Thursday 14 October 2010

Day 79 - Friday 8th October - Amantea to Parvati by Ali

80km in 3hr39
21kmph average
47kmph max
6035 odometer

To my delight, there is cold cuts for breakfast. Not something I would ever have imagined myself excited about in pre trip life, but Im happily munching my way through a crusty white roll with some limp ham and sliced cheese, reminiscing about lodging with the old ladies in the Austrian Alps. I am not sure I will be able to cope with the excitement of an actual full breakfast on my return, probably wolf it down and then promptly have it rejected by my stomach, which has contracted and now only receives food in regular small sweetened parcels. Overloaded in everyway, we attempt to cycle up the steep ramp out of the hotel garage, and fail. Delightfully a real life Michelin Man (hes not fat, he works for Michelin) befriends us at this point, and amazed by our trip, rewards us with Michelin Man keyrings. I would like to be able to say that I was a little unimpressed, as I am 25 not 5, but of course I was actually really thrilled with my free gift, and duly attached him to my panniers where he bounces around, a lucky charm perhaps? Time will tell.
After being a little worn down by yesterdays heat and hills, I am initially pleased with the days journey, a nice flat first 50, and a little bit of cloud cover to keep Mr Sunshine at bay. The girls never fail to be amused by my inability to cope with any sunshine over 20 degrees celsius! As we come toward the town of Pizzo, all this changes. The sun comes out in full force and we begin our daily mountain climb. Today its from sea level to the town of Vibo Valentia at around 500m. Progress is slow and steady and when we are due our 60km break we stop the only place we can, at the side of the road. To our bemusement, well dressed city folk keep parking up right next to us and trotting off down the mountainside, emerging with bottles. As we are nearly dry of liquids, we follow them, and find some sort of ever flowing tap, which seems to be emerging out of the mountain. Conveniently, it would appear, we have found ourselves picnicking atop a mountain spring, where the water evidently tastes better than when it later emerges from the Italian taps. We refill and enjoy the sweetest sip since Norway. Quite how they manage to turn this lovely spring water into the warm cloudy juice which emerges into the sinks I do not know. Italy, where the tap water tastes more milky than the milk. 
Eventually we make it up to Vibo Valentia and are rewarded by a huge clap from a crowd of teenagers, which makes my day, as teenagers usually just laugh at us from their bus stop superiority. I am leading this 10km and am delighted to be about to head down the mountain for the forseeable future. Just as settle in and tuck in over the drops, theres the double bell ring request stop signal from behind me. Hazel has felt an odd sensation as we rode over some rough road surface. For once its not hunger, but a problem with her bike. We check the ever troubled back wheel and are somewhat alarmed to find large cracks around the spokes. We are no experts, but we have a feeling this is not good news. We sit awhile and ponder our mountaintop fate before coming up with a solution worthy of a logic puzzle. Loathe to turn back, we decided two people will ride the good bikes down to the next town, where luggage will be deposited. One person will then ride back up unloaded, and take the bags from the dodgy bike, which will be ridden down unloaded.
I weigh up whether I would prefer to stay with the broken bike or ride down, and then back up the mountain. I opt to stay. I find myself alone, which has been rare on the trip, and I feel a little unnerved. Nevertheless my vigil passes without incident and Hazel rides my bike back up. We descend together to the very small town of Parvati, where Phillipa has managed to find us not only a room for the night, but a man willing to drive us to the nearest bike shop! We accept his gracious offer and are relieved to find out that he is seemingly the one sensible driver in the whole of the country. We arrive at local "bike shop" which seems to only stock one bicycle, a selection of offensive motorbike stickers and three treadmills. Nevertheless Phil is soon chatting away to the proprietor, who may or may not be the former Italian champion road cyclist in the framed newspaper clippings on the wall. He is unable to repair or replace said wheel but offers us the advice, "I would risk it, see how far you get." hmmmm
I am a little hesitant of the safety issue, but we dont have much option so decide to give Hazel minimum weight possible on her back wheel to give her the best possible chance of making it to the Southern tip of Sicily. Therefore, as a team, we manage to dispose of two bin bags full of stuff from our panniers. Some rubbish, some clothes, some beloved friends such as Mr Thermos and Peter Storm. Ruthless were we in our slimlining of our possessions, and Phil and I were able to absorb most of Hazels (somewhat thinning and holey) clothing into our luggage. We head out to dine, but decide not to enter the first Pizzeria we come to as a group of 20 or so mountain men are staring at us as if they have never seen females before. Im growing a little tired of feeling self conscious and also of Pizza. I therefore sulk like a small child when I am presented with my slice of margherita dinner, and sit with head in hands taking small forlorn bites whilst the pizza man looks on somewhat upset.

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