Bidding an early morning adieu to our agriturismo hotel – on its own, a flashpoint for debate around the ability of U.S. customs intelligence to systematically cross-check whether you’ve pursued ethically dubious dalliances with foreign livestock – ITA6 shuffled off toward Lake Como, occasional home of famous people loosely characterized as “seeming so nice”, notwithstanding the fact that none of us knows them personally and, thus, have no reason to believe they are not completely out-of-touch assclowns.
But we digress. Again.
Starting just outside the Lake itself, the group, hindquarters firmly tenderized four days in, settled in for another spin opening with a comparatively reasonable climb. We would top out around 3,700 feet above sea level, rather than the decidedly less balmy climes typically associated with 9,000 foot alpine passes. But we shouldn’t conflate that framework with notions of “easy riding”. The starter ascent was still 2,500 feet of pitch, marked, for the final stretch, by Muro di Sormano, a 2 km patch of hate with an average grade of 15.5% and a maximum incline of almost 26%.
I realize this may be a lot of inside baseball for those readers who do not ride bikes. Completely reasonable. As a sort of loose analogue, let me recommend the following: (i) stand up; (ii) walk over to a flat vertical surface of some kind (traditional drywall is preferred, but reasonably sturdy glass will do in a pinch); (iii) rub your forehead with a heavy grit sandpaper; and (iv) slam your face into selected flat surface. Repeat for 12 to 18 minutes, depending on your athletic ability and general skull integrity.
Also there was just a ton of shit on the path, so if you’ve got a litter box or a neglected compost bin you can place nearby, that would really give you the full spectrum experience. Follow up with a lot of cured meat and bread. Probably on the way to the hospital. You got that PPO coverage? COBRA? Going month-to-month on it, then? That seems irresponsibly expensive.
SIDEBAR: Guided cycling is a competitive industry. There are many firms purporting to offer high-end, challenging trips to legendary Grand Tour climbs. At the top of Muro di Surmano, ITA6 and HC Tours ran into a representative of one such firm. And while I firmly believe international travel is the best means to experience rich cultural diversity first-hand, this representative – we’ll call him Antonio McChesthair Infidelityface – was an Italian caricature singularity. He sauntered over, remarked, in rather sultry tones, on the fitness of our ride leader and then noted his prior honeymoon experience in San Francisco before observing his “good luck” in being able to guide a group of “American women”. He then closed with what I can only describe as a slut chuckle and too-long-because-it-happened-at-all massage of Gomes’ shoulder. The disquieting smolderstare, lasting no less than 15 minutes for every normal second experienced by the rest of humanity, was, oddly, the least penetrating experience on offer. I guess I’m saying Tony likes to drag the ol’ cannoli through the Chianti region. If you know what I mean. And I think you do. Gross.
With a quick coffee and a high-speed HPV test (came out clean!) in the rearview, we zipped off for climb number two by hammering along Lake Como into Bellagio. The ascent was capped by a small chapel of a nominally Christian nature, which I say principally because the interior was packed wall-to-wall and floor-to-ceiling with cycling memorabilia, including nearly century-old bikes, championship jerseys and industry credentials for everyone’s favorite non-Pope, Joseph “I couldn’t be less likeable if someone sewed a coked-out Randy Quaid to my hip” Ratzinger. Good dude. More snacks, more descent and more lake. A huge group dinner – augmented by the arrival of additional good folk from the Garcia clan – and the squad hit the sheets to rest up for a final day of riding.
Here, some of us might argue the best was saved for last. There would be just one climb following a good deal of lakeside cruising, with no special variations or bonus challenges. In short, we’d all close our journey on the same terms. That climb would start in a small village on the shore of Lake Lugano and close at a dead-end vista known as “Italy’s Balcony”. And what views are there from said balcony? Some have said on the clearest of days, you can see the happiest people on Earth.
Those people are the Swiss.
I feel like we all saw that coming.
View from Italy's Balcony - Lake Lugano and the town of Lugano
What we didn’t see coming was the rogue goat squad that very nearly commandeered our lunch treats. After which they likely would have eaten the plastic table and the better part of a bike before settling in to devouring the HC Tours van. Fortunately, an experienced Italian shopkeeper, clearly familiar with their guerilla tactics, scattered them down to the Swiss border, where they were forced to regroup for an assault on the next group of tourists. Perhaps as a display of prowess – or more likely as a warning – one of the final goats to disappear below the ridgeline offered a long stare back up to ITA6 before, no joke, jumping approximately 1.3 goats into the air, doing a full 180 degree spin and bolting down the hill to join his comrades.
Would just like to highlight that the goat was technically a Swiss goat when it, in fact, did the raddest goat thing a goat has ever goated.
Here, after a final lakeside descent and a 16-member dinner celebration, including riders, non-riders and the full HC Tours crew, the cycling came to a close. Some people tackled bucket-list climbs, some people eclipsed personal expectations and still others fought through difficult patches and intermittent doubts. It is safe to say, in any case, that all had a great time, owed in no small part to the thoughtful due diligence, care, support and preparation offered by the HC Tours team. A big thanks to Aigars, Janis, Arvis and Davis for helping push all of us to press through some of the most difficult and rewarding cycling available in Europe.
Keep checking your closets for Germans.
