Day 19

By happy chance Tim booked a villa that is right on the route of the Strade Bianchi / Eroica bike race. This is relatively new but very popular, running on the "white roads" of Tuscany. These are fully fledged local roads, full width with signs and kilo-posts etc, but unpaved and pretty rough with the local white gravel giving them their name. The race is in April and the sportive in June, so they are long gone for this year, but the route is permanently signed and a leaflet is on-line. So I found the nearest section and did a 50km stretch today whilst D&R were doing a cooking course with a local cook in her house together with Eric, Julie and the girls.
The route was interesting, tough and good fun; about a 1000m of climbing again through some great remote parts of the area, which included, somewhat incongruously a Sculpture Park. Various interesting things protruded from the bushes including this pair of UK phone boxes; entitled Incommunicado.

Day 18

Rowan went into Siena with Eric & Julie and their 9 and 11 year old daughters who seemed more than delighted to have the big girl as their companion. Danielle and I went a good three hour walk in the hills on a great twisting old path that took us to the top of the ridge then back down to the village of Lecche and the old path down to the villa. We passed this house amidst characteristic cypress trees on our way; it is good to walk around here. It was Elizabeth's 11th birthday today so cake and candles were served.

Day 17

I made it into the pool this morning - a rare and unlikely to be repeated this trip occurrence. Afternoon Rowan Danielle and I walked by path and back-road to Radda, a typical hill top Tuscan village where there was a market. There we met Frank and Chris from Dortmund who then gave us a lift back to the villa. It was good to be walking again and to get a feel for the landscape. In the evening we had a barbecue out in the garden with an Owl hooting to add the pastoral effect.

taken by Rowan at Radda

Day 16

So who is at the villa and why? Danielle's classmates from high school are all turning 50 this year [or next in Danielle's case] and so they have reunioned here in Tuscany with partners, children and children's partners. There is Vicki from New York, Eric from New York, Chris from Germany, Tim from Pennsylvania and Danielle from York with assorted add-ons. All going well so far.

The Villa

The villa is in Chianti with vineyards [many] and olive groves [diminishing] the staples. In the afternoon whilst some bravely try the pool and others just relax, I take the bike and go on a short explore. I follow some back roads up to the highest point around, 830m, which is a wooded ridge with views to Arezzo in the east and back towards Siena in the west. Although my ride is under 40km it contains 750m of climbing and takes in great quiet roads - a real privilege.

Day 15

The staff were very grumpy at the hotel at breakfast today so I was glad to move one. I got the 9.30 train from Venice to Siena via Florence. Danielle and Rowan were on a later train. There was the statutory thunderstorm as the train tunnelled through the Apennines, but by the time we got to Florence the storms were all gone. The trundle-train to Siena is a bit of a delight [as long as you are not in a hurry] and the relative peace and serenity of Siena after the bustle of Venice is heaven. I have to wait till 3pm when the shop that holds my bike re-opens [I hope]. So I have hooked up to a wifi in the market square and write this. I chat with an American guy who is setting up a "fitness" business in London with his Chinese business partner - sign of the times.
3.15 Fiorella arrives and I take my bike and prepare for riding again, after so long off it [three days] it is a pleasure to pedal away from the city and hit the hills of Chianti. The ride to villa should mean I arrive just after everyone else. In fact I get drenched in the last 3km as the thunder returns - so I roll up at the villa and stagger in dripping and bedraggled uttering "is this the villa?" to two immaculate ladies. Without batting a perfect eyelid they assured me it was, and carried my bags to a room where I could shower. By the time I emerged clean and dry, it dawned on me that I had arrived not last but first. As the others turned up with various car-related tales of woe [traffic on the autostrada, hire car chaos]

we decided to order a meal at the villa for the first night. So there are 15 of us in total, ages ranging from 9 to 56, and it looks like it should be a good week. Here is the obligatory group photo taken by Anna from the villa.

Day 14

A day in Venice. First we walked around St Marks Square, and the Doge's palace area to get a feel for it. Then through the backstreets over L'Academia bridge and around and about to the Peggy Guggenheim Art Museum. This is the only museum I visited when I came to Venice in 1976. I loved it then, and I loved it now. What is more Rowan and Danielle liked it too. It is the small scale, very high quality, collection that I like, laid out in a quiet backwater that has just a smattering of visitors, no more. We saw Dali, Picasso, Magritte, Bosch, Mondrian, Brach - pretty much every great modern artist, as well as sculptors like Giamcametti and, nearer to home, Henry Moore and Barbara Hepworth. Just great.

Then in the afternoon Danielle suggested we go to the architecture Biennalle which is in a big park to the east of their hotel. Each country has a pavilion and they choose how to show off their skills. This ranged from prosaic Brazil, weird Egypt, wacky UK, austere Serbia to packed and interesting Japan and Korea. It was again not too busy, laid out in a lovely cool park, and just right for us.

We had an evening meal at a restaurant recommended to us by a friend of Danielle's who has a house on one of the islands off Venice. It was a seafood restaurant and it was great. Rowan and Danielle both had baby octopus. I did not.

This is Danielle and Rowan at the cafe at the Biennalle

Day 13

Breakfast in my Siena B&B is a cramped but friendly affair. I then confirm that I can leave my bike and bags with them whilst I travel by train to Venice where I shall meet up with Danielle and Rowan who are arriving by train from Munich. All very exciting. I walk through town again, and down the very long escalator that takes you to the station. The first train to Florence is slow slow slow, meandering through Tuscany. Florence station is awash with inter-railers and attendant hawkers. I am glad to get away on the fast train to Venice. A smooth journey of just over two hours.

When I visited Venice last [if you discount going to the "Venice" hotel in Vegas, which I reluctantly will do] in 1976 I was in the Beetle with a Polish-British bloke I was travelling with. We just drove across the causeway, parked and walked into the city for a day of wandering around. Those days are long gone - everything is much more regulated, with the world's largest carpark [if you don't count the M25] people-movers and so on.
For train travellers it is still easy though, and I just walk through the streets and over the bridges to my hotel. It takes 20 minutes, and every step is an experience. The hotel is fine, and it is soon time to head back to meet D&R at the station. I always like meeting people off trains, and this is a special meeting. All is well. Danielle, being an organised tourist, has some river-boat tickets to take her and Rowan to the hotel they are in [far away from mine], so we plod along the grand canal, past all those amazing buildings and arrive at the Arsenale boat stop. We eat near their hotel then I walk back to my hotel [about four times as quick as the boat]. We shall explore Venice tomorrow. It is a beautiful place to look at and walk though - all those tourists are going to be a challenge though.

Day 12

Health Warning about the photos from the trip. They are below normal quality [no editing facility with me] They will be sorted when I get home.

I was assuming to take the bike out for a day ride today then I thought "ten days continuous cycling, more to come next week, the opportunity to explore your beloved Siena; maybe it is time for a break" So it came to pass that the bike waits in its storage, wondering where the bloke is.

I am not a poet, and I know it, so it is hard to explain why I love Siena so much. It is not just the amazing buildings, and ancient streets, plenty of Italian towns and cities have that. It is something to do with the geography, how steeply streets fall away, to reveal another vista, how unexpectedly a view will open out. It is to do with the size; it is most definitely a tourist town, but not A list [Venice, Florence, Rome etc] and probably not even B list [Pisa, Naples, Verona etc] and so it feels far from overwhelmed by its visitors. The main language you hear in the streets is Italian. 
And it is to do with its realationship to the landscape around it. You walk 100 metres behind the Campo [main piazza] and look over a wall to people's vegetable gardens, orchards, and Tuscan fields and hills behind; it is as if the detritus of modern life has forgotten to strangle Siena. Of course this must just be an illusion, but it is one I like.

And more than anything it is to do with the Piazza del Campo, the sloping piazza that is serene, calm, welcoming, peaceful and perfect. I know of nowhere in a city that is so simply fit for purpose. The amphitheatre like quality of the space, the magnificent tower above it and the building corralling you in make this one of the best places on earth.

Day 11

Another huge thunderstorm last night. By the time I set off across the Luccan plain the sun is pushing the last of the dark clouds away. Our favourite vegetable is Cavallo Nero aka Tuscan Cale; it is therefore very fitting to see someone growing a fine crop in their garden.
The road gets a bit more accidentée and ahead I can see another glorious Tuscan hilltop town - San Miliato. The clue is in the name "hilltop". They are glorious but they are on top of steep salient hills that have steep twisting roads up them. At the top I get some great Scottish pancake type mini-pizzas that prove to be delicious. I ride on quiet hilltop roads with views back to the mountains around Lucca and across the Tuscan hills around me. I see a few walkers and discover that there is a long distance path, The Via Francigena, which runs from Canterbury to Rome. It looks great on this section. Just another thing to think about doing some time!
I take the old main road into Siena and it proves very quiet. When I first visited Siena in 1995 it seemed a fantastic place, with the Piazza del Campo definitely one of the most serene places I have ever been to. This time it did not disappoint, if anything I am finding it more amazing still.
I have a B&B right in the centre, they kindly let me keep my bike in their travel agency shop, and they own a restaurant round the corner which is great too!

Day 10

There was something about the Hotel that made me think of staying a second night. It is 40 or so years old, but is a large concrete out of town place that has the feel of a Communist state hotel of the sort that littered Tito's Jugolsavia. Slightly falling to bits, too big, all just a touch surreal; I liked it. The broken WiFi is very annoying but quite fitting for the place, meaning that I can get on with having a relaxing day off. Oh I forgot to mention the rain. I awoke this morning to the mother of all thunderstorms and it has rained heavy right through to noon with no break in the heavy thick clouds that cloak the Tuscan hills. All this is fine by me. I can catch up on my writing, read the bookgroup book, The Woman Upstairs by Claire Massud, plot my route etc.

In the afternoon the weather clears so I set off on a short ride without panniers etc. I see a Hoopoe, always good for the spirits. I follow a valley thickly cloaked in wood [where Pinochio appears to have been born] with many timber mills still working and thriving by the look of it - how does Italy manage this, to keep manufacturing going small scale? In the UK the pattern seems to be, small concerns are taken over or shut, then the one remaining company gets taken over internationally, assett stripped and shut down. I keep following the road which gets smaller, quieter and higher until I arrive at the col at 840 metres. Quite a climb and really enjoyable. I retrace my footsteps really pleased with the ride - and it stayed dry.

Day 9

After 8 days together the time has come for Dave to head back towards Grenoble where he will catch the bus on Saturday for the return journey to Wetherby. It has been a good joint venture, just a shame that because of his route back he has had to turn round before we got to Tuscany proper. Anyway a handshake at a busy junction at La Spezia docks and we were parted.

Still hot and sunny this morning, but by afternoon there were spots of rain and hints of thunder that never came. There is talk of rain tomorrow but it looks unlikely to me.

The ride out of LS is as usual, a hill and a couple of tunnels. Riding through tunnels is something you get used to - we must have done 30 or so on this trip alone. Put your rear light on, and front if you feel like it, although there is little point, pedal like hell, hope there are no potholes [not usually a problem] and get to the other end as quick as you can. I like it now, especially as they are usually flat and usually at the top of a hill, saving a final bit of climbing. The longest one was 2.5km or so.

The road drops down to the sea which I follow all the way to Via Reggio; as it is a Sunday there are plenty of cyclists in racing gear swishing up and down the boulevard. After several kilometres of beach, people, lights, stop-start etc I stop for a drink. A very calm patron serves me coffee and aqua frizzante then emerges from the kitchen with two enormous tomatoes he has grown in his garden. He also tells me that rain is forecast - this was the first I had heard of it so I was grateful for his thoughts.

I take a back road to Lucca that has the inevitable climb, then great descent to the walled city. I have never been to Lucca but always wanted to visit ever since friend Jacob played a gig there and got paid in olive oil and lemons from the estate where he played. It is a walled city, but not in a York or Avilla medieval way, more like a Berwick on Tweed Georgian style - massive brick ramparts. You can cycle on top of the wall, and a lot of people do. The city itself is medieval and beautiful - especially the Cathedral. Although there were plenty of tourists around it felt far from being the honeypot that York or Florence are; a very pleasant place to be.

I then took the road east to a hotel I booked last night on Booking.com. Danielle and I are both big fans of this website - it has never let us down. Today I arrived hot and sweaty to be greeted with "Mr Palmour, and you have a bike. You can keep it in your room if you like, I will go round and let you in" I could not have asked for more. I could actually, WiFi that works but that is another story.

Day 8

French breakfast would typically be plain croissant, bread, natural yogurt, coffee etc. In Italy that is replaced by filled and dusted croissants [yuk], flavoured yogurt [ditto] bread in little plastic bags [not good]. Still ok though!
Cycle round to Portofino to check it out - obviously provided some of the inspiration for Portmeirion, very pretty but the police checkpoint at the entrance to the harbour to keep out ne'er do wells, and limit cyclists to one hour visits, leaves a sour taste.
We cycle on to Sestri where a street market is in full swing and which we have to negotiate on foot. Then there starts a great climb up to Col de Brasco. This is the old main road [before the Autostrada was built] but is now nearly deserted. Just a few cyclists [sweating in the 36 degree heat] groups of motorcyclists, the odd Dutch tourist. It is a great road too, twisting high high above the Cinque Terre below [which is where late friend Achille’s family had their summer home], high above everything. The descent is good too, I see Ibis in the river valley, but at Aulla our luck runs out and we can find no hotel. So we ride 22k into La Spezia where we are told repeatedly that the city has no hotel rooms free. We try one on spec and we get a room! Then another great room. A very hot day but enjoyable too, and we hit Tuscany for the first time [at Aulla].

This cycle sculpture was an unlikely siting in a dusty village on the road.

Day 7

Day Seven Friday July 18th 2014
Leaving Savona there was lots more up and down riding along the Cote D’Azur. It goes like this, climb a swishing contouring climb, get amazing view, plunge down to next village or town, whoosh on bridge high over the dry river bed, wend way through clogged village streets, have drink at beach cafe with lots of people enjoying the sea, look high to the hills and see the Autostrada happily taking the traffic off or our road. Get back on bike. Repeat.
Last time I was at Genoa [hitchhiking in 1982] I vowed never to return. And now here we are cycling through it at a hot sticky Friday lunchtime. I actually quite enjoy it, it is a real test of urban cycling skills. But what a place! If Genoa is like this in the “calm” North of Italy what must Naples be like? In general the driving is worse than the UK but the tolerance is far far higher. Very little aggression around which contrasts markedly with home.
We get out of Genoa and twist through the tiny streets of Nerva then climb a real steep hot hill that has us both gasping. At the top there is, typically, a shady square with a water fountain - turns out this is where Nietzsche worked on many of his philosophical works. Around the corner is Portofino which is a famous fishing village and now a stopping off point for rich people. We decide we better have a look, so stay at San Margarita in a great hotel which is low-rent, no wifi [pronounced weefee] and run by a very friendly woman and her mother who have both visited York in the past. We eat out and I have pumpkin ravioli with mint leaf garnish - lovely and unusual.

Portofino

Day 6

Along the coast through San Remo [coffee at old station] along old rail line to Imperia [brilliant] then through resort towns until we get to Savona where we find a hotel. A lovely hot day again, the cycling was OK too. The city is typically Italian with Torino-like colonnades and squares. Find a great busy restaurant. Bands in the streets, people out partying - all good stuff.

Day 5

There was a huge rainstorm last night. All gone this morning. We hurtle down to Isola before having a coffee and starting the Lombarda pass … except I see a sign to Nice and suggest we carry on down the valley to Nice, turn left and follow the Riviera to Tuscany. A great idea which we agree to. The road down the Tinee and then the Var valley is amazing, a real Alpine massive trough for miles and miles. Nice is hot and busy until we come to the Promenade des Anglais [memories of walking down here at the end of The Walk in 1984] and follow a bike track right along the front. I like it. Then the road climbs and twists through posh Riviera places [nice limonade at Cap Ferrat with Italian waiter “Wiggins!”] until at Monaco it gets weird with tunnels, underground rondpoints, all too much. Menton is a welcome downbeat surprise and over the border Ventimillga is a delight. Find a good hotel, have a really great meal for $50 and enjoy the place.

Day 4

A beautiful daybreak. Great great breakfast, then off through an Alpine meadow and on the main road to Barcellonette with stunning views of crystal clear mountains. At Jeusieux we have a coffee then turn right and begin the Col de la Bonette, the highest road in Europe. Dave takes one of my panniers - there I said it. Which was good of him and helped me. I enjoy the ride up with lots of cyclists, tourists, sign posts with gradients all the way and interesting buildings, alps etc. Drop down past a Napoleon III deserted village then into St Etienne le Tinnee which I walked through on the GR5 with in 1982! Then a nasty climb up to Auron which I also visited in 82. The hotel is a ski resort one called Eidlewiess, with friendly staff, another good meal - soup, fondue like dish for me - a Newfoundland dog in the bar. Great stuff.

Day 3

Day 3 Monday July 14th 2014

A beautiful morning, a lovely breakfast [home made jams, local walnuts, scrambled eggs, perfect] views over Montbrun and Ventoux, and the dog coming to say hello [actually “got any food?”] We chat with the patrone then cycle up a col; a perfect Provencal morning, blue sky, lavender fields, lonely mountains, other cyclists, hardly any traffic. Really lovely. We drop down to the next valley and then make our way to Sisteron fortified by a coffee on the way in “Betty’s Cafe” no relation. At Sisteron we find no shops open so have a bit of a lunch deficit filled by Alligator Samosas [from the shop of that name, I am still Vegetarian]. Then ride up the quiet Grand Vallon which has amazing folded rock strata all around. It seems to be a glacial overflow channel to me, rather than a conventional valley. We drop back down to the Durance valley and then follow the main road to our hotel at Lautaret. That road was hot and a bit busy [there was a tunnel - never nice] and uphill. The hotel seems fine. There are acrobatic paragliders above us, Fritillery butterflies around and a massive stag-beetle on the patio. Another great meal - fish pie, omelette, fruit pie.

The photo is of The Rock hotel at Sisteron. I think it is well named.

Day 2

Day 2 Sunday July 13th 2014

Orange is bright and warm and pleasant this morning as we all eagerly unpack our bikes, load them up, and head in different directions. Dave and I head towards le Mont Ventoux into a wind on a flat road through Cotes du Rhone vineyards with the giant of Provence looming ahead. I decide that it looms a little too much and take a different route that is really beautiful with lavender fields, butterflies, castles and so on. Dave tackles the giant. I get our rooms sorted out in a hotel high up above Montbrun with its own little Alpe D'huez type climb. The young couple who run it are very friendly [he is an ex music industry worker from Paris; she inherited the building and together they run this new venture] he gives me a beer, and puts on Le Tour for me to watch. Dave arrives having cycled strongly up Ventoux. We walk into the hill top magic of a village that is Montbrun and have a great meal in a little cafe, after a carrot juice in a juice bar [yes really]. Good hot bath in the hotel too.

Day 1

This year's holiday is a little different. Rowan and Danielle are going to Tuscany via Venice and we all meet up in a couple of weeks to share a villa with a load of Danielle's classmates who are all veering towards being 50. I am going to meet them there, having cycled from France with friend Dave. And we shall have a house sitter the whole time as well so Milo will be catered for.
So my cycling adventure started on Saturday morning.

4.30 am A quick final check on everything, goodbye to Danielle and then I cycle the bike over to Dave and Emma’s. The bags are already in the van, so we just need to get the bike on the rack and off we go to Wetherby services. As we arrive at 5.40 the coach arrives too, with the welcoming bike trailer on the back. The Eurobike Express is a service that has been going for 20 years or so now, a specialist bus service for cyclists it operates two routes through France to Spain that allow you to get your bike to where you want to go, but with the minimum of hassle [in contrast to the increasingly difficult and bureaucratic rail and air services]. I have always wanted to support it by using it, but never, until this year, managed it. The downside is that it takes forever - really for ever. You get on board early Saturday morning and, with breaks and the ferry trip to be sure, you get off over 24 hours later in Orange in Provence. That is a lot of leg stretching and back arching. On the other hand there is plenty of space, leg room etc, a loo, a courier service [take a bow Jason from Boro] with meals and drinks if you want, good dvds [we had Gravity and Philomena]

and interesting company - all excited about their various cycling adventures that are about to unfold. To add a little spice we have a puncture at Dover, which is fixed by a man with a jack in quick time.

English Schools

Rowan was chosen to represent North Yorkshire at the English Schools track and field championships again. This is the third time, and it will be the last as next year she will be at an American school. So we were all pleased that she was chosen to carry the flag and the closing ceremony.

Surprise Coffee

I came across the unexpected and much welcome sight of this coffee kiosk on one of our walk routes along the river from home. It does not get much better than being able to have a nice espresso half way round walking the dog. Nice van too.

Cheese

Farmers wrapped their silage bales in special Wensleydale Cheese wrappers to get a bit of free publicity during the Tour.

A Wager

The milkman and I have a bet [this from someone who went to Las Vegas and did not place a single bet]. If Argentina win the World Cup I give him £10, if Germany win he gives me £10. We chose our teams at the start and it looks [as I type this] that we will both have a finalist.

The photo is another example of the marvellous ingenuity of those dales folk when the tour arrived.

Foundation Day

It was Rowan's last Foundation Day at the Mount. Here she is with friend Amelia, and her sport prize and cup. Quite an emotional day.

Stage 3

I had been due to take a portrait session in London today, but it was cancelled, so Rowan and I came to London to see stage three of the Tour. First I tried to find Mike Gregovic in Hackney where he is apparently a regular busker - no joy. Meantime Rowan was taking a thankyou present to the family who looked after her whilst she was on work experience. We met up again at Kings Cross, walked to the Embankment and watched the Tour hurtle past on its last stretch to the finish on the Mall [another win for the new Cavendish - Marcel Kittel]. Next we caught up with Mark and his daughter Thalia who had watched it in St James Park. Had a pint, then we went to Diwana for an Indian vegetarian. Then the train back home. Another lovely day.

Stage 2

Today was another memorable Tour day. The race started in York, and we borrowed a house from some friends so that we could see the tour ride right past the window; something I have always wanted to do ever since seeing the race wind its way through enthusiastic French villages.
So we had bucks fizz and croissants and watched the race. There was then a street party in Bishopthorpe Road where everyone seemed to be, so it was nice to catch up with friends. Finally back home to watch the stage finish in Sheffield on roads I know well.

Stage 1

Drove up to Leyburn and camped out at Edward's in-laws. Breakfast of croissants with Gerald and Anne, then Danielle, Edward, Fay, John and Ed walked up to Grinton Moor to watch stage 1. It was a brilliant, brilliant atmosphere. The whole of the Dales has taken the Tour to their heart and it was a really uplifting day [until Cav crashed in the finale]. This was where we watched from. They reckon a million people watched today's stage and it certainly felt like that.

TdF Launch Event

So the Tour Grand Depart in Yorkshire is here at last. The whole county is going tour-mad, with yellow bikes, bunting etc all over the place. Very exciting. Yesterday evening Dave, Dan, Josh and I went to the launch event at the Leeds Arena. Despite low expectations and an excruciating "warm up" by some local djs the actual event was really good. All the riders on stage, good turns from Opera North and Phoenix Dance, well compered by Mr Radio Tour and Jill Douglas. Great Stuff

Queen Bee

Here is the 100 Acre Lake with enthusiastic bather.
Sunday we drove to near Bridlington to collect Danielle's new Queen Bee. She comes in a little cage with four attendants and some food. We then have to introduce her to the hive "Hi girls, here is your new Queen" and hope that they do not eat her.

Hatfield Moor

Last week on the Humberhead Peatlands at Thorne Moor I met a local who said that the Hatfield Moors [which I had not seen] had been "ruined - made soft". I thought I had better have a look. First impressions were not good - a real car park, about 8 cars, people around, being told off for having the dog off the lead by a "warden". I was pining for Thorne already. However I walked on and soon came to 100 acre lake, and I had left everyone behind, I saw no one for the next four hours. The peatbogs here are, if anything, even more weird than at Thorne. It was a hot still day and it felt a very alien place.
I was listening to a dramatisation of Philip K Dick's Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep as my suitably dystopian soundtrack. Ahead of me at 100 metres or so, I saw six men in black trousers, white shirts and shades. It felt a bit odd, I put Milo on the lead, I looked up. They were gone. As last week, I was once more wondering if reality was slipping a bit. I got to where they had been and saw a track through the weeds to the High Security Prison that lined that edge of the moor. Explained, they must have been prison officers on their break. Maybe.