Italian Train Schedules for Dummies

We enjoyed our night at Vilma's Bed and Breakfast in Sirmione, and made friends with her dog, Spritz. The 23 mile route for today was very direct, on busier roads, and therefore...yawn...not very scenic.  We wanted to get to Verona before noon because we were pretty sure that the train tickets we had secured online were not going to allow bicycles.  There was a steady flow of traffic, and the shoulder varied from a foot to five feet.  The Italian drivers are very good when it comes to cyclists.  Pete had told us they are required to give cyclists 3.5m when they pass.  I have not felt unsafe, period.  That said, when we approached Verona, I pulled a "deer in the headlights" move and took the second exit.  It "seemed" right, but actually took us on a busy road towards the airport (think hwy 14).  We got off at the first exit, took a deep breath, and asked the Garmin (I was thinking he ought to meet Siri) to take us to the train station.  15 minutes later we were at Verona Nuova and I went in to talk with an agent while Patty stayed with the bikes.

The line was long...at least 30 people and I noticed the ticket agents weren't exactly exuding sunshine. When it was my turn, I smiled and said "Buon Giorno".  And then, in halting Italian, I asked him if bicycles were permissible on the train I had tickets for.  "No".  I told him I would then need to buy two tickets, for me and my friend, and two tickets for the bikes...Verona to Florence.  He showed me his computer screen, I think I nodded, and gave him 40 euros.  I confirmed the departure time and the platform on which the train departed.  Phew...that wasn't so bad!  I was pretty proud of myself...smug, even.  I went back and showed Patty the tickets, smiling.  "What time does it get into Florence?" she asked.  "Uhhhh, I didn't ask".  She looked at the ticket.  "So, do we change trains in Bologna?" she asked.  "I'm not sure," I replied.

We took our bikes to the track where the train departed and discussed our strategy.  We could ask a train official as soon as we got off in Bologna.  We could even ask someone on the train.  I vaguely remembered his screen showing a 3:50 arrival in Florence.  Surely someone would know.  How hard could it be?

Pretty.Darn.Hard.  To start with, in all of the commotion of getting our tickets and then finding the correct track, we forgot to validate our tickets.  BIG no-no.  We could have been fined 50 euros.  The conductor overlooked our error...this time, but we decided he was probably not the one we should ask for help about our connection.  When we got off the train in Bologna, I stayed with the bikes and Patty went to find out about our connection to Florence.  She looked at the Arrival/Departure board...nothing seemed to fit.  So, she went into the station to talk to an agent.  When she came back, she said we needed the train to Prato where we would have to change trains again.  Really?  Where is that on my ticket?  Why didn't the ticket agent with the winsome personality at Verona tell me this?  All I could do was laugh.

We found the train to Prato, made the connection and landed in Florence around 5pm.  At some point, I'd like to read about the construction of the tunnels on the route from Prato to Florence.  The Italians are master tunnel makers and one that we went through had to have been 2 or 3 miles long.

Florence is a busy place, but we had good directions and made our way to Fabio's place with no trouble.  He has an interesting art collection and though he lives in the heart of the city, he has a beautiful garden where we will have breakfast in the morning.  We will be here for four nights.  It's nice to relax and not have to pack our stuff everyday.

We showered, then walked a short ways and had dinner.  We shared a couple of dishes...Sicilian bread with roasted vegetables and Burra cheese, ravioli stuffed with spinach, butter and sage.  And then...gelato.  I had fig and cream, Patty had cherry and pear.  

Tomorrow will be very special.  My son, Jeremy, and grandsons Jackson and Jordan will meet us at the Duomo to see the sights of this beautiful city.

Where Patty Finds Herself an Italian Boyfriend

We left Javed's place before 7 because even though we only had about 15 miles to ride, we wanted to get our tickets for the 9:20 ferry and visit a bike shop in Riva.  The north end of Lake Garda is the mountain bicycling Mecca of Europe and we saw as many mountain bikes as we did road bikes.  I did not route us on the bike path, but instead used roadways and at one point we went through a long tunnel...over a mile in length.  It was well lit and there was very little traffic, but your heart definitely begins to race when a car comes up from behind.  The noise is similar to a freight train bearing down on you.

Having skipped breakfast, we stopped at a little roadside stand for a cappuccino.  Big mistake...it was awful.  However...as per Patty's Oreo Theory, there was a wonderful fruit stand next door and I bought a kilo of cherries that were beautiful.  We pressed on, climbing to the top of Passo San Giovanni and then we had a most amazing downhill into Lake Garda.  

I need to digress here.  While we were at the roadside coffee stand, Patty met an Italian cyclist.  He was very interested in her bike and where she had ridden.  I wanted a picture, but I didn't want to be too brazen about taking it and I was stifling an outburst of laughter.  It's a little fuzzy but I think you get the idea, and yes, that IS a cigarette in his mouth.  I need help coming up with a name for him...Luciano?  Emilio?  Riccardo?

It took longer than we thought to find the ferry.  There are dozens of private companies that provide transportation of some kind on this lake, so we had to ask a couple of people where the ferry to Sirmione was. Again...they did not speak English, and though our Italian is getting a little better, the exchange tends to be a lot like a game of charades.  We bought our tickets and tickets for the bikes for a little more than 17 euros.  Oh, and the ferry started boarding five minutes later.

We met a couple from Germany who have been biking in this area and are now heading back to their home in Stuttgart.  They have been to the United States seven times to places like the Pacific Northwest, California, the Midwest.  I had to smile.  Most of the Italians we have talked to who have been to the United States have gone to New York.  Sad.  We are encouraging them to come to the Pacific Northwest.  

The ferry trip was the milk run, but we thoroughly enjoyed stopping at the towns along the lake.  Ernest Hemingway loved this area and nearby Lago Maggiore was made famous in his A Farewell to Arms.  Just before we got to Sirmione, the ferry passed a castle called Scaliger Castle.  "It represents the typical Ghibelline swallowtail merlons and the curtain-walls (with three corner towers) in pebbles alternating with two horizontal bands of brick courses." (Wikipedia). Ummmm, yeah, what he said.

We thought we had dodged a bullet weather-wise.  It started to rain about halfway through our ferry ride, but quit (I'm not kidding) about ten minutes before we disembarked.  Sirmione is at the north end of a narrow peninsula on the south end of Lago di Garda and it is one. big. tourist. trap.  We managed to get through the crowds and rode south until we found a nice place for lunch.  There was a string of 40 or 50 cars going north...my condolences.

Our waiter at lunch also flirted with Patty.  He was making jokes, smiling, refilling her wine glass.  But...the best thing he did was tell us about a bike shop called Il Ciclista.  We rode there and found some great Sirmione jerseys...they have the Italian flag colors on the sleeve and say La Perla del Lago Garda on the back.  We agree.  I hate to admit it to all of you, but it was now raining steadily, warm, wet rain.  We found our B&B without too much trouble, put the bikes under cover, and enjoyed the rest of our Teroldego.

Tomorrow we head towards Verona, where Patty can say, "Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?"

Winding Our Way Down the Adige

We have loved staying with Tiziana and her husband.  She is delightful, eager to share her knowledge of the area, generous with her cherry preserves, her homemade yogurt, her Lucanica sausage.  She gave us a bottle of the wine her father made...the wine made from the Teroldego grapes.  The extra weight in my pannier..."it weel be nothing".  If you are ever near Mezzolombardo, a stay with them will be a memorable experience.

Mezzolombardo is the city of wine...and we have been surrounded by Pinot Grigio and Terolego vineyards.  The bike path winds around the rows of grapes which are trained in a sort of Y formation on the trellis.

We had a short day of riding...just 32 miles and whoa...we got rained on...about a dozen drops. ;). We arrived in Trento before noon and had the pleasure of touring the Castelli Bounsiglio.  Tiziana was able to get us complimentary tickets and we could add a tour of the frescoes, which we did.  The castle was constructed in the 13th century and home to several bishop-princes, notably George of Leichenstein.  The frescoes were fascinating, painted by an unknown artist, probably Bohemian.  In the frescoes, the nobles were larger in perspective than the peasants, and oftentimes, the scenes between the two groups were separated by a depiction of something like a fence, or bridge, or wall.  There were 11 frescoes, one for each month of the year...only March was missing, lost in a fire.  No apologies for the number of pictures here...we found scenes worthy around every bend, down every hallway.

We pressed on towards Brancolino and even with 4 or 5 miles of hard packed gravel south of Trento we would tell you we love this bike path.  It reminds me of the Katy Trail in Missouri or the C&O Canal Path between Cumberland, Maryland and Washington D.C.  We had no trouble finding Javed's place and have happily showered and had dinner.  Patty had a Spritz for lunch...I had one for dinner.  They are an aperitif that Italians love made from Prosecco, a liqueur called Aperol, soda water, and then garnished with a slice of orange.  It doesn't hurt that they also fill the glass with ice.  Man, I miss ice.  We have watched Italians order these wonderful wood fired pizzas and consume an entire pizza.  And tonight, I had no problem doing that as well.

Towers, Tunnels, and Trying My Patience

We would have liked to have met Moritz' family, but they were busy, and we were busy, and unfortunately it did not work out.  Thanks for your kindness in allowing us to stay at your place.

We left Brixen around 8 after a cup of coffee and something from the bakery...I'm not going to say what...suffice it to say that I NEEDED to ride 50+ miles today.

We loved the bike path.  It was well maintained, had a good surface, and allowed us to enjoy the riding without having to worry too much about whether or not we were headed in the right direction. 

We were in Bolzano before noon and stopped just south of town to have a picnic lunch by the river.  Yes, all of the pictures have sunshine...that's because the 60% chance of rain never showed up.

We rode through a series of tunnels and that was fun...reminded us of the Mosier Tunnels near Hood River.  Several were long enough, and dark enough to warrant a light.

We also passed several castles.  One was the castle Trostburg in Ponte Gardena.  I understand there is a mural of the family tree that is quite impressive...many of the towns have towers in the center square with clocks that chime.  I love that.

We passed a section of the trail that has featured some local art.  Some of it is from grade school children, and some is from artists who are simply showcasing their work.

We didn't QUITE have complete directions to our airB&B place for the night, but we knew the town, the street, and the general direction.  In fact, I had plugged the address into Google Maps on the iPad and it gave me a pretty good route, so we opted to get off the bike path a little early and onto the rural roads.  Mezzocoronado and Mezzolombardo are wine growing regions.  We climbed and descended, climbed and descended and finally came to Mezzolombardo.  Sigh.  We were on a busy street that was not marked with any signage and we hadn't seen a sign on this particular road for miles.  None of the marked sidestreets I could see from the intersection where we were, remotely matched anything on the iPad.  I was thirsty and tired of riding, so I went into a supermarket to buy something cold to drink (they didn't have anything cold to drink).  When I came out, Patty had done something very smart.  She had looked at the iPad where our destination was, seen the hospital marked, and punched the name of the hospital into her GPS.  We were less than .2 of a mile from the hospital, less than .5 from our B&B.  It STILL took awhile, because when there are few street signs, you just have to wing it, but we are here and it is wonderful.  

Our host speaks English because she spent some time in London, and her youngest daughter is there now doing the same thing.  She is encouraging her children to see the world even though family is very important to her.  We had a glass of wine with her and her husband, and also speck, which is like prosciutto on steroids.  The wine was made by her father and I liked it a lot.  Made from Teroldego grapes, it is a red wine that is only grown in this area.  We asked her to recommend a ristorante for us and she sent us to a place that serves a dish native to this area.  It is like a large patty of hash browns, that you eat with prosciutto, cheese, onions, beans, and cabbage.  Patty and I shared that entre and a salad and couldn't finish either.

Tomorrow will be a shorter day of riding for us, and we hope to visit a couple of museums in Trento before ending the day in Brancolino.  I hope I can find it.

Back in the Saddle Again

I didn't sleep very well last night...the Albergo we stayed at was very nice and the linens were starched crisp and white, but I couldn't seem to get comfortable.  The Germans have this thick rectangular quilt that they snuggle in at night, which I think would be terrific in the winter...but I had a hard time deciding whether I wanted to sleep on top of it, or cover up with it.

We made a phone call to our Warm Showers Host right after breakfast to get directions and see if we could leave our bags at his house.  The answers were yes and yes.  Fortunately, he and his wife only lived a few kilometers away from where we were staying and we were there by 8:30.  With all of the bags off the bike, and a map in hand that Moritz gave us, we headed north towards Stertzing.  The bike path (Radweg) is well marked and we enjoyed it despite some gravel sections and one section that was undergoing some repair.  There aren't many services between Brixen and Stertzing and we saw about twice as many mountain bikes as road bikes. There are some steep sections...we saw signs that said 12%, 15%, and 17%.  And you can probably tell from the pictures that is was a gorgeous day...sunny with a chance of freckles.

We stopped in Stertzing for some lunch.  The menu was varied and we thought pasta would do nicely. Spaghetti with aglio and olio...sounded yummy, but what exactly WAS aglio?  Our server went into a hilarious pantomime...first she huffed, breathing out hard like a dog panting.  Then she held her nose.   Ohhhh...cheese?  Limburger cheese?  No.  Strong, she said.  Like spicy, we asked?  No.  Vamparra.  Finally, and I mean to tell you we were so dense we didn't get it for a full three or four minutes, we figured out aglio was garlic.  Vamparra=vampires.  Sold...we'll have two plates.  

We kept riding until we hit 30 miles, about 3000' of gain, and started a long descent.  Because we were on the bike path, we didn't see a sign that said Brenner Pass, and Moritz had told us that the town of Brenner was very busy with traffic.  We would have liked bragging rights and to have been able to stand with one foot in Austria and the other foot in Italy, but we were both very satisfied with the day's ride and headed back towards Brixen.  I will put riding a Col, or Pass on my list of things that I need to come back to do.

We stopped in Sterzing again and I ordered some gelato.  Patty asked the German woman for an iced coffee.  Here's a pic of her iced coffee...nothing at all like the ones she has ordered in the States, but pretty yummy.

We got back to our room around 5, showered and watched the US/Germany soccer match.  Did I see where they get to advance to the next round?  Das ist wünderbar!

There seems to be more German spoken here than Italian.  We ate dinner at a restaurant that had a German menu (and a biergarten) and our waiter told us his favorite item was the Grillteller...so, that's what we had.  Turkey, beef steak, and veal, the latter being the third new meat for me on this trip.  tomorrow we head south to Mezzolombardo and I could tell you that the forecast is calling for a 60% chance of rain, but you would just laugh at me, wouldn't you?

We Bid a Fond Farewell to the Dolomiti

Today was our last day in the Dolomites with Pete and Shirleen.  We have so enjoyed our time with them...they have proven the best of friends; housing us, feeding us, driving us, and entertaining us with great stories.  Thank you from the bottom of our hearts.

We left the Rifugio Fadaia in heavy clouds and fog.  It was drizzling and the forecast did not look good.  I felt sorry for the motorcyclists we saw and was oh so happy to be in a car and not on the bike.  We drove towards Canazei, past the Marmolada which is the largest glacier in the Dolomites, which was enshrouded in clouds.  I would have loved to have seen it against a blue sky, but here's my take on that. When you travel, you always need to leave something undone, something unseen, something for which to come again.  We saw so many hiking trails, some with Via Ferrata at the higher elevations, and I'd like to come back some day and spend a couple of weeks hiking here.

We continued on over Passo Sella at 2213m and the weather cleared just a bit so that we could see the Sella group.  Stunning.  All along we saw cyclists, grinding their way up to the passes, flying down to the valleys beneath.  We also stopped at the Val Gardena where Pete and Shirleen did something very special for us...they gave us each at small pin...a hiking pin with the pass and elevation on it.  Something to cherish.

We wound our way down and out of the Dolomites, but we were still in rolling green hills, the foothills of the Alps between Italy and Austria, really.  We saw fortresses that were built during World War I and picturesque villages that had churches with tall steeples that were roofed in red shingles.  So beautiful. We are in a small town called Vahrn, which is just north of Bressanone or Brixen.  Actually, villages or cities in this area are written in three languages, one in Italian, one in German, and one in Ladin.  

In the morning, we are hoping to drop off our panniers at our Warm Showers hosts in Brixen and then turn around and pedal up to Brenner Pass.  It is about 30 miles up and I'm not sure about the elevation gain, but we will give it our best try.  Right now, we are watching a little World Cup, France and Ecuador.

I am more than a little frustrated because I cannot seem to send pics from my phone to the iPad.  I am not sure what I am doing wrong and am hoping to have a little time tomorrow night to sort it out.  Lights out, dear readers.