In 1997 an idea was born, and 82 friends and acquaintances came together to realise it. Namely, to celebrate the history and culture of bikes in Italy by spending the day riding vintage bikes (pre 1987) around the Strade Bianchi (“white roads”) of Tuscany, starting in Gaiole, Chianti. The Strade Bianchi are the white gravelled roads that link the minor B roads of that region, typically through the area’s many vineyards.
Clearly the event was a success for the original 82, as they, and more, returned the next year. And the next. This growth continued until a cap of 5000 (of which 2000 places are reserved for non-Italians) had to be placed on the number of riders that could turn up, as the village of Gaiole was getting swamped. Being Italy, this cap is flexible. If you are a woman, you have a place. If you are over 65, you have a place. Still, what’s a few over the limit between friends?
Unsurprisingly the quota isn’t sufficient for the demand, so a ballot system was introduced. A friend of mine, Stephen (a bluff, Old School, Ulsterman given to heavy swearing and boozing between bouts of surprisingly informed academic conversation © Stephen) and I (silver tongued, multilingual, suave, aesthete and bon viveur © Stephen) were successful in applying earlier this year. So flights were booked, bike travel bags purchased, car hire arranged and visas obtained from our better halves.
We both had pre 1987 bikes. Mine belonged to my dad, who bought it around 1980, and I’ve been using it regularly for the last few years. My mum even dug out my dad’s old cycling top so I would also have something vintage to wear. Stephen’s bike was bought off eBay. His top half kit was a very beautiful replica Eroica shirt. I won’t make any comments on his choice of apparel for his lower half.
There are 4 routes that cyclists can take – 35km, 75km, 135km or 205km, and we only had to choose the route on the day of registration. While preparing to go to Italy we could not decide on whether we should simply potter around the 75km one, or make a bit
of an effort and do the 135km. Obviously we ignored the shortest (hardly worth getting out of bed for) and the longest (we were there to enjoy ourselves after all!). In the end we decided that the weather, and how we felt, would determine which one we did.
Saturday 5th October saw us drive into Gaiole to find downpours of a biblical nature. Rivers of water were running down roads. Anyone without a brolly looked like a drowned rat. The stalls were deserted as the people hanging around the village were taking refuge in the wine tasting tent. Before we could join them, however, I insisted that we register. And that meant deciding which distance to ride.
We looked at the rain, heard that the next day showers were forecast, and looked at each other. Neither wanted to be the first to suggest that we do the shorter distance, so at the front of the queue we thought about “Rules 5 & 9” (© Velominati.com) and said loudly and clearly: “135km please”. Our route maps were handed out, along with the checkpoint marker document.
And then we made a bee-line for the wine tasting tent. We discovered that the entrance was 5 Euros – but for that we were given a beautiful wineglass, along with a handy neck pouch that could hold the glass in place should both hands be needed for something else, such as eating the wonderful cheeses and hams on offer.
Many, many wines were sampled. Young Chiantis, more matured ones. Even a white Chianti. But there was no pressure to buy, which made the hour or so wandering around very enjoyable indeed. Whilst Stephen and I would have happily stayed there longer, it was now 6pm and I insisted that we return to our apartment to put the bikes together, for they were still in their travel bags.
I took the bike frame out, attached the wheels and put the pedals on. 10 minutes, job done. Turning around, I saw Stephen clutching the handle bars of his bike. “Er, Stephen, why are they not attached to the bike? And does that mean the brakes have been disconnected?”. “Yes, took them off to make it easier to pack. Oh, have you got a pedal spanner as I seem to have forgotten mine. And an Allen key, too……I need to decide which saddle to use.”
The apartment was in a vineyard, and they’d helpfully laid out different bottles of wine that they produced. I took one look at Stephen’s increasing pile of bike bits and tools, and cracked open a bottle.
We woke not to more rain but to a blue sky, with the odd scattered clouds. The Gods were smiling on us, and so we drove to Gaiole in a very good mood. We parked about 1km from the start, and pedalled into town. To discover that arriving at 8am meant we had several thousand cyclists in front of us, waiting to leave. Which meant that by the time we got to the exit gate it was 9am and the marshal informed us that we were too late to do the 135km route, and we’d have to do the 75km one. I think we were both secretly relieved, but of course we feigned disappointment.
However, we both quickly realised that actually it was the right distance. This was not a Sunday morning ride in Essex with friends. Almost every corner was yet another photo opportunity – either a vineyard, or a hill top village or a general landscape. This area is picture postcard Tuscany.
So all this meant that by midday we’d only covered 35km. It was then that our serene progress was halted by Stephen falling off his bike. Not going downhill at speed, but on a particularly steep uphill bit on a gravel road. To add to the indignity, the cyclist following him had his head down so failed to see a prostrate Stephen until it was too late, and ran into him.
Getting gingerly to his feet, blood pouring from both hands Stephen quickly self diagnosed a broken middle finger, possible broken wrist, and pain.
Luckily the first food stop was only a further 5km up the road, so we cycled there slowly. Stephen couldn’t easily go uphill, as he couldn’t grip the bars to get leverage on the steep bits. He couldn’t go downhill, either, because it was too painful to brake. Anyway, eventually we arrived and went to visit the paramedics. They confirmed Stephens’s diagnosis and stated that I should leave Stephen in a bar, go and get the car to pick Stephen up, and go immediately to the nearest A&E in nearby Sienna to get the hand x-rayed, as there was a possible wrist fracture too.
Stephen, as I knew he would, pooh-poohed the idea. The event was called l’Eroica which translates as The Heroic. Why should mere flesh wounds prevent him from finishing? So finish it we did, albeit slowly, getting to the finish line at 4.30pm. Probably the longest time we’ve ever taken ever to cover 75km.
In mitigation we did lose time to the injury. And the food stops. Because unlike most cycling events where the food on offer is water, bananas and energy gels, here in Tuscany it was wine, hams, salamis, cheeses, bread dipped in olive oils, cakes, fruits…….. It would have been rude just to grab a bite and leave so each stop was, well, let’s say prolonged.
Post ride Stephen was still reluctant to go to the hospital. Well, it was less reluctance to go, more he wanted to sit in a bar and drink well deserved ‘post ride malted recovery beverages’ (© Velominati.com).
So we did, until it got dark. Then we had to ride back to the car. The road was unlit, and the bikes had no lights. However, it was less than 1km to the car and there was a fair amount of traffic on the road so we felt it wasn’t that dangerous. We set off, me in the lead. After a few minutes of cycling I turned off the road towards the car park and arriving at the car turned to see no Stephen. I put the bike in the car, and drove out of the car park.
At the junction I had to decide – turn right and go back to town as Stephen must have had a problem cycling and figured I’d go back for him? Or turn left as Stephen must have missed the turning to the brightly lit up car park?
I turned left. A couple of kilometres down the now pitch black road I see an unlit cyclist wobbling. Sure enough, he’d missed the turning. And tells me that since it was pitch black he’d cycled off the road a few times, and also got cramp for 10 minutes so had been sitting in the verge.
Still, he was rescued, and we returned to the apartment. We dumped the bikes, freshened up, and then returned to Gaiole for the final dinner of the event. And once again the food and wine did us proud. The weekend had been a physical and gastronomic treat for us.
On returning to the apartment we noticed that we’d only sampled one of the bottles left out for us. This seemed a shame, so another was opened. And when that was finished a third one was opened. The last one was the cheapest of the three, but frankly we couldn’t tell. They were all good.
Monday morning was a slow one. Bikes were packed away, the car loaded and goodbyes were said to our hosts. They told us that they also owned a tiny village at the top of the hill, which had a lookout tower with a 360 degree view of the area. So naturally we had to visit, and yet again the beauty of the Tuscan landscape blew us away.
We then headed off to Pisa to catch the flight home. Stephen’s hand still looked a disaster, and it had started to swell half way up his arm. Still, nothing that a few coffees couldn’t fix. On arrival at Pisa we had time to make a quick visit to the Leaning Tower, and came across it lit amazingly by the setting sun.
And thence to the airport, where once again Stephen’s propensity for error came through. He’d packed the special olive oils he’s bought as gifts in his hand luggage, and not the bike bags in hold. So yes, £50 worth of olive oils were confiscated as security risks.
On landing at Stanstead, at midnight, I urged Stephen not to go home but to go to his local A&E. It would be quiet at 1 am, so they’d be able to take a look.
Tuesday morning I received a text from him. They’d kept him in for keyhole surgery that morning, and hooked him up to an intravenous drip for some strong antibiotics. He was let out Wednesday evening.
So overall, the trip was superb. I was worried that there would be the Italian equivalents of adenoidal Englishmen say things like ‘that Raleigh model came out in August 1972 and the Shimano gear it has on was first made in September 1978 so your bike is not correct sir“ etc, etc. If there were any, we didn’t notice them.
I also learned that it is the sort of event that one would enjoy more the second time around, as the first trip is about learning the nuances, the timings etc. And that Tuscany really is as beautiful as the travel brochures make it out to be.
So all in all, only 1 question remains: will Stephen’s better half grant him another travel visa another year?
