My Italian Job
The Journey Begins
Communication Gap
Ma
My Story
Solo Ride Through Tuscany exhausted in the early evening to prepare for the first day of cycling. It was at this point that reality sank in, and I spent a sleepless night hyperventilating at the thought of finding my way out of Florence on the bike!
First things first, I need to clarify that I’ m a seriously lazy cyclist. I hate climbing hills! I cycle once a week in the Cradle of Humankind, at most, and yet I always seem to find myself on the start line of the 947 Cycle Challenge, year after year, and every time without proper training – and every year my time just gets slower. I also wouldn’ t know where to start fixing my bike. But I do love cycling – the time out in the countryside, introspecting while peddling, and the obligatory photography from the bike.
My Italian Job
I never actually planned to go to Tuscany. I was on the lookout for cycling itineraries that offered flat, picturesque and easy riding, so I spent hours reading and analysing each tour. In fact,
50
A spontaneous decision to start ticking things off my bucket list saw me fly northwards and spend a week guiding myself on a cycling trip through Tuscany late last year, and what an adventure it was. – BY TONI SUDDES
ISSUE 91 FEBRUARY 2017 / www. modernathlete. co. za
I took so long to commit that by the time I was ready, Tuscany was the only tour available for my planned travel dates!
The description of the tour rated the‘ Gran Tour from Florence to Siena to Pisa’ at an intermediary competence level( 3 out of 5) required to comfortably cycle the 200km route in seven days, and I in turn confidently classified myself as such. I imagined the Tuscan hills to be comparable to those in the Cradle, and the hills that I had cycled during an 850km journey from Johannesburg to Queenstown in 2013 to raise funds for education.( More on that at www. 1965ride. co. za). How wrong I was.
Four weeks before I was due to leave, and having read more about the route, I started to panic. I went on a crash diet and even started peddling more a week. Robbie from Cycle Repair Centre also gave me a crash course in bike maintenance, showing me how to change, repair and refit a tyre as well as how to repair a broken chain. Just the basics, to help me in a bind.
The Journey Begins
I arrived in Florence armed with a few Italian greetings and no idea of what lay ahead. I spent the first day sightseeing and shopping for CO2 inflators and a few mandatory tools for the anticipated bike maintenance. I got lost walking around Florence, which was thoroughly enjoyable, and returned to my hotel room
At 8am I met Alessandro in the hotel lobby, who delivered my bike and helmet. He was also my‘ luggage man’ – responsible for moving my luggage to each new destination on a daily basis, and my emergency contact … unfortunately, though, not for flat tyres. Or directions!
Getting out of Florence was easier than I had anticipated, in spite of reading directions from my 80-page booklet in a waterproof sleeve, positioned on top of the storage box hanging off the handlebars, while paying attention to traffic and road signs. When I reached Piazzale Michelangiolo outside Florence, I was rewarded with the most magnificent view, and felt extremely confident about the next part of the journey. And that’ s when things fell apart …
Communication Gap
The next day the directions suddenly confused me, the weather changed, the hills were horrendous, and I thought the scenery was totally overrated. I got horribly lost and found every restaurant, bar and shop closed – siesta! I finally found a country restaurant open and through a combination of my broken Italian and the waiter’ s broken English, realised that I had arrived in a town that wasn’ t on the itinerary, so I had to backtrack.
Those directions took me to another town that wasn’ t on the itinerary, resulting in me desperately knocking on a house door. Another set of Italian directions and I was on my way – up a 5km vertical climb which took me an hour to cycle and walk, in the sweltering heat, and after more hills I eventually arrived in Greve, where I was met by the most unwelcoming Italian hotel owner. I was close to tears, and the next morning I woke up wondering whether I was equipped for another day of getting lost and taking seven hours to cycle 40km, but I put on my big girl panties and set off. The first part
Images: Courtesy Toni Suddes