This was supposed to be a year of cycling, right? Well, we’d been in Italy more than a week and hadn’t gotten on our bikes yet. But that time was drawing near.
We had taken the train from Firenze to Verona. The stop at the station in Verona was short, and we had to hustle bikes and luggage off the train. We were in a rush, but got everything off…or so we thought. As we were leaving the train station, Roger realized he had left his helmet behind, and the train had left the station. Fortunately, we knew of a bike shop a few kilometers outside the city, and we needed a shake-down ride anyway. And why did we know of a full service (very unusual to find it all under one roof in Italy) shop? Five years ago we had gone to Verona to do some biking and Carol’s suitcase, which had all her biking gear, did not arrive with us. British Airways had no idea where it was and after four days gave us permission to purchase new gear. The suitcase arrived on day 8 with Hawaii inspection stickers all over it. It had had a great time in the island state and we had found a good cycling/running shop. Anyway….
We dressed for the ride, and as Roger went to put on his bike shoes, he discovered he had pulled two right shoes from his luggage in Chiusi, and left both left shoes in the bags which remained with our Pienza host. So, wearing no helmet and street shoes, Roger set off with Carol to the bike shop in San Martino, just outside Verona. Since it was the end of the season, nobody had any inventory left. Nonetheless, we found a serviceable helmet and pair of shoes.
The next morning we set out for Padova (Padua). It was a simple 85 kilometer ride we had done before. However, thanks to an amazing number of roads with no signs noting where they were going, multiple signs for the same small towns and directions from locals who only drive from place to place and like to take the scenic route to get there (read that: they visit all their friends in multiple towns on their way from point A to point B), we managed to turn an easy 85 km into 115 km of starts, stops, and generally being “solo un po’ persi” (only a little lost.)
At least the Po Valley is flat. In 115 KM, we climbed a grand total of 74 meters. The biggest hill was an overpass over the A4 Autostrada. The Italians call this, “piano, piano (flat, flat).” Here’s what it looked like in one direction:
..and in the other….
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