Following the 2001 Giro d’Italia
By Barbara Barrett
Awesome. I just returned from my second cycling adventure in Italy, where I followed the final 5 stages of the Giro d’Italia, while being exposed to a whole new dimension of cycling. Having visited Italy a gazillion times since the age of 15, this was the icing on the cake.
The trip covered 420 miles and 38,000 vertical climbing feet in 7 spectacular riding days. I am still debating whether the wine really had a neutralizing (or just a numbing) effect on the lactic acid burn, or whether this is just another fantastic Italian myth…so characteristic of this beloved, whimsical, passionate culture. I am passionately pooped and in love with Italy to the point of explosion.
This was my second cycling tour with the finest Italian bike touring company in the business, Ciclismo Classico. In 1996 I participated in their cross-country "Bike Across Italy" tour, got addicted, and
after 5 years, was able to escape back to my beloved country, this time to follow the most spectacular race in the world.
The tour guides were phenomenal, all Italian natives and knew every inch of road, history, culture, and of course were technically well-heeled on Italian racing history and heros. Each evening, over a spectacular dinner, they updated us on the status of that day’s race results. Each morning, we departed from a different villa or farmhouse and we cycled to the site of the race. We then rode the key portions of the actual race course before the racers arrived. After hours of intense climbing, we would arrive at the summit (or for the flat courses, at the starting line) before watching the racers pass through. What a blast! Then we would follow the racers down the mountain where we feasted among the crowds, and in two cases, saw the racers again, at the end of their final lap.
After joining the post-race festivities, we would spin back to the van at a chatting speed, where we would then be shuttled to another village for next day’s race stage. An abundant dinner feast would follow after arriving at our next hotel, which was either perched on a hill surrounded by vineyards as in Alba, or situated on a scenic mountain lake at Orta, or on the edge of the Mediterranean, as in San Remo. We cycled through Piemonte, Lombardia and Liguria.
Each morning as we cycled towards the next stage race, we were joined by swarms of Italian cycling clubs who came from all over Italy to join the excitement. Each club proudly adorned their local club jersey. Before long, the streets were packed with vast numbers of cyclists headed for the race. The streets were closed to motorized traffic, and I was surrounded by one immense mass of cyclists, riding wheel to wheel, shoulder to shoulder, constantly engaged with them in animated conversation. It seemed as though all of Italy was there!
It was at this time that I realized that Italian men account for over 99% of Italian cyclists. Their delightful enthusiasm reflects a passion for life that is echoed in their pretentiously vibrant lycra...and they are tickled pink by the sight of a female cyclist, especially “una ciclista americana”. It was amusing to be constantly approached by their animated, colorful conversation.
The sheer volume and the fanaticism of the Italian "tifosi" created an emotionally exciting environment. They emitted a passion and exhilaration that pervaded the atmosphere for miles and miles before and throughout the racecourse. I believe this passion is unique to the overall Italian cycling culture. Riding with tens of thousands of Italian cyclists as we approached the site of the races was indeed a heady experience.
For a few of the stages, I was adorning my New York Cycle Club jersey, (which has a graphic of the Statue of Liberty wearing a bicycle helmet), and I got hundreds of offers by Italian cyclists to buy it off my back! I could have made a mint if I had brought a truckload with me!
The wicked climbs ranged from 9-17% gradients, mile after brutal mile. I didn’t realize JUST how steep the uphills were until it was time to descend, at which time I instantly acquired a new-founded fear of heights. The sensational downhills were a rush, but the steeper descents were terrifying. My hands ached as I constantly feathered the brakes for dear life. At times I had to slow down (which was more difficult than it sounds) and stop before a hairpin turn because the speed was so fast, the turns so sharp, and the gradient was just too steep to accomplish the turn without cycling straight off a cliff. I couldn’t believe that I had really climbed these gradients uphill and was thankful to still be alive after reaching the bottom. To think that these racers can take such acute downhill turns at speeds over 60 mph. is simply mind-boggling.
Besides the hordes of cyclists, there was an endless string of parties occurring along the sides of the roads, Italian families camping out, cooking by their tents, the sounds of singing and music all along the way. The people on the sidelines cheered us along the road with a contagious enthusiasm, as though WE were the pros, yelling “Forza, bella donna.. forza. Ale' ale'"! Many of them pleaded with us to stop riding to join their lavish food feasts!! I couldn't resist getting off my bike to join their parties several times along the way. I ate their polenta, drank their wine, utterly amused by the fuss they made over me. When I finally reached the summit of Passo Colle Fauniera, (the highest pass of the Giro) I went to drink from my water bottle, only to have a good laugh...the Italian group from the last party had filled my water bottle with wine while I wasn't looking!!!!!
I could go on and on...another few great highlights of the trip: On Day 1 we cycled to the hometown museum of Italy’s cycling legend, Fausto Coppi, where we viewed his old winning jerseys and touched pieces of cement from the finish lines of the roads of his famous winning races. On the evening of Day 1, I saw Eddie Merckz coming out of my hotel’s elevator...what a blast! On Day 2 we rode with a local Italian racing team, visited a world-cup mechanic for a bike-fitting clinic, and tasted samples produced by a family-run pecorino farm. On Day 4 we heard about the “doping” scandal involving Dario Frigo, and then the cancellation of the next day’s race, which didn’t stop the partying or riding for us, and 250,000 others. And on Day 7, before the Milan-San Remo stage, I stood outside the Lampre-Daikin van, waiting for Gilberto Simoni to appear. It was worth the wait!!! I was rewarded by being the first one to see him come out, and photographed him before the swarms of reporters and crazy tifosi descended upon him as they tried to touch him or get his autograph. Another outstanding “rush” was to see Mario Cipollini as he sprinted across the finish line of the same stage, right in front of my eyes.
Besides the challenging rides with spectacular Italian landscapes surrounding us, we stayed in luscious villas, each of which was an idyllic Italian treasure...and the fine dining, the abundance of great food, the wine tastings, and a gregarious group all contributed to a truly world-class experience.
I am back in New York City, looking out my window at the Statue of Liberty. I can see tourists walking along the parapet of its crown. I can't believe I was that only two days ago I was in another world, watching Gilberto Simoni winning the Maglia Rosa. I can't wait to go back. My heart is back in Italy. It was an experience that every cycling fan should encounter at least once in their lifetime.
