This southern central part of the country isn’t mountainous, but the hills come bright cymbal crashes to our tired legs again and again.

This southern central part of the country isn’t mountainous, but the hills come bright cymbal crashes to our tired legs again and again.
Today a second in Italy’s yellow argent temps, tracks through apricots or peaches, morning roadies “ciao!”, seems at every town we stop to fill up at the spigot or fountain.
Unmistakably Italy, the hilltops in every distance with a villa, spruce lined approaches, groves.
A day with an end where you recall it and it doesn’t seem as if it could have been just one.
Tiny gravel roads, sometimes one paved lane, single track double track, paths through crushed riverside rock. The plan is a nine day circuit round this half of the country, toes across the Austrian border and then later a thirty hours in Italy before crossing over again.
Back to rental shop. Doesn’t quite fit, nothing on it is what I would have chosen, too small wheels, wrong tire tread, brakes grab, seatpin quick release slips. But pedal away these pointless stupid flickers, […]
Board at 17:30, muse at clouds below, review conference notes, fast forward through scenes of an in flight movie. Dinner. Blink into Brussels morning, East coast to Europe is precisely timed to skip the sleep […]