Tuesday 10/7
Morning
By the second hour of trying to get out of Florence on a bicycle I was considering most every option. I simply could not believe that I was trapped in this Italian city. I was looking for one avenue in particular to lead me south out of town and having the hardest time finding it.
I like to think I am a fairly good navigator. It is actually one of the things I need to do for my day job. But this was becoming maddening. I'd chosen to skip the roaming charges and get through a trip with no cell phone navigation. Amazing how used to that you can get. And a paper map might have been a good idea. But I had studied the googlemap on my tablet that morning at breakfast and felt pretty confident in my plan for riding out of Florence.
Getting around this city that was the center of the Renaissance in the 15th century is a challenge to understate it. The traffic is endless streams of small cars, small trucks, small motor scooters, large tour buses and even larger confidence of Italian drivers. Not as much honking as you might think, but the sound of internal combustion, was everywhere. I didn't feel out of place on a bicycle but wasn't exactly at home either. Getting south of the city was a priority but mostly I just wanted to stay out of the way and not get killed.
Then there is the constant about old cities in Europe: every street changes names constantly. And since those names are posted in small, sometimes fading letters on the sides of buildings instead of street signs, missing the road you are looking for can be very easy.
Asking for directions did very little good. The Italians are wonderful. More than willing to try to help in every case. But the best I could get after three attempts was a finger pointed and "that direction until you come to a very beeg and very old building. Then a maybe you ask for directions again." The crazy layout of the streets and the idea that most Florentines probably don't get too far from their own part of town started to make me think that I might not be able to do this.
Maybe hiring a cab driver to lead the way would work. I was almost ready to do that. But stubbornness was leading to more pedaling and the belief I would somehow get out of town.
Finally a stop at a small bike shop, and with a purchased tourist map, I found the road I was looking for. Then crossing the Arno River with my compass in hand, the good old feeling of knowing where you're at (sort of) returned. I was rolling south and escaping Florence.
Tuesday 10/7
Afternoon
Unless you're Lance Armstrong, with or without PED's, the sixth or seventh hour on a bike can bring you to say I've enough for the day. Thighs burned and energy was just about gone within ten kilometers of Tavernelle, my first planned overnight stop. One very steep hill sent me off the bike and on two feet for the first time that day. Pedaling became pushing and it was feeling more like work than vacation. Then the truck passed.
It was loaded with grapes fresh from harvest. The early October weather was still fantastic and the season for beginning wine production had begun. I was breathing deeply already from the hill, and paused as the air became the soft and sour fragrance of ripening grapes. I watched the truck disappear around the next curve. The smell faded and I climbed back on the bike. Just renewed enough to climb a few more hills, and by 5 pm I was in Tavarnelle.
Thursday 10/9
Late Morning
I was on the best bike road ever with the best name for a bike road ever: Traversa del Chianti: Path that crosses the hills between stops for wine. At least that was my translation. It is south of Radda, deep in the soul of Tuscany and far away from the motors that seemed to be everywhere else in Italy. Where there weren't vineyards or the homes of their owners, there were cypress, juniper and olive trees tunneled by the road and turning the hazy light blue midday skies into early twilight. Then gentle switchback climbs and descents, into more views of of translucent grape leaves wired and ordered to rows on the hillside, fading toward winter.
Most all the old cities are on the high ground. Made sense for ancient defense. But for bicycle touring, it's backwards of what you would prefer. It means riding the last tired miles at the end of the day are uphill and the recharged mornings leaving town begin with ease, downhill.
So downhill it is to start the day and I can certainly live with that. Until another climb and the legwork begins again. At late afternoon there will be one final stop on this ride - Siena - another Italian fortress city the shades of clay and evening sunlight. From there, I'll choose to ride the train back to Florence.
But for now, coasting. Thoughts of the curve ahead and then another, the cool breeze, and a path from last night's chianti to the next.
