Killer views and tough climbs fill the region on Italy’s Adriatic coast
Killer views and tough climbs fill the region by the Adriatic Sea
Iwas on the start line just behind a rider who had stood on a podium at the Giro d’italia. The day before we gathered for that gran fondo, Alessandro Malaguti told me about the breakaway he’d been in on Stage 10 of the 2015 Giro. He and two other Italian riders were going to beat the sprinters into his hometown of Forlì in the Emilia-romagna region. He said he didn’t remember much about the final 10 km, but he did remember the energy of the crowd. He heard from friends and acquaintances later that people started leaving work on the Tuesday afternoon to see if the local boy would win. Even though he finished third, it was still a special day for the rider.
The start line that we were on was buzzing with its own energy. More than 2,700 riders were about to ride the 2019 Gran Fondo Squali, which would take us out of Cattolica on the Adriatic Sea toward the hills south of San Marino and back to the finish near the coast in Gabicce Monte. Just before the gun, a TV camera and microphone appeared in front of me. I was asked, in English, about how I found my visit to the Emilia-romagna region and about my feelings on the fondo I was about to do. (Sometimes as a journalist participating in an
event, I can become the subject.) I was told later that my words made it to the local channels.
The countdown began. The fondo started. I lost Malaguti right away. I’ve gone back to look at the footage I have from my action camera. The former pro, who had retired from racing about three years previously, still had a good jump. As I continued to go through my videos, photos and notes from May 2019 to write this story, Italy was in the midst of its lockdown as it was reeling from the covid-19 pandemic. Usually, photos and videos spark a pleasant nostalgia for the ride, as photos from Malaguti’s 2015 breakaway probably do for him. But I was looking back during a time when the rides I had done were impossible. I didn’t know when I, or anyone, could ride through the rolling Italian countryside like that again. So my nostalgia was mixed with a feeling of loss.
Things move quickly these days. Throughout May and June of this year, the situation in Italy had started to change. It’s probably changed even more now as you read this.
The day before the Gran Fondo Squali (gran fondo of sharks), I went on a ride with my hosts, some fellow journalists and a large group from a London cycling club. Our route took us on sections of the Giro’s Stage 9 time trial to San Marino that would run in about a week. We started along the flat coast and then headed west. Once we got to San Marino, a microstate that sits within Italy, the roads got steeper. We all found our climbing rhythms. I could see the three medieval towers of San Marino, the national symbols sitting on the highest point in the state, in the distance. That’s where we found spots on a patio among many
“After a short ride back to the hotel, a session of wringing the water out of my cycling kit and a long shower, I was in the hotel common area watching the day’s stage of the
Giro and enjoying a ‘recovery’ Aperol spritz.”
non-cycling tourists and re-fuelled with pizza.
We rode down and out of San Marino and faced a few more short lumps on the way back to Cattolica. A few of the British riders complained about the quality of the roads. The surfaces weren’t as nice as many I’ve ridden in other parts of Italy, but I hadn’t really noticed until I overheard the gripes. I guess, as a Canadian used to riding roads that get cracked and heaved by snow and ice, it takes a little more to rattle me. I’d say run 28c tires when you visit Emilia-romagna, and make sure your largest cog is at least a 28-tooth.
Our ride to San Marino and back was a little more than 100 km with more than 1,400 m of climbing. That had my legs a bit tenderized for the sharks the next day. The Gran Fondo Squali started at a screaming pace, as you’d expect things to go out from the first wave. I held on to whichever train of riders I could. The main climb of the long route (about 135 km) is Monte Altavelio-osteriaccia. In roughly 14 km, you go up more than 400 m, and then are treated to a ripping descent. With 70 km still left in the route, you are treated to more inclines, some with grades as high as 14 per cent. Amidst the grinding, I always made sure to look to the side to take in the gorgeous rolling terrain.
With about 30 km to go, it started raining. The weather was a bit of a drag when the course led me on main roads, but the final 20 km through Monte San Bartolo regional park were beautiful, even in the wet. At the finish in Gabicce Monte, I grabbed a crêpe with massive amounts of hazelnut butter, chocolate and sugar. More of the filling might have ended up across my face and on my head unit than in my stomach. After a short ride back to the hotel in Cattolica, a session of wringing the water out of my cycling kit and a long shower, I was in the hotel common area watching the day’s stage of the Giro and enjoying a “recovery” Aperol spritz.
Early this past June, I got an email from one of my hosts in Emilia-romagna. He was doing well. Tourist travel into Italy was opening up again.
The photos from my trip more than a year ago still made me miss the riding in the region, a long way from my home, but the idea of riding there again didn’t seem so faraway anymore.