Oh beautiful, for spacious skies...

We said our goodbyes to Fabio and headed south on his narrow, one way street.  The past few days, as we have walked into Florence, we have seen buses on this street and there is no room...I mean none...between the bus and the sidewalk.  I would have loved a picture of a bus bearing down on a cyclist.  People riding bikes seem pretty nonchalant, and I realize that is easier when you are not loaded, not watching for street signs, but we did just fine.  The weather was supposed to soar into the 90's and we wanted to get to San Gimignano before late afternoon.  It was only 50 kilometers...a piece of cake, really, until you add the elevation gain and the panniers.

My cue sheet was three half pages long...ridiculously long.  At Tavarnuzze, I took a wrong turn and we started climbing, climbing, climbing.  It's one thing to do all of that work if you are on the right road, but if you are on the wrong road?  Momma Mia!  I looked at the Google map route and thought I could take a short cut to get us back on route.  We rode into this apartment-like neighborhood and two Italian men came out to find out what on earth we were doing.  We spoke with our limited Italian and the map (carte) and they spoke with their limited English.  And then...they argued...in Italian, of course, but it was clear that they did not agree on what we should do.  I was having flashbacks to the woman in the AgriTourismo in Porto Tolle.  We were concentrating on what they were saying, but their gestures said steep hills and their faces said "you are crazy".  They walked with us a short ways, pointing in the direction of the road we wanted, and we descended down a narrow, steep alley, waving and yelling "Molto grazie!". Now here's the amazing thing...as we rode, it became clear to us what they had said...4 or 5 kilometers, don't turn right, direzione of San Casiano in Val di Pesa, in salita.

We passed a cemetery south of Tavarnuzze that we wondered if Shirleen had managed...and then we started to climb.  The grade was pretty brutal, but the nice thing about hills is that eventually you get to the top.  And, because whatever goes up must also come down, we did, and it was glorious.  We started seeing olive groves and wineries neatly laid out on the hillsides.

We rode through Tavarnelle, fully expecting to be able to fill our water bottles, but the single pizzeria we saw was closed.  Blast.  We saw another cyclist at an intersection and found out he was from Lousiana.  He had come from the direction we were headed and assured us there were services, so we drank the last of our water.  Sure enough, about 3 km down the road in Barberina Val Delsa, there was a ristorante called Bustecca.  Before I could park my bike and sit down at a table, the waitress Carla had a cold bottle of frizzante at our table, bless her heart.  Patty ordered bruschetta and white beans with tomato, olive oil and sage, I had crostini with spreads of mushroom, tomato, and pâté, and a salad.  It was a wonderful lunch and Carla gave us some good information about the rest of our route to San Gimignano.  We had several people ask us where we were riding from...and the reactions, the raised eyebrows, made us chuckle.

It was a long, hot slog to Casa del Poggio.  32 miles...3400' of gain for the day.  Marco and his wife Margherita run this B&B but the house and farm have been in the family since the 17th century.  Marco showed us around the grounds with Luigi, their friendly dog.  Our view of San Gimignano is amazing, and we walked into town and ate at an osteria that Margarite suggested.  Patty had rabbit with olives from this area, I had ricotta and spinach balls with truffle.  Amazingly, we both had room for gelato, then retraced our steps to the B&B with some difficulty (Do you remember this house? Did the road merge with a larger road)?  We're watching Brazil/Colombia, but tomorrow, TDF will have our full attention.  Happy 4th of July, dear friends.