Italy and Sud-Tirol

Route: Reschen - Meran - Bolzano - Brixen - Welsberg - Cortina d'Ampezzo - Calalzo - Farra d'Alpago - Vittorio Veneto - Treviso - Venice - Latisana - Monfalcone

On the clock: 1850 kms

Another country, another cheesy photo. Get over yourself.

At the top of the Reschen pass, the weather deteriorated again. The spectacular views of Reschen lake made up for it though, what a place. I was happy to see that Meran, 80 kms away was all on cycle path and signposted. It was getting late in the evening and I cycled past a very small campsite in a little village. I paid my 9.50 and got set up. This was a lovely little place with only a few campers and it was easy to make friends on this night as the campsite had a little lounge and games room in a separate building. We all hung out in there, chatting, reading, drinking tea and hiding from the appalling weather.

Tiny chapel

Upstaged by the neighbour's tent again

All the way to Bolzano....

Next day it was back to wall-to-wall sunshine and cloudless skies. I promised myself a long day to reach Bolzano over 100 kms away. What I hadn’t realised though was that it was all a slight downhill. What followed was then one of the best days cycling of my life. I ticked off the miles in no time cruising along fantastic cycle path with a tailwind. After less than 2 hours I had done over 60 kms and stopped for lunch by a lake.

If I can't gave a ship and a star to sail her by, how about a bike and a log to park it in?

How long do you think this glass cabinet full of booze left unattended on the street would last in Glasgow?

All the Bolzano-bound cyclists were having a great time, unlike those heading uphill. I sympathised knowing that would be me some time soon. I arrived in the city of Meran and checked my emails in the off-chance a Couch Surfer had got back to me. I was hoping to carry on to Bolzano that night but decided to stay in Meran when I received an invite from Couch Surfer Markus.

Markus

Meran

I met him off the train and we cycled to his very small flat. Markus introduced me to the delicious Tirolian speciality of Knodeln,  a type of dumpling. We had a  nice night together swapping stories and looking at maps for my onward journey. I set off next morning to Bolzano, 30 kms away on the same splendid cycle path. I arrived in under one hour, wishing I could cycle everywhere at this speed.

I would have liked to be able to spend a night in Bolzano but had arranged to stay with a Warm Showers host in Brixen, 40 kms away. I had a bit of a look around town, a bite to eat and a sleep in a park before setting off in the mid-afternoon sun. As I was sorting out my pannier bags, someone came over and gave me a boiled egg then left without saying a word. This was certainly at the more surreal end of the random acts of kindness spectrum but it was a nice egg. The cycle path to Brixen via Clausens was again signposted the whole way for my convenience. This time the ride was all slightly uphill but nothing too strenuous.

Bolzano

I arrived in the very pretty little town of Brixen and was met by Warm Showers host Moritz at a fountain in the centre of town. His place was less than a minute away. On entering his building, I really wasn’t sure what kind of place this was. We walked up a marble staircase to a reception and then through a Victorian style lounge and into a rickety old lift from the 60’s. On the 3^rd floor, Moritz then showed me into what would be my very own hotel room.

Moritz was brought up in this old hotel and had now taken over the running of it. His girlfriend Nadja and him lived in their own flat next to mine and were expecting their first child. I spent 3 fantastic days with these two. The highlight was our trek to Schlüterhütte(Rifugio Genova). On a Thursday night we drove up to a car park some way down the valley then started a 2 hour walk up to the refuge which lies at 2306 metres above sea level. It was on this walk that I got to see the Dolomites in all their glory for the first time. We arrived at the refuge around 7pm and ordered dinner. After more Knodeln, some very nice local red wine and my first taste of grappa we headed up to bed.

As I said, there was a burnt out ford focus and a couple of fridges just out of shot. Place was a dump.

Arriving at the hut

After about 2 minutes sleep, I was awoken by that that fat hawaiian dude singing “somewhere over the rainbow” on Moritz’s phone. It was 3.45am and time to get up(it’s not often I say that). By 4.15 we were walking further up into the mountains, the bright moon lighting our way. We made our way around sleeping cows almost tripping over a few on the way. It was our plan to reach another sunmmit at just under 3000 metres whose name I can't remember to watch the sunrise.

Leaving the refuge

 It was a fair old trek and by 6am I was desperately scrambling up the last rock face trying to get there on time. A minute or so before I reached the summit, a shaft of orange sunlight appeared on a rock down the valley. I’d only gone and missed it. Still, with views like this I couldn’t really complain.......

We made our way back down to the refuge, collected our stuff then set off down the mountain. By the time I reached the car, my poor legs were really suffering. It’s been a while since I’ve done such an epic hike. Nadja and Moritz bought me lunch before we set off. Can you guess what I had? That’s right,  Knodeln.

The following morning my legs were a joke and I had a 60 km ride ahead of me. Cycling wasn’t so bad, it was walking down stairs that was the real problem. I kissed Nadja goodbye and then Moritz and I headed off on our bikes so he could show me out of town. What a wonderful Warm Showers experience with two amazing people who I can now call friends. See you three soon.

Moritz showed me on to a cycle path which was signposted all the way to Toblach via Welsberg, my next destination. I was on my way to see Andi and Baby(need to stop calling him that soon) Oliver. As I cycled along, I made up little songs about him such as “Baby Oliver I’m coming to get you”(available for download on ITunes 31^st Aug). It was another great ride to Welsberg, sore legs and all and as I pulled into Mutti and Vatti’s garden there he was: bigger and cheekier but still much the same as I’d left him.

 I spent 5 beautiful days with those guys. Mutti cooked for us every night and we spent our days relaxing in the sun, swimming and playing in the garden. I made a little progress on Onkel Michi’s slackline during my stay but not much. Oliver enjoyed our walks in the village and coming up to my room to mess it up. My room in the guesthouse also doubled up as a shiatsu clinic where I was able to give pregnant Andi some nice treatments.

Pragser Wildsee

Lovely Mutti

I'm leaving..... and I'm taking my tractor with me

I also arrived just at the start of the Welsberg Dorffest........

Moe Lederhosen than you can shake a stick at

Andi’s family were so good to me. Thank you  Mutti and Vatti. I was sad to leave Welsberg knowing that I wouldn’t see Andi and Oliver for some time but was looking forward to getting on the road again.

I had a hell of a job trying to explain reverse parallel parking to him

See you soon cheeky chops

I continued on the cycle path to Toblach and from there started a very gradual but very long uphill. The cycle path which would take me to Cortina d’Ampezzo some 30 kms away was in shocking condition. It was an exhausting climb due to the poor road surface so by the time I reached the top I was pretty done in. I had intended to take a slight detour on my way to Cortina to see the Tre Cimes, 3 of the most spectacular peaks in the Dolomites but sadly took a wrong turn. The condition of the cycle path improved a little on the way downhill to Cortina but it remained untarmaced which made for a lot of skidding about and several near-wipeouts.

The Italian financial crisis has obviously led to drastic cuts in the cycle paths budget

C'mon, you're not serious. 

One of the many disused railway stations along the cycle path

Spooky tunnel

Band photo

Reaching Cortina and what I thought was the end of the cycle path, I was happy to find another cycle route leading to Calalzo another 40 kms away. It was round about this time when people stopped speaking German and switched to Italian: Sud Tirol was no more. I would now be slowly making my way off the Dolomites so the ride was predominantly downhill. The cycle path which followed a disused rail route returned to asphalt and took me through some beautiful little towns along the way.  I got an absolute blowout on my front tyre at an inopportune moment in the woods. As I was fixing it however, loads of cyclists stopped to ask if I needed any help. I didn’t but it was nice to know that people cared.

It was time to find somewhere to sleep for the night. I pulled off the cycle path up a dirt road and set up my tent in some long grass which offered good camouflage. After a cup of tea, some instant noodles and a spot of star gazing, I was ready for bed. I didn’t sleep so well that night. When I finally did get to sleep however, I was awoken by a deep grunting noise that I was all too familiar with: wild boar. I was on high-alert for 10 minutes or so but didn’t hear any more from him. I spent the night undisturbed but had had very little sleep. I packed up, set off again at around 6.30am, already counting the minutes till I could fall asleep.

Nighttime

Daytime

I carried on for 20 kms before stopping for breakfast. Just before Peralolo I got on to what used to be the main road before the S51 was built. There was very little traffic on this road which passed through Rivalgo and Davestra it and it was good for cycling. Sadly, the old road came to an abrupt end after 10 kms or so and I was spat out onto the main dual carriageway again. This was really no fun and extremely dangerous. I did a few more kms thinking they may be my last and pulled in at Longarone. After much discussion, some friendly local shopkeepers devised a safer route for me to take, winding through a local industrial estate. It sounded like a ball ache but I would do anything to get off that road. I was really missing the cycle paths of Austria and Germany. After getting through the industrial estate I eventually found myself on a very quiet but eerie road leading through some abandoned industrial wasteland. Eerie or not, it was better than playing chicken with the HGV’s. I cycled through the strange lttle town of Soverzene with its huge, buzzing electricity pylons, a power station and not a soul in sight. If anyone wants to shoot a film with an apocalyptic theme, they should come here. A fair old wind had piped up by this time and was giving me a free lift South. Soon after leaving Soverzene I was overjoyed to find signs for a cycle route to Vittorio Veneto over 30 kms away. That would keep me off the scary roads for a little while anyway.

Kids misbehaving? Tell them this lot will come and get them if they don't pack it in

Soverzene

Before long, all hell broke loose and I was caught unawares in a huge thunder storm. I couldn’t have been in a worse place with only some tiny trees for shelter. It was almost an hour before the clouds started to lift. Soaked to the skin and freezing I got back on my bike and carried on along the country lane. In the next village I found an unattended bonfire in a field and dried myself off there a bit before setting off. After just over 60 kms I found a campsite at the Lago de St Croce and decided to stay the night. I made some soup on the stove and went to the supermarket to fill a plastic bottle with wine. After dinner I went straight to sleep, knackered after the previous nights piggy carry on.

Well I know who won't be winning this year's "best scarecrow" prize

That's why nuns shop at Iceland

The next morning I set off South again, firstly reaching Vittorio Veneto 30 kms away. I continued South to Conegliano on horrible, dirty main roads, just getting my head down and getting on with it. After some time however I decided to try for the more scenic route and pulled off the 13 road near Nervesa. I was lucky to bump into English speaking cyclist Luigi who went out of his way to accompany me on the scenic, country roads to Treviso. By the time I reached Treviso I was done for. I went into a cafe and drank an espresso, finding it hard not to fall asleep on my chair. I wanted to cycle the remaining 40 kms to Venice as much as I wanted a bout of malaria but auto-pilot mode kicked in and I found myself cycling out of town.

Treviso

At an opportune moment I then met cyclist Franco. We cycled together for an hour or so through some lovely country lanes, avoiding the heavy Venice-bound traffic on the main road. It was the first time in a long time I’d had a proper conversation in Italian and after 20 minutes or so I was happy to find it all coming back to me. Franco and I parted company at Quarto d’Altino and I set off on my own for the final 20 km push to Venice. The last part of the ride took me on to the SS14, a seriously busy and dangerous road for cyclists. I stood watching the traffic for at least 10 minutes before I plucked up the courage to get on it and rode hell for leather to get off it as quickly as possible.

I survived. With 115kms on the clock, a sore ass and an anxiety disorder, I finally reached Camping Rialto. I was offered two choices: stay in your own tiny tent which you can’t swing a cat in for 15 euros or have this luxury tent with standing room and a real bed for 9.80. Needless to say I chose the latter. My planned 2 nights at Camping Rialto turned into 5. Fun times, new friends and some partying turned out to be just what I needed. The campsite is about 12 kms away from the centre of Venice but a local bus just outside the campsite takes you in to town in 10 mins.



Arriving in Venice I started the long meander through the narrow myriad of walkways leading to Piazza St Marco. For those of you who have never been to Venice, it is probably just as you would imagine: utterly enchanting and much the same as it was 600 years ago. Also, what I didn't know about Venice before I arrived, which I found fascinating is that it is made up of 118 small islands.The closer I got to town however, the busier it got. Then I reached Rialto bridge: madness. I had probably come at the worst time possible: not only was it the weekend but also the week when most Italians were on holiday. There are infact, at this time of year, more tourists in Venice than Venitians but for me, the romantic charm of Venice still remained intact(just). It was mentally and physically exhausting walking around such a hot, crowded place and as much as I would have liked to have seen inside St Marc's Basilica, I wasn’t waiting in a queue for 2 hours in the baking sun.

A gondola ride costs 80 euros for 40 minutes. No wonder they're always singing

St Marks basilica

The following day, I came back into town on the bus again and repeated the same long, winding walk from Piazzale Roma to Piazza St Marco. This time I headed straight for the shore and booked myself on a 20 euro boat trip to the islands of Murano, Torcello and Burano. It was a nice little trip and good value for money. Watching the glass blowing demonstration on Murano was utterly enthralling and the trip to the little fishing island of Burano with it’s brightly coloured houses was lovely too. I arrived back at the campsite that evening knowing that was my last trip on the bus into Venice. 2 days was enough for me: fun but exhausting. I can see how magical a place Venice is and I would love to come back when I can wander through empty streets and soak up the real atmosphere of this unique place. I would love to go to the opera and see the walkways completely submerged in water when the tides are high. I would like to see how Venetians live in their city when it is not mobbed by tourists. I will be back.....

James and Jenny.  James has just moved from Singapore to study at Glasgow uni.

Watching this glass horse being formed in under a minute out of a shapeless, molten blob was truly fascinating

Master lacemaker, Burano

Brightly coloured cottages, Burano

After 2 failed attempts, I eventually managed to leave Camping Rialto. I couldn't wait to get back on to the SS14 road. My first stop was at the seaside resort of Lido di Iesolo. I had hoped for a lunchtime swim in the sea but it was a crowded hell of sun loungers and parasols so I carried on. My route then took me through Eraclea and Caorle before I started to head away from the coast towards Latisana. The whole ride was very uninspiring but there wasn't so many other ways of heading East out of Venice without a major detour. I got my water bottles filled up at a roadside restaurant then pulled into a field about 20 kms from Latisana. Unable to find my lighter, I wasn't able to use my stove and went to sleep "hungry" and tea-less(oh the horror). There was a wonderful sunset that night and I felt pretty happy with my choice of camp spot. I was now really noticing the shortening of the days as by 8pm it was now starting to get dark. Just as I was settling down to sleep I heard deep breathing outside the tent. I sat bolt upright in my sleeping bag and listened carefully. The animal was just outside my tent in a drainage ditch and I could only presume it was another wild boar although he wasn't grunting. He seemed to be sleeping quite peacefully(lucky for some) and in the 30 minutes or so that followed I began to feel less and less afraid of the sleeping beast. He obviously meant me no harm and was just trying to get a good night's kip like me. Why however, with hundreds of acres of land at his disposal he chose to sleep 2 feet away from a human is beyond me. Maybe he was lonely. Next morning, there was no sign of him.

Back on the SS14

Chris and Liz

Vince and Paulius from Lithuania

I carried on to Latisana and from there, I was back on the SS14 which I had now gotten used to. I had my next stop at San Giorgio di Negaro where I bumped into cycling Kiwis Chris and Liz. One simple pleasure of mine is the opportunities you get to swap maps with cycle tourists going in the opposite direction to you. I swapped my Italy for their Slovenia and everyone was happy. After a quick sleep on a park bench, I was back on the road to Cervignano del Friuli then on to Ronchi dei Legionari. It was at this point that I started to see Slovenia's high mountains looming in the distance.