Rider’s ride
Bianchi Oltre XR3 Potenza, £3,299, cycleurope.com
A stylish Italian bike for a glamorous Italian gran fondo, Bianchi’s Oltre XR3 is a light and nimble ride with fasttwitch reactions. Its vibration-dampening Countervail technology, originally developed for use in helicopters, makes for a comfortable time in the saddle and its sleek lines and classic Celeste colouring are sure to turn heads. With a 1,110g frame weight and Fulcrum 7 race wheels, it’s not the lightest ride for the 27% Muro di Sormano, but its carbon fork delivers rigidity and its intelligent geometry ensures a racy ride.
According to the course profile, which I have printed on a piece of paper in my pocket, from the lakeside town of Nesso I can now enjoy a tranquil dash along the shores of Lake Como. I ride past towering cypress trees and admire the hydrofoils tearing across the lake as I bear down on the finish.
However, having signed up for this ride at the last minute, in my haste I hadn’t noticed that my printer had cut off the end of the course. So when I cruise into Como, expecting to tuck into some hot pasta at the finish line, the yellow arrow signs lead me out of town again and up the Col Civiglio, a final 5.7km ascent that averages 6.9% but jolts up to 10%. There’s still 13km to go.
Once I’ve crested this unexpected late climb and dashed back down into the bustle of Como, suddenly the yellow arrow signs are harder to spot. I see the pasta party by the shoreline and relief washes over me. It’s been a beautiful but painful ride, and I’m more than ready to get off my bike, grab some food and wander around by the lake. But something doesn’t feel right. No timing mat? No finishing arch?
After a while, I raise my concerns to an Italian rider who says I am in the wrong place (I later discover that gaggles of other riders also spotted the pasta party and, whether through poor signage or mind-bending hunger, arrowed straight there). The finish line is in fact 500m away. Still, I won’t be happy until I have heard the satisfying beep of the final timing mat so I get back on my bike.
My little detour means that by the time I cross the finish line, six hours and 12 minutes after starting, the organisers are packing up and I ride over the timing mat moments before it’s torn up – the cycling equivalent of Indiana Jones rolling beneath a descending trapdoor, then stretching back to grab his fedora just in time.
Spinning back to the lakeshore for another bowl of pasta and ragu, I notice again the fallen leaves dancing around my bike wheels. The leaves will return next year. And so too, I’m sure, will this tribe of hungry, hurting cyclists. Despite the pain, there is life beyond The Wall. Mark Bailey is a freelance journalist who knows how to suffer for his art
I’m more than ready to grab some food and wander around by the lake. But something doesn’t feel right