Italy
Sardinia, Italy and the Adventure Travel of a Lifetime
Italy’s western-most island is not often on tourists’ top-ten list when visiting the peninsula. In fact, some people confuse Sardinia with Corsica (a smaller island to the north belonging to France, home to two famous twin brothers). Yet like many islands in this part of the world, Sardinia boasts a culture and history that makes it unlike any mainland Italian region as well as any other European country. Australian-based Punto Tours runs a few unique bike trip itineraries on this beautiful island through many of the most historic and picturesque villages imaginable. Fall is a great time to travel to Italy and Punto Tours’ Sardinia departure is a storybook vacation. Today, Sardinia remains a true “emerald” of the Mediterranean Sea: full of luscious green mountains covered in thick forests, scored with plummeting rocky chasms, all of which make it a unique Mediterranean destination.
To give you an idea of Punto Tours’ magical week-long Sardinian escape, read on. The following villages are just a few highlights of this special departure:
Alghero
Hard to believe that Italy could have as much Catalan and Spanish influence as Alghero has, but this city was under Iberian rule starting in 1354. The original towers (built by the Genoa kings) were knocked down and the Spaniards built new looming defense structures. In 1720, when Sardinia was annexed by the Savoy Kingdom, Alghero remained primarily Catalan. Today you can still visit the seven towers still standing: among which the Torre de Sant Joan, the Torre del Portal and the Torre di Sulis have the richest history and the most Spanish influence.
Bosa
Set along the Temo river in western Sardinia, Bosa is picturesque with its XII century fortress overlooking the valley. Its 300 m perimeter walls enclose the sacrosanct N.S de s
os Regnos Altos: a XIV century cathedral with some of the best preserved frescos from the 1300s. Bosa celebrates its Festa di Santa Maria del Mare on the first Sunday of August, with a boat procession, carrying a statue of the Madonna out to sea.
Oristano
Sartiglia is a festival in Oristano that comes from medieval Spanish practices. During the Easter celebration, a rider on horseback adorns Castilian medieval dress, garnished with flowing silk scarves and a round black hat. An androgynous mask is placed over the rider’s eyes. The objective is to thread as many iron rings with his saber while he rides through the wild crowds in the center square. Even the name Sartiglia comes from the old castilian language meaning “ring” but also “fortune.” Thus the horseman with the most rings will win the contest and will also have the most prosperous year.
Gennargentu
This mountainous forest region contains the highest mountains on the island. Many of these geological formations are said to be some of the oldest in mainland Europe. With peaks high enough to accommodate skiers in the winter, this part of Sardinia is home to many endemic species of flora and fauna, and is a stunning contrast to the pearly beaches and azure waters so commonly associated with this island.
Guspini and Villamar
Guspini has been a mining village ever since the Phonetician conquest of Sardinia. Lead, silver and zinc were just a few of the minerals extracted from these dark caves which were the last residences for many ancient Roman citizens banished fromt he eternal city. In contrast, Villamar is decorated with stunning murals on many of the village walls. These paintings depict the Sardinian lifestyle in captivating images of daily life and the history of the islanders’ struggle.
Sant’Antíoco
This picturesque and historical city was first founded by the Phoenicians in the VIII century B.C, and is home to their tophet necropolis (burial ground for children). It served as a major municipal city for the Roman Empire and eventually became the isle of exile for Sardinia’s patron saint, Saint Antiochus, martyred in 110 A.D. in the mines of the island. These days the treasure of this minor island lies above ground in its sandy beaches and turquoise waters.
Nevi say Nevi: Italian Mountain Bike manufacturer strikes Gold with Titanium
Descending on single track is such a great feeling. Tucking behind the seat and opening the brakes ignites the endorphins, sending adrenaline through the body. Certainly many mountain bikers have experienced this adventure in cerebral chemistry, thinking that their bike is – without a doubt – the best in the world.
Think again.
A small bike manufacturer out of Bergamo, Italy has an interesting way of making fram
es. Nevi carefully chooses the titanium tubes (Grade 9 3AL-2.5V TI) and refines them before welding them together. After raw cutting them to the necessary specifications, the tubes are washed and lubed in vats using ultrasound! They are then welded together in an hyperbaric chamber (to prevent dust from interfering with the weld), creating an inert gas chamber.
Yet the most interesting part of the process is “attaching” the bottom bracket. Other frame manufacturers weld the bottom brac
ket as the rest of frame is completed which – according to Nevi – is wrong. Nevi measures its tubes, assembles its frame and places the bottom bracket at the end of the process. This way they assure the pedal center is perfectly perpendicular to the movement plane of the frame.
At the very end of this process, the chainstays, as well as the entire posterior of the frame, are assembled before being finished. Again, using the hyperbolic chamber helps to remove every impurity as the assembly is finished. They also make custom frames, so if the dimensions and sizes of the standard bikes don’t suit your needs, you can send them your information and they’ll make a custom fit.
Pros: The construction makes for a superb ride. Light and maneuverable in the tightest corners and the steepest track, Nevi’s construction is without flaw, and the lifetime guarantee puts their word behind each frame. I highly recommend the 29” for a smooth and effortless ride. The custom possibilities are endless – from the size of the seat tube to the length of the down tube – this probably will be the last mountain bike you ever buy.
Cons: It’s unfortunate that these frames are hard to come by. There is no retailer in North America (at least that I know of) and they are hard to come by in Europe. Nevi has a few of them listed here, but making them difficult to acquire makes them more desirable right? Don’t despair, that doesn’t mean you’ll never find one. Nevi say Nevi.
The Granfondo Pinarello Marathon and the “Goat’s Leap.”
The French Alps, the Giro d’Italia and now the Granfondo Pinarello. The Granfondo is a cycling event primarily for non-professional bike racers, but professionals also participate for training purposes. In Italy, these cycling races have been popular for well over 20 years, of which La Fausto Coppi, La Granfondo Eddy Merckx, and the Pinarello Marathon are just a few of the most well-known.
On July 17th, Punto Tours is leading a group that will partake in one of the most ambitious events – the Pinarello Marathon. Forget most of what I’ve written about the Zoncolan and this video, in one week the Pinarello Marathon promises to be an even bigger challenge for the group of cyclists presently riding the Italian mountainside. As their website describes, there are two possible circuits: one of 130 km, and the other of 205 km. Thus, isn’t necessarily for the Sunday stroller.
Naturally there are two departure times for the two circuits, but what is stunning is the amount of elevation gained over the course of the race. The “short” route, claims approximately 1100 m, while the “regular” route of 205 km boasts about 700 m more. Add to that a grueling climb through the Salto della Capra (The Goat’s Leap) at a grade of approximately 20% and higher for a duration of about a kilometer or so. Of course, the ride doesn’t finish there: after 12 km more of climbing another 400 m, the group will arrive at the military base atop Monte Grappa. Oh, then there is the return all the way to Treviso in
the northeastern part of Italy.
However impressive this may all sound, keep in mind that the beauty of a Granfondo is that it is not only focused around cycling (if you can believe that after all you’ve read so far). Music, food, giveaways and a convivial atmosphere await those who wonder around the city of Treviso, in the Veneto, waiting for the race to end. However it’s a great way to spend the day in a beautiful Italian town. The Granfondo is a fantastic way to cycle some of Italy’s most impressive hills, while also enjoying all the culture and food this region has to offer.
Zoncolan: Video from the Giro 2011
A few weeks ago, I posted this blog about climbing the Zoncolan by bike. A few weeks later I posted this response to my initial post. I’ve finally gotten around to edit all the video I took on that magnificent day into a nice six-minute adventure.
I’m not here to promote cycling. I’m here for the pure adventure of what I experienced that day in the mountain, watching the Giro d’Italia. During the time we sat on the mountain, listening to the howling and screaming, I felt a sense of what it must have been like 60 years ago. The intensity of the crowd must’ve been similarly intense, and the foreboding clouds and rolling thunder only increased the drama. It was a scene unlike any I’ve ever lived. With the following video, I hope the reader can also partake in – what can only be described as – one of the most electric and dramatic days of my life.
Special thanks to Punto Tours for having placed me on assignment for this piece.
I’d greatly enjoy reading your comments if you feel so inspired by this video. I’ll be on assignment again soon, but I’ll make sure to get back to you as quickly as I can.
Facing Fear: New Depths in Adventure Travel
“Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch’entrate.” This epithet – notoriously carved above the entrance gates to Dante’s Inferno – initiated the Zoncolan climb: a narrow road with an average 15% grade for 10 kilometers. The top of the climb reaches 1700 m with stunning views over the valley. A few weeks ago I wrote about scouting the Zoncolan here. It would be a futile attempt in this blog post to express in detail each painful meter, each dragging foot of elevation gain, every aching rotation of the pedals. Oh reader! I would like to quench your curiosity with an amazing tale about our hero’s relentless battle to reach the heavenly summit. It would be a privilege to relate an epic tale of courageously facing one’s fears with the ecstatic onlookers cheering on our protagonist to new heights. To which end he presses further, out of the saddle, to a climactic victory up high.
Dear reader, I would like to relate all this, but I can’t. Dante’s journey into hell is by all accounts a “descent.” It is the spiraling “ascent” through Purgatory that is physically exhausting, emotionally draining, yet redemption awaits for those who are true of heart. For this tale, by the fourth kilometer, the mountain had gotten the better of our two-wheeled pilgrim, who descended from his bicycle to walk quite a distance. There is nothing to pen about this journey. In fact, there is no story here.
There is legend.
For had our hero not been witness to the most stunning interplay of human determination and elemental wrath, it would otherwise be impossible to believe. It was a stunning display of our meager existence interlaced with powers greater than we imagine.
The early afternoon scorched. Clear skies gave way to blazing temperatures. Our cyclists moved slowly up the hill, burdened with backpacks equipped with supplies for whatever adverse elements lay in store for the afternoon. Morning television reported possible late thunderstorms. Yet, it was due in part to this heat that our heroes stepped off from their bicycles and began to walk. The climb was an unbearable furnace.
But as Dante’s Inferno is a mix of fire and ice, so is this mountain. Lo Zoncolan is high enough to wield freezing temperatures and gale-force winds. After hours of walking, our weary travelers made it to within 350 m of the finish line, where over 100,000 damned souls screamed and wailed in expectation of a great finish. Their moans reflected an agony of almost having been exiled to this mountain top for hours if not days, waiting for he big finish to arrive. After hours of inebriation in the blazing sun, these faceless shadows had lost their wits, teetering on the brink of insanity. Our cyclists stayed focused, climbing out of the girone that was the small mountain road and onto the grassy knoll just before the 100m sign to the finish.
The deafening loudspeaker reports announcing the peloton’s proximity rivaled heaven’s trumpeting archangels. The crowd whistled and screamed in drunken mists, spinning themselves dizzy within the mountain fog that settled. At every numerical countdown – 8 km from the finish, now 5 km, now 3 km – these specters howled and roared. Helicopters mimicked Satan’s minions, soaring overhead like black demons, beating the air with a million anxious heartbeats. The ground shook as the wind stirred the mountain sides, bringing an icy end to the day’s scorching heat.
One glance over the shoulder revealed what lay in the hours to come: black clouds grew within the eastern valley of Zoncolan. “That wrath is headed this way,” they thought. At the same moment, a distant thunder roll, then another, and the masses voiced everyone’s inner tension. The mobs gathered around the narrow asphalt path, as flashes of light lit up the crowd. Some believed they were merely early camera flashes, but far away an angry deity was aroused in a fury. The light and sound initially seemed unable to find a perfect rhythm: first a flash than a grumbling moan about half a minute later. But little by little, the two lovers slowly embraced until they were dancing directly over our heads.
Suddenly a collective scream overtook the mountain side, growing in intensity: the first riders appeared from the dark forest below. The guardians along the
path locked arms and held the possessed and inebriated spirits from tearing apart the first cyclists: released like fresh souls into this unforgiving underworld. With 200 m to go, the first drops of rain fell on the racers, the road, the podium and the spectators. As Igor Anton made his way to the 50 m mark, the rain fell in diagonal sheets, riveting the protective plastic covers of the bierhaus and softening the grassy hillsides. By the time the second racer, Alberto Contador, came to that same mark, the weather changed to bitter cold. The rain became pea-sized hail, bouncing off the Spaniard’s helmet and the pavement. Lightning continued to streak and snap overhead, as the thunder that followed its steps muffled the crazed and infuriated loudspeaker, which screamed in vain to commentate meter by meter the outcome of this awesome spectacle.
Fearful and tired, the spectators dashed for shelter. What little cover there was at this altitude found itself bursting with four to five-times the number of people it was constructed to hold. Another torrent of hail and rain scattered these lost souls and created mud pits and slippery paths through the fields. Since the road was closed to the racers, the only remaining option was to wait out the storm with no cover, or hike through the treacherous, murky goat paths to get to the other side of the mountain. Our heroes threw their bikes over their shoulders, and began climbing up. They advanced towards the mayhem at the top of the mountain, which was compounded by over 100,00 people moving all at once.
Scaling muddy mountain sides and straddling aluminum fences, our travelers stumbled upon the last member of the group (quite miraculously) at the top of the climb. Dressed as best as possible for foul weather, the three began to descend the mountain in a torrential thunderstorm. Lightning crashed on the hillside as the skies rumbled and cracked with discontent. Every car looking to flee the chaos maneuvered its way along the harrowing narrow roads with dropping cliffs on either side. A veritable exodus out of hell, the cars were backed up and honking, with their hazards flashing. Our travelers threaded the necessary needles to get away from this chaos and down to warmer altitudes. At a bar in the valley, Charon – the van – drove our journeymen out from the rings of hell and into a warm hotel for the evening.
Dear reader, I would have liked to have written about my personal successes on Zoncolan. In a way, I believe I just did.
How now, Giau?
“Cima Coppi” is the name given to the highest climb during each year’s Giro d’Italia. It’s a tribute to the memory of Fausto Coppi: one of the greatest Italian cyclists of all time. Instead of drugs and performance enhancers, he ate prosciutto, drank red wine, and biked without a helmet in a wool jersey…on dirt roads.
Along the road that leads to Pocol Giau, in the Italian Dolomites (north of the Veneto region), lies the
remains of the Muraglia di Giau: a great stone wall built in 1753 and completed in 6 months that stretched from the top of the mountain to Crepe Formin. This barrier was originally under a meter tall, with a 150 cm base width. Built by the authorities from the Republic of Venice and the Austrian Empire, it was used to settle border disputes between Cortina and San Vito.
The pass connecting Cortina d’Ampezzo with the Val Fiorentina is known as Passo Giau. It is this year’s Cima Coppi at the 2011 Giro d’Italia. The first time it was showcased as the highest pass in the race was in 1973, summited by the Spaniard José Manuel Fuente. The Giau is also the steepest and highest climb in the Marathona dles Dolomites: an amateur bicycle race that bisects these majestic slopes. I’ve participated with a number of my friends in this race – some who went the right way, others who didn’t – yet we all managed to make it to where we needed to be in the end.
As we crested the summit in our snazzy red van the other day, the pass was empty, deserted. A layer of snow softened footsteps and the only noise was the sound of the wind over the stone. The light was overwhelming: sun-rays came from every direction, reflecting off the snow, yet the views were beyond imaginable. To be up there at that hour of the morning, the only people around for miles, knowing that we were at the top of one of the most popular bike races in the world, was magnificent. Our next experience on Giau will be by bike, with hundreds of other multi-colored cyclists trying their best to master the Cima Coppi.
Zoncolan
Standing on top of this mountain reminds me of balancing a basketball on a pin-head. Each side of the mountain drops precariously in an endless abyss. The only animal that leaps and bounds effortlessly is the little cocker spaniel a local had brought to the top of Zoncolan for some fresh air. As for Vince and me, we are still mesmerized not only by the natural beauty surrounding us, but also the intensity of the ascent.
Monte Zoncolan is one of the most challenging climbs in professional cycling. I could explain percent 
grades and the lengths of the climb, but many other websites already do that (climbbybike.com does a great job of that here). We drove the route from Ovaro to the top, checking out its difficulty for our group to pass by in about a week’s time. My impression of this legendary climb is that it visibly made our van seem microscopic.
With other mountain roads (even Stelvio) the road is wider, giving you a false sense of space. On the Zoncolan, the road becomes increasingly narrow after the last village, just barely enough to fit our vehicle on what was supposed to be a two-lane surface. Each switch-back was not only narrow but steep, dragging the back wheels on the pavement as we continued upwards. On the valley side, we couldn’t see the road: a vast abyss of Alpine beauty seemed to open underneath us. We were no more than a speck on the side of the mountain, stuck in second gear, chugging up one of the steepest hills I have ever seen. The two tunnels near the summit – only a car’s width wide – were like threading a needle at 1,700 m in our 8 person passenger van. The snow at the mou
th of each tunnel made the entry a slippery one.
Once at the top, we got out and walked around for 15 minutes, stretching our backs from 10 km of leaning forward in the van (maybe to keep the van continuing uphill?). Apart from the satisfaction of doing something like this for the challenge, the bragging rights, or to tick another box, the panorama surrounding the Zoncolan is out of this world and worth the drive if you can’t make it up on a bike.
I’ll be blogging/videoing the climb when it’s done, on May 21st – the same day the Giro d’Italia finishes on the summit. Make sure to tune in.
Monte Grappa and The Fight of a Lifetime
Monte Grappa is a WW I battleground standing at 5769 ft. The scene of decisive battles during the First World War and some of the Second, it is known to many for the military shrine at the top of Mount Grappa, containing the remains of Italian and Austro-Hungarian military exploits along with a museum of the Great War.
In World War I, after the Italian defeat at Kobarid, the peak became the pivot of the Italian defense. They fought off Austrians desperately trying to gain access to the Veneto plain. By digging caves in the solid rock and fixing artillery positions from above, the Italians dominated the Austrian army and kept vigilance over the front at Montello.
During the Second World War Monte Grappa served as a refuge for the partisans. It was subject to horrifying Nazi and fascist raids. The partisans that weren’t killed in the mountains were publicly hanged in the village of Bassano del Grappa. The Nazis employed between 15,000 to 20,000 men to hunt down and execute the 1,500 partisans hidden in the villages and the slopes of the mountain.
But this adventure will be done on a bicycle. Monte Grappa has been visited three times during the Giro d’Italia, the last time in 1982 when it was won by Spain’s Vincente Belda. As of May 15, 2011, we found the top of Monte Grappa covered in 10 cm of fresh snow. As we made our way to the top, the emerald pastures gave way to a wintery landscape, as the clouds and fog funneled upwards, releasing themselves to the thermal lifts coming from the valley. At times, we wondered if our van would make it to the top as it slipped and slid along the narrow, snow covered asphalt. Eventually we reached the top, where winds topped at 40 kms an hour and the snow continued to fall.
At approximately 25 km for 6% average grade, it will be an adventure for our cyclists. Yet the images of young soldiers giving their lives to protect the delicate valley below give new meaning to what sacrifice really means.
What you don’t know about Sardinia could Thrill you.
I was already concerned about the weather during our departure from Pula, in the southern part of the island. By the time we had packed our bags, the rain began to fall. The skies were grey. I lifted a large backpack filled with notebooks and cameras on my back as tiny drops fell on my face. My good friend Enrico had even less to carry: a small rucksack and a burning desire to pedal. Our adventure teetered on the brink of waterlogged shoes and uncomfortable shorts. We didn’t carry a change of clothing with us and we had no intention of doing so. But that is all part of the adventure when mountain biking in southwestern Sardinia.
For early spring it was uncommonly cold weather along the second largest island in the Mediterranean. We had specifically chosen this week to do a more intense hike along the snagged routes and plummeting pitches of the Selvaggio Blu: a challenging itinerary along the Gulf of Orosei. All the more reason we had packed lightly (Enrico packed light; I was hoping for spectacular pictures). We opted for a mountain bike itinerary along routes designed by the Sardegna Tourism Board and while Enrico had
already shipped his bike to the island, I was able to get a new Felt front-suspension from Simone at ProBike in Pula.
Fortunately for us, July and August are the high tourist months in Sardinia, when most Italians and North Europeans flock to the island to marvel at its ivory beaches and azure waters. The first week of May permitted Enrico and me the opportunity to have the dirt roads and lonely paths all to ourselves. A shepherd or forest ranger would pass, tending his flock, or roasting pork chops along the side of the road. Some hunters were around, but we were mostly on our own. The weather was damp and menacing, yet the heavens never fully unleashed the wrath we were expecting. In fact, a few times the skies let out a fine spray of mist which was a cool welcome after one particularly sweltering day.
Not only was the weather in our favor, but so was the ride. It unfolded as a fairytale excursion through dense forests, desert dunes, ridge rides and quintessential small hamlets. Our travels took us to the Temple of Antas, the Mines of Rosas, the abandoned digs at Ingurtosu, a cheese maker, multiple small animals (wild and domesticated) and a run-in with the Carabinieri in Sant Angelo. We soared to the bottom of downhills (with only one brake) and sweated uphills that would put alpine climbs to shame. The amount of pure virgin Sardinian countryside we saw is unimaginable, especially when you think you’ve seen all the island has to offer. Mountain biking – even for four days – brought us to peaks and valleys we would have only stared at from the beach saying to ourselves, “I wonder how you get up there.”
July and Augus
t are the months to go to the beach and soak your toes. If you are looking to do more on an island that has so much more to offer, take trips like these in the off-season on a shoe-string for some epic adventures. Anyone interested in riding an organized trip through this savage and wonderfully untouched area of Sardinia, should contact one of the tour operators active on the island. For example Skedaddle, HappyTrails MTB, and Dolcevita Tours all organize wonderful Mountain Bike excursions through Sardinia. For those of you looking to go on your own, contact the Sardinia Board of Tourism and bring a GPS, a map, and a good sense of where you are. For further details of our exploits, you’ll be able to read about them in Free Wheelin’ in about a month (link to follow), and maybe another bike publication, if they find it as cool as I do to publish.
So if you find this cool, make sure you like it here below.
Movie Mondays: Eating at ‘My Friends’ in Sicily
No. There is no grammatical error in the title of this post. That is what Amici Miei means in Italian, and in this restaurant tucked away behind the stone walls in Piazza Armerina, that is exactly the kind of reception you will receive: the comforting greeting of friends. Upon walking into the restaurant, you are not a customer, but a long-lost acquaintance, returning to find good friends in a familiar place.
The three key players at Amici Miei have succeeded in conducting culinary orchestral masterpieces. Owners Andrea and Sonia have created a wonderful dinning experience that not only showcases Sicilian cuisine, but also the specialties around the Enna province. Most people salivate over seafood platters and other marine specialties when they think of Sicily’s kitchen. But they are missing the local honey and aged ricotta cheese, the cavatti and pistachio, the roasted lamb and potatoes, and the exquisite semifreddo di torroncino: a cool nougat covered with rich dark chocolate. Simone – head chef and fundamental to the final product – creates the perfect medleys of local products, fashioning them into symphonies that are music to the mouth.
Andrea, Sonia and Simone have also created an atmosphere as delicious as their menu. At Amici Miei, you are with friends. There are no stuffy shirts, no fancy dress, no lead crystal chandeliers. What you find are warm 100-year-old limestone walls, friendly staff and that comforting Sicilian hospitality that I can never get enough of. At Amici Miei, the ambiance is jovial and upbeat so the patrons can enjoy what is honestly a good time with good friends and good food.
Thanks to the folks at Amici Miei for letting me film their beautiful establishment. Thanks again to Peter and Susan for letting me use their sound bites. And thanks especially to a little-known musician from Canada (“Steely Dee”) for the background music. I hope you enjoy the video.
Video is here since YouTube has decided not to cooperate with me this afternoon.