Culture and Connection (Part 1)

Bonjour, Buon giorno, Guten tag, Gruss Gott (Bavarian) and Howdy! I’m now multi-lingual. I can say “Hello” in a variety of languages. Unfortunately, that’s all I can say. On this trip, I was country fluid riding across boarders sometimes two or three times in one day. Think Basel, Switzerland which is set at the intersection of France, Switzerland and Germany. Often, in the Tirol (Tyrol) region of Austria and Italy, I was flipping back and forth between languages, cultures, food, road signage, beer, wine, gelato and pretzels on what seemed a daily basis. Thankfully Euros are the common currency (except Switzerland which is Francs) and the quality of the bike paths were first class in each country I pedaled through.

Bike routes and people along the way:

I rode on many different bike routes during my trip. In fact, it seems like I was re-routing every couple of days because of heat, cost, unbridled tourism and lack of campgrounds for a biker and her tent. One or two of these factors would be no biggie, but in Italy I was facing all of these factors at once.

My first bike route was EuroVelo 15 which I joined in Karlsruhe, Germany. I crossed over to Strasbourg, France and met up with a couple of friends and together we worked our way down to Basel, Switzerland. Five days and many adventures later, we parted ways. I turned east and continued on EuroVelo 15 towards the Bodensee (German side)/Lake Constance (Swiss side).

My stamina slowly increased over the flat paths of the Rhine. Now was time to put my muscles to the test and start climbing the foothills and eventually the majestic Alps. My legs revolted at first and then resigned to the fact that this was how it would be for the next couple of weeks. About five days in, I met a Danish woman on the top of Arlbergpass (1802 m.) in Austria, after chatting a bit, we rode down to St.Anton where she lives. In front of her apartment she said, “Do you want to stay here in St. Anton?” Of course I do! I ended up staying 3 glorious nights. We rented electric bikes and rode up 2,384 m to Darmstädter Hütte with a French friend where we enjoyed a beer and a shot of schnapps with lunch before testing my ability to stay upright on the cruise back down. We had so much fun that Annagrete decided to join me on my journey for three nights. We cycled the Via Claudia Augusta Route to Nauders, over Reschenpass, Laas, Merano, and slightly off course to Lake Kalterer (KalitererSee) before she, sadly, returned home.

Not only was Annagrete great company, but she also took the navigation burden off of me for a few days. What a relief. I seemed to always add a couple miles to my days going around in circles before finding my way out if town. Following a blue dot on a tiny device is not as easy as you would think. Sometimes signage is fabulous and sometimes it is so vague that was not until I winded up at someones’s back yard barbecue that I realized I must have taken a wrong turn somewhere.

I continued the ride down the Via Claudia Augusta bike route to Trento where I stayed in a hostel also housing Ukrainian refugees and unaccompanied youth. I learned that sheltering refugees in hostels was becoming common in Italy.

From Trento it was a days ride to the town of Riva del Garda on Lake Garda, Italy. After going from camp ground to camp ground along the waterfront, I finally, after five tries, found a place that was only 20 euros, verses 40-50 euros, and actually had a separate small space for tents. I ended up staying three nights because it was so nice to have a place to swim and relax. Plus, it was fun to talk to the other campers from all over Europe. At most campsites, the tourist were mainly German, but Lake Garda draws a crowd from both Western and Eastern Europe because of it’s consistently good weather, hiking, swimming, biking, sun bathing, and all kinds of other water sports. I have to say it was hard to leave even though I was pitched on a patch of dirt. Before bed, I had to make sure everything was bolted down due to the nightly electrical storms and gale force wind that would whisk everything away. During the day, it was as if nothing happened.

Change of Plans…

My original plan changed so many times that I don’t even remember what it was. This trip was meant to be “organic” from the start. I had a vague outline of what I wanted it to look like, but promptly trashed that and, not unlike the Rhine River itself, went with the flow. I often pivoted on a moments notice. From Lake Garda, the original idea was to continue down to Florence, Siena, Island of Elba then cross the country above Rome and up the Adriatic coast. The heat changed that in a nano-second. But my new route wasn’t perfect either, I quickly learned that Italy is not set up for bike touring…bike racing, yes, but not bike touring. There was almost no camping along the bike paths and when there was camping it was outrageously expensive and exclusively for RV’s and campers. They would allow me to stay but charged the same as the big rigs typically 40-55 euros a night. They seemed to loath me and offered a pitiful corner that no one else would take. To be fair, many of these camp spots are booked a year in advance. It’s were folks go every year for holiday. They set up camp as if it were their permanent home, stay 2 -3 weeks, and then leave.

This is all to say that I rerouted to the Mincio and Po River route that headed east towards the Adriatic Coast instead of further south into Italy. At this point, there weren’t a load of options for escaping the heat and tourists unless you got on a train and headed away from the sea. I wanted to figure it out without completely leaving the area. I liked the idea of being in Italy. I wasn’t done with gelato, pizza or good coffee. Besides, the adventure for me is wondering what will happen next. How will this all unfold. Where will I stay? Who will I meet? What amazing things will happen that I could never plan for or imagine possible. Adventure lies smack dab in the middle of the unknown. Normally, I’m cool here. But, now, with the heat blasting overhead, it was starting to wear me down. To save myself, I started depending on the tourist information centers to help with accommodations. In Mantova, a beautiful little UNESCO world heritage site (one of two on this route), I had them book me a bed at the hostel in Governolo, a hidden gem completely off my radar. I loved it so much that I ended up staying two nights in this small town of about 500 inhabitants. I was given my own room with private bath for 25 euros – cheaper than camping. The few guests at the hostel were either fishermen or other Italian workers needing a place to stay. The hostel had a lovely restaurant with home cooked regional food. I treated myself to a delicious meal of pumpkin ravioli with butter sauce, salad and a glass of white wine. Before I finished, the waiter came over to tell me the gentleman sitting at the table beside me, a farrier from the next town over, had paid for my meal on his way out. Shortly after that, the family at another table invited me to sit with them and have dessert. This is the beauty of a small town and the reason I love to travel.

I’m putting on the brakes and leaving you here in suspense near the end of the Po River. Before your eyes glass over and your heads jerks back, I will end Part I. Will I head south, will I turn and cycle north, or will I continue east into the sunset? Stay tuned for Part II and find out. Until then arrivederci, au revoir, ciao, auf wiedersehen, that’s all folks!

One more thing…here is a short story about my trip to the Arctic in 2019. It was published in Adventure Cycling Magazine in the Aug/Sept 2022 publication.

Cheers,

Denise