture, but was too scared of Meow’s vicious claws to try to get him in a box. Several hours later Colin collected him but no matter how much Meow begged we couldn’t yet feed him, following the vet’s instructions to wait until evening. Poor fellow – losing his balls and then being denied food all in the same day.