Euro Diary Week 4 (or 5, I forget now)
‘Just below the Zone'
Our Tour de France reconnaissance has been completed, with in-laws in tow. I have contemplated, during this time, how best to explain the gulf between in-laws and your own kin. Here is my example. It's the difference ‘tweenst making banter with your father in law next to you at the urinal, as with your own dad.

FYI: Mother in law in French is ‘La Belle Mere', the beautiful mother. In Italian it is ‘suocera' pronounced ‘swatchera', which sounds almost evil to me. At some point in the evolution of latin the path split, France down one road, Italy the other.

Enough on in-laws, there is a bike race starting this week (the Giro d'Italia for those coming in late), and I guess you are all hoping for me to write something witty. Alas, I fear I peaked too early with my paragraph on Vladimir last week, see below. That could have been the high point of the season, and I hit it early. You could hold on grimly, hoping I'll peak again by September, but I'm not in the business of handing out false hope. Every athlete knows that you cannot peak twice in the same season. Which allows me a neat segue to Cadel. I note many of my colleagues are cracking a huge stiffy for him, for this year's TdF.

I'm not.

Cadel's preparation this year is all about the TdF. He started his season later, skipping Australia's TDU in Jan, waiting until Tirreno-Adriatico in March to kick start his season, which he won. Following it later with a win this past weekend in Switzerland's Tour of Romandie. Both good, short, climbing stage races. He is now skipping the 3 week Giro, placing his focus on being race fit and fresh, come July, and he is certainly looking on track.

I am a Cadel fan, I'm not his biggest fan, I'll leave that to @chiarapasserini his wife, you can follow her on twitter, she's lovely. (you can follow me too, while you're at it @DavidOLLE). But I have been privy to nearly all of his big races, as my involvement in mountainbiking was in sync with his. At a race in Pakenham in about '94, after calling him to the startline, along with all the other young grommets, I started the race without him. He turned up 5 minutes later, after doing a practice lap and asked where his race was. I answered it was up the track, 'twas due to start at 10.00, and it did.

While there wouldn't be anyone starting races without him these days, I'll bet he's never been late to the start line since.

His coach through those years, Damian Grundy, is a good friend of mine, and while I thought Cadel looked more than a promising kid, I never thought he'd be a world-beater (Damian, however, thought different). For most of the nineties while Damian and I worked side by side at world champs, as manager and coach of the national MTB team, Cadel proved me right, picking up bronze after silver medals to add to his un-trumpeted collection thrown into the bottom draw. While Cadel could ride consistently all season, earning enough points to take odd wins and the overall world cup, Damian's lament was that he could never get him to ‘spike up' for the big races. Wins at the MTB world champs, and Olympics, were never to be Cadel's. Somewhere along this timeline I may have wondered about Cadel making a good ‘Grand Tour' rider, but I'm not sure. While he dabbled in the odd road race, I was still surprised when he turned to the road full time in 2002.

I'd been operating Topbike Tours for five years when Helen rang and asked who ran tours to the Giro, as her boy was racing and along with her, her mum and her partner wanted to see Cadel's debut in a grand tour. Along with a a few other skips, his Gran and I stood desolated roadside on his day in pink, on ‘Passo Coe',while he crept past, still in pink, but out of the lead. He was grey when he wobbled past us, two faithful Mapei lieutenants by his side. It was a grim introduction to the Giro for all of us.

I could bang on about Cadel for another few pages, but in the interests of brevity I'll stop now and make a claim. There is no one in the world who has stood trackside for as many of Cadel's big races as myself. I have first hand witnessed more of his career than anyone, even his mum. No one else has had the opportunity.

Now, back to the 2011 TdF and Cadel. Can he win it? For sure he's capable, but I don't care. When he won road World Champs back in 2009 I was blown away. I would have backed him to win 8 Tours de France in a row before I'd put money on him to win the biggest one day road race of the year. I don't care what he achieves now, winning that race is enough for me. He backed himself into it and he won it. He's a champion in my mind, TdF win, or not. I know he won't feel complete, but I do.

But WILL he win it David, you ask? My point I oft reiterate about Lance's seven TdF wins, is about luck. Yes, you must do all the preparation, training, reconnaissance, etc. and this is where Lance was impeccable, but the luck still has to go your way. In 2003 Lance won the TdF after crashing 3 times (you all remember the girl with the floating musette in the Pyrenees?) in that same year Cadel crashed three times and broke his collarbone three times. In 1999 (ten years before his big win) at MTB world champs in the mud of Åre, Sweden, Cadel was in the lead for most of the race, and we knew he'd finally won his title, but was t-boned off the course by the eventual winner, almost within site of the finish. Another silver for the bottom draw.

Don't get me wrong, you don't win races by luck alone, but you can sure lose them that way.

Let's all hope the luck is on Cadel's side, come July.

PS For your next trivia quiz night, remember Cadel has already won the Tour de France. The last official Mountainbike TdF, in 2000. Conducted by ASO, the same organisation company of the road TdF.

Daily emails from the Giro (and it's environs) coming your way starting this Saturday,

DO.

Euro diary, week 3, 2011                                                                                                The final curtain for Vladimir?                                                                                   Friday afternoon, last, MBW and I decided to ride up to the Rifugio we had visited last Saturday, enjoy dinner by the open fire and spend the night in the dormitory accommodation.  We're thinking of doing the same with a group in August, so we thought a little reccy might be in order.  The weather has turned this week, and it is now cold, with the maximum not getting over 15'.  We have also moved into our new digs, and while all the tradies have done a fine job, the kitchen we ordered has not arrived, so no cooking at home presently.  No gas either, meaning no hot water or heating.                                                                                                                                                                                                     MBW has a health condition at present that means her heartrate can't go over 140bpm, so she set off well before me, for the 1000m ascent.  As I rode along alone, I considered the latest drug scandal, and it's impact on Vladimir Karpets, him being  involved in the Mantova pharmacy investigation (along with many other sports people, not just cyclists).    For years in our house, when getting in a tidying up type of mode, which doesn't happen all that often, we've always said ‘it's time to vacuum the Vladimirs'.  He has become an iconic figure in our lives, made even more so by a bizarre interview ‘our' Annabelle did with the long haired lanky man at last year's Giro.  In English he agreed to be interviewed in Italian, then answered every question in Spanish...this from a Russian.  And a very handsome Russian at that.  Nevertheless, he's been around for a while, and at 32 is in the twilight of his career.  If he gets pinged with a 2 year suspension in this investigation, I fear, it could be curtains for Karpets.   (ba-boom-tish)                                                                                                  It started raining not long into my ride, along with the occasional sprinklings of hail, but I remained content, as I was climbing.  The thought of the open fire in the rifugio kept me warm too, and I was happy as I pedalled.  Very quickly it was under an hour to go, and all uphill, so no need to worry about the cold.  Occasionally my back wheel slipped on the steep grade, but mostly I kept going forward, and upward.  As I reached the rifugio, all was calm and peaceful.  Very peaceful.  Alarmingly peaceful, in fact.  There was no one moving, not even a mouse.  As I approached the closed door, I noticed two words written in chalk ‘Oggi Chiuso' (closed today).                  Now, I know what a tantrum is, so I don't think that would be a fair description of the way I handled the situation.  While I may have stamped a foot, or two, I definitely did not kick any pot plants.  Probably more akin to an internal combustion engine, valve bouncing, or something like that.  IT WAS ONLY 6 DAYS EARLIER THEY HAD TOLD US THEY WERE OPEN EVERY DAY!                                                                                    Anyway, it was very quickly, literally, time to move on.  Close to 7pm, light was fading, it was only 1' above zero, we were wet and cold, and without proper lights for our bikes.  We were also a long way from home, which was without heating, and we needed some fast.  As we had planned to descend the next morning, we didn't have enough clothes for a cold descent.  There was a lone pizzeria halfway down the hill, the only sign of life we'd seen on the ascent, we gritted our teeth on the rough roads, and stopped and asked for a room, teeth chattering, but the answer wasn't pleasing.    Further down, while our hands were seizing up, gripping the levers in the chill wind, we knew there to be an agriturismo, slightly off the track.  We pushed the bell at the locked gate, to mute response.  It was now close to 8pm  and nearly dark.  We opted for riding up the lake to Vello, where we had spotted a B & B sign in a restaurant, days earlier.                                                                                                 Finishing the descent we turned right and covered the distance along the lake pretty smartly, trying to get some heat back into our bones.   Vello was quiet, as it almost always is, but lights were on in the ristorante.  We asked about the B & B and after a quick phone call and a 2 minute walk, we were welcomed into a family home.  A warm family home, with a lovely pink bathroom and a deep pink bath.                     Later in the warmth of the ristorante, as I forked half a grilled prawn, wrapped in pancetta, and dripping with a gorgonzola sauce, into my gob, I exchanged looks with MBW, and began to giggle.                                                                                                                               DO.

If I was a good writer and had a publisher, you wouldn't be getting the next paragraph as truthfully as this.  For the past week and a half we have been carrying out a rough renovation on our very rough apartment.  The local plumber and muratore (stonemason) both turned up early, the electrician the same, the Pakistani painters started the night we agreed to use them (they do live in the same building) and our hosts where we are staying in ‘Villa Serioli' not only co-ordinated the tradies but took us out for dinner just to ask the foreigners what they needed to do, to improve their business.   

The consequences of this are, our place is no longer so rough, and our first service industry consultancy fee received was Spaghetti  Vongole (pippies).  So, no stories here like ‘Under the Tuscan Sun' where a book is filled with trials and tribulations of a villa's renovation, ours is running like silk!  Incidentally, if you do want a good read on this subject, and I mean a good read, find a copy, of the travel writer, Eric Newby's story on a reno he carried out, circa 1968.  The title escapes me now*, but years before Peter Mayle arrived in Provence, Eric met and married a guestworker while hiding in the Apennines during WW2, and later returned to renovate a house in Tuscany with her.  I think it is the original on the subject, and if not, it's a lovely read, time truly well spent.

Bike riding:  We've done a bit lately, surprisingly so, as I truly expected to be doing the painting myself.  But when the opportunity arose to exploit the local migrant labour, we ended up with time (instead of paint) on our hands.  Last week saw us climb Monte Campione, the base of which is 20k up the road from Marone.  Probably one of Pantani's last triumphs, he belted Tonkov up there in 1998's Giro, sealing the win.  Two months later he belted Ulrich in Le Tour, completing the Giro/tour double.  No doubt Pantani was ‘top-fuelling' at the time, he set a record the year before up to Alpe d'Huez that still stands to this day.  Unfortunately he doesn't still ride (or even stand) as he sadly passed away in an untimely fashion in 2003.

On the weekend we carried out some Giro d'Italia reconnaissance, checking stage 20's strade bianche (unmade road) climb, Colle delle Finestre.  Paolo Salvodelli secured his second Giro win on this mountain back in 2006.  Paolo was mostly remarkable for one talent, he could beat all comers, on any descent.  Earning the nickname ‘Il Falco' (the Falcon), he did it consistently.  He's impressive, no matter what you think about drugs in cycling, if there's a drug for sale that can keep you upright on 700c wheels, at breakneck speed, down twisting mountain roads, I'm buying. 

Unfortunately Paolo's also a bit of an ‘ice man', I've seen him atop of the dais in Milano, 2 Giro wins, and not once a smile, never.   I don't envy his wife, trying to keep him happy, if winning Italy's biggest race twice, doesn't cut it.   

On Colle delle Finestre, early Sunday morning, with the road closed to cars, and only the names of past cycling legends fading on the road for company, in crisp, still air, we pedalled to the snowline at 1600 metres.  Bliss really.

While we only covered 1.5k of the strade bianche before hitting the snow, it was traditional unmade road, as we most know it.  Not rough-poured concrete like what was used on the time trial up Plan de Corones in last year's giro.  You would not get far descending on this surface, before puncturing.  It is truly rough.  (Ride detail here...)

The title, or part of one of the titles, of this report is 22k.  Not much of a distance to ride, is it?  But if we leave our current digs, and turn left, in eleven kilometres you can climb 1,000 metres, up to a Rifugio, 'Croce di Marone'.  Quite efficient really, even more so if you consider you can buy a 3 course meal at the refuge, or at the very least, 2 coffees, 2 italian kitkats and one grappa, as we did.  Alternately you can turn right, keep Lake Iseo to your left and complete a 60k lap. (See uphill ride detail here...)

‘Just below the Zone'?  Our base is in ‘Marone', and up the hill, about 6k is 'Zone', our train station is called Zone-Marone.  To pronounce this properly, in the phonetically Italian way, pretend there is a ‘Y' on the end of each word.  That's right, you've got it.  Just like ‘Boney Maroney' only with a ‘Z'.  (Now you'll never forget where we live).

And 60 paces?  That's how many I have to make from my bed to the bar, next door, each morning, to order MBW's latte macchiato, my two cafe machiati, two freshly squeezed OJ's and two brioche, senza niente.  With loaded tray I return said 60 paces, hop back into bed and fire up the laptop to find out what's happened over night back in oz.  

By the by, this island on Lago Iseo is for sale, all I need is 17 friends with a lazy 100k (euro) and we'll get 3 weeks each, plus a party week, can't wait... Ciao,
DO.

*A Small Place in Italy - Eric Newby