The Garmin reads 36.4º, and you believe it. You’re ten hours into day 3, and feel like you’re hours behind the plan you had in your mind at 4:30 this morning. The plan is out of the window, it’s just get to the next control point now, survive. You had noticed, thanked, the cloud cover that had built this afternoon, it gave some respite from the relentless sun. Little did you know just north a storm was brewing for the evening that would change even the best executed plans.

I arrived in Florence, Firenze, a couple of days before the event was kicking off. Acclimatise, right. 36º in the afternoon, crikey. A couple of rides, Fiesole and Chianti, the heat was bearable while moving, but hitting a climb, and slowing, it hit hard, quickly. Bike felt good, I felt good.

Florence - Rome - Florence. Firenze - Roma - Firenze. Why do we anglicise the names, the folks can choose their town, city, country name. Anyway, 1200km plus change. 90 and a bit hours. A loop first east in the hills, scooting round west and into Roma, up back to Firenze, only joking, a 200km loop out north east to Lucca before finishing in Firenze (well Scandicci really, but if we call Stansted London it counts, and my accommodation was in Firenze so I’d be commuting there anyway).

150 or so riders from all over Europe registered the day before and most partook in a pizza party. Iza and myself the from-Scotland (Pole and Englander) contingent. 5am the first riders away, and I was about 20 minutes later, having commuted over, and bumped into Shab - is there a 1200 that she isn't at? (MSR, LEL…)

Let’s go

Low key start, I pretty much left on my own, riders around but ones and fours, grouping up at traffic lights. We headed to Piazza Michelangelo for the famous view over Firenze. It was still dark, maybe the earliest glimmers of dawn peaking on the horizon. Right come on let’s go. A car pulled up, boot open, guy hanging out of the back, filming as they had been the build up in registration the day before. Once he’d pulled off, let’s really go.

25km in and we began to climb, the Cima Coppi of the ride (highest point), an 1100m ascent - strap in this’ll take a moment, fully loaded bikes, fresh legs, don't kill yourself, don't. We ascended into mist, and out of mist, into forest, and out of forest, not a breath of wind. An hour, maybe more, of bliss.

“Ciao bella”, a slightly uncomfortable in-joke with Iza as I found her on the road. She’d made an Instagram video the day before and mentioned the Italian hello of “Ciao bella”. But Italian I’m not, and it feels a little sexist to my ears, should be something more like “Ciao audax-mile-munching-machine” for Iza :) Anyway, I’m over thinking it.

Down and into Poppi, the first control, and the first of what was to come. A stabby little climb to an ancient town and looping by the church. The control was setup streetparty-style tables in one of the historic streets, a breakfast spread put on by a local cafe I think. Alas little to my diet, I grabbed a banana and rolled on. Which meant a stop was soon on the cards. Bakery! Slams on brakes - brakery? I used almost all of my Italian words for a pomodoro focaccia, cafe lungo, and Fanta. Utter bliss.

Rolling along in the intensifying sun, this guy popped on my wheel, alongside and introduced himself - Marco. Out for a recovery ride, nothing to do with the event - we must have ridden 20km chatting away about this and that, he took me up the next climb before looping back - chance encounters, fantastic. Anghiari next and a similar town and setup, I found the central water fountain before the control - let's try and use these a bit rather than all the plastic bottles. The control again was a cafe/bar type setup where they’d prepared a pasta and chickpea salad for riders. Exclamation, who knew chickpeas and a few tomatoes could taste so good?!

Let’s roll on a bit, it was hot, blah blah, Gubbio was nice after the modern bit. And we began climbing as the sun started its golden phase. Tree encloaked hills, a castle on the ridge in the distance. Turned out to be Assisi. Somewhere I’d heard of but maybe in that mythical ancient sense. Here it was for reals, and oh my. There are actually few words I can come up with. The previous (and next) towns/villages were lovely, no properly beautiful 10/10. Assisi was genuinely 20/10 stunning.

In the UK our ancient stuff is all ruined, or we learn of the dark and brutal times of the middle ages. These guys in the boot-shaped country were premier league 2000 years ago, something I’d not sure modern life gets anywhere close to in many cases in direct comparison, never mind inflation adjusted.

Foligno - Foil-ig-no, Fol-ng-yo, yeah I never found out. It was around sunset (8pm) and I rolled into the control. Not ideal and I quickly made my mind up to press on, supermarket raid and get a hotel further on the track. And that was Spoleto 25km or so on.

Fell on my feet, and hopefully the hotel was just happy with a late fill of a room that otherwise would be empty. One smelly cyclist rolling into a distinctly fancy hotel at 9:30pm just before the front desk closed. “Breakfast is at 7:30”, I let her know I wouldn't still be here by then - a fancy shower and bed would be the limit of the luxuries, I had bread and some biscuits in my bag.

Day 2

Rejoin the route, I needed to circumnavigate the town again - great but it’s a on bloody great hill (it is lovely, another for the to-return list). 20 minutes or more of huffing and puffing later and, yup we had a git big climb to do. But in the cool of the morning, after a decent night’s rest (~4hrs sleep), it was really quite nice. And I met Reinhard - at least that’s what I thought he said - I don’t see a Reinhard on the event list, and I have a photo, I didn't imagine him. We chatted and chatted, a break for the descent, but chatted a whole bunch more on the valley road beyond. It was a false-flat in the good direction and we had a great time. Stopped for a Fanta at a 24hr vending machine in the little village of Papigno and shortly after we parted ways - he climbing strongly into the distance.

Which not long after I rolled into Iza’s wheel, “Ciao…” no not this time. And we had a great few hours chatting and rolling along to Reiti where, true to form, we found a Co-op and had the equivalent of a meal deal. Just like home! Cafe legs split us after and it was a warm warm afternoon spinning the legs.

Ok end of day 2 finished our southerly track with a climb to Altipiani di Arcinazzo (secret control) and Piglio - the latter had a mountain water fountain that was chill and actually divine. A quick descent starting to round westwards and then north to Ciampino, just south of Roma. The roads had become busier, the suburbs more suburbia. I made a strategic supermarket raid in Artena - yes I was the one dipping a sandwich into a yoghurt, because why not, but really - no utensil. Yeah it wasn't ideal but y’know there was worse things.

It was dark by the time getting to Ciampino, and I’d probably had an hour or two elbows out with more traffic than I’d seen since the start. I quickly made the decision that Roma was not going to be conquered that night. A couscous thingy and some other thingys were the food of the evening, a shower, and a camp bed in the luxury (not sarcastic) of an air conditioned sports hall.

Day 3

Roma. Well Ciampino is a bit further than I thought from Roma. But I’m probably not the first person to think that, don't Ryanair fly there on one of those 2hr flight, 2hr bus type jobs? Nah it wasn't that bad. So Roma when it came was - city stuff, city stuff… then boom Colosseum. Good morning fella. Lookin’ good. So good that continuing on following the route, 10 minutes later, helll…oo? Back at the Colosseum. My brain didn't need additional confusion at this point, are there two Colosseums? Colossi? ;)

Thank goodness going through the centre at 5am, I actually cant imagine I’d have gotten through at party hour the evening before. There was still a lot going on. My main takeaway from Roma is, everything is gargantuan. The previous little (and not so little) towns, squares and churches, but on a XXXL scale. Grotesque in a way because so grandiose and opulent. I mean beautiful too, but a bit too much for me. I stopped at a little cafe/bar near the northern edge for a coffee and reset.

It was to be a long old day, a hilly one too, and hot, really hot. The day that needed a few extra kms, that in the end wouldn't come. Rolling roads took us to a lake, maybe a former volcano crater, with climb to get out from it to boot. A second lake where the next control was at Lago di Vico. Energy was pretty sapped by this point. I saw Reinhard, last night he’d crossed Roma and stayed in a hotel somewhere in the vicinity, looked fresh. Iza too, who I think had started a little earlier than me and, hope she doesn't mind me saying, looked cooked a little in the same way I felt a lot. She gave the tip of visiting the cafe next door (the control was a BBQ) where she’d charged some devices I think and got coffee. I went and got coffee, and an ice cream.

The climb out of there at around midday was brutal and put me straight back on the struggle bus. I soon needed water, my double bottles and camelback soon running low - spotted an open pizzeria, they’ll have something. Alas just water it turned out, but they did have an Iza and another cyclist looking for the same refuge. The water was cold and it was bliss in the camelback cooling me from behind. And soon enough, or actually not soon enough, but it was still very welcome - Bagnorigio. Another of the ancient wonders. The first wonder was a cafe in the new town (not new, but newer than the ancient town) where I took little encouragement to stop and order a pizza type thing. Crikey it was needed. Dispatched I rolled on through the cobbled street to the end, a viewpoint, the Civita on the next outcrop, bloody hell. Oh and some kind of sound check for quite a party - a speaker system that would raise the ancients!

Enough piddling about, this show needs to be getting along with, or something. It was still stifling in the sun, the legs just didn't come back. But Orvieto did appear in the distance, I’d say on the horizon, but it was another in-the-air jobs. I cursed the impending climb. To be fair it was another beaut though. Ancient streets (curse the cobbles) and a big reveal to a big-ass church, 10/10 decadent imposing fella. Not gonna start lying now, I had a bit of a sit down round the back, I know that’s a euphemism for falling off, but this was a genuine get off and sit down, in the shade, looking out northwards from the elevated position, over the autostrada and train line in the valley below, hills in the background. Summoning the energy to return. It would continue to be a long afternoon.

I’ll spare the complaining, there was a big climb, and we got over it - physically and metaphorically. Not long after it clouded over - not unwelcome to be out of the punishing direct sun. Thankfully there were some functional kilometres in this section, flat and pretty fast - reminded me of the Fens on LEL, in a good way. It must have been around 19:30 and I dived for a supermarket - belly not going to feed itself. Litre of oat milk, Oreos, focaccia - standard stuff. Right where’s this next checkpoint…

Castiglione Del Lago. Ooo nearly run over by a Ferrari - fancy then. It’d gotten dark, the wind picked up, the road surface on the last 15km once heading east to this place on the lake had been rotten - then crunch. Surprise gravel. Glory. Down to the sports centre which was today an audax checkpoint. A little commotion, but to be honest, in the best possible way, in Italy is there always a little commotion(?), it turned out weather was coming in. Big weather. Orange warnings (a trio of thunderstorms, wind and rain) prompting local authorities to close facilities and tell us that we must shelter. Word went round that we were suspended until 6am next morning (there was “verbal agreement” that we’d get 12hrs added to the time limit). Oh this time last year and London-Edinburgh-London being scuppered by Floris was doing that annoying déjà vu thing. But not too disappointed, I was wrecked. I got some food, a shower, and paused just long enough to look out of the window as the lights flickered. The wind was really raging outside, and the most dramatic light-storm putting on a show maybe 20km to the north of us.

It was pretty busy, and crazy warm. I found a quieter, slightly cooler spot downstairs by the reception desk, even found a plug socket and a camping mat - let’s try for some snoozies.

Day 4

Shuffle, scuffle, crash - I awoke. A bunch of people were gone, not the French guy opposite me, he was still out for the count, others were hurriedly, and noisily packing up. It was 4:30 or so. I wandered to see what was going on. The weather had calmed, and despite the instruction a few hours ago folks were bolting. Go while the weather was good - I did get word that there would be thunder cells through the day and we were to shelter if they came on our path. I attempted to wake Mr French-guy, and I knew Iza had sought out a quiet spot - locate her and ensure she knew things were happening. Both were understandably reluctant to the awakening, I commend their ability to rest deeply.

I have a video from this morning once it’d got light, you’ll know the one immediately - I look as fresh as a daisy, no actually the opposite of that. It was a nice morning though, and as the legs came back into life we got some kilometres rolling under the wheels. A supermarket raid was on the cards once I spotted one, and once they were at opening time. Indicatore I think it was, and of Conad variety. Arezzo just off to the east the sun and sky was looking all cheerful over that way, less so westwards with menacing clouds and threatening skies. Guess which way we were routed?

Thankfully this section was termed “flaccid” in a rough Italian/English translation. Flaccid - chill elevation running up the valley more or less along the river. Grand. The tarmac got damp as I entered some urban sprawl. Sprawl that brought busier commuter traffic, road furniture and generally more things going on. Also a group of riders. I know you call a collection of audaxers a faff, I like that. What do you call a group of audaxers on day 4 after a gruelling 900km or so? Not a peloton. Sketchy maybe, ha.

A climb up to the next checkpoint at Incisa. And not much going on. Best way really, this day needed to keep rolling - having the decision to stay at Ciampino on day 2, and the weather yesterday, that left rather a lot for day 4. 330km if we’re getting done tonight, and if we had 12hrs extra or not that was always the plan.

I saw Iza in passing on my exit, little to know she’d got a mechanical to handle, I gave her some update from word at the checkpoint - keep moving, shelter as needed, not much help when mechanical matters take priority. There was another decent climb, they’re all decent on day 4 with a fully loaded bike and less than optimal amounts of rest, the sun had put in an appearance too just to raise the temperatures in that lovely high thirties range again too.

I descended and saw some distinctly grumpy weather on the horizon, just off to the right, exactly where we were to be heading. Really grumpy. I entered Cerbaia and made a beeline for a cafe. Fanta, coffee, crisps, and back out - nope still looking rough and visibly rolling closer. I walked over to the central square and sat, let’s give this 5. The wind suddenly rose, and then the heavens opened. Urk. I made swift movements towards an awning, a restaurant, get a bit of shelter. And what other than shelter do restaurants provide? I looked hopefully at the waiter, we were on a wavelength. It was a distinctly fancy restaurant, but so hospitable to the smelly cyclist. It positively nasty outside I was in no rush to ride in it, polished off some rather nice pasta, side, and bread for the table, naturally.

On a bit of a high rolling down the hill, in the sun, after that decadent pause, Lucca let’s be having you. No matter the positive desire to get there it was still a good two hours away, more than enough time for the pasta-high to wear off and the remainder of the 330km to bite, probably at least half of it still to go, and best not to start doing maths with speeds and finishing times.

Empoli, or at least a glancing blow before mixing it up through suburbs, and a little off-piste gravel walk the bike action. Powerful showers bubbling up in the distance, the sea reacting with the temperatures and convection of the hills it was only a matter of time before I got wet. 10 minutes from the checkpoint near Lucca and the heavens opened. It was about three minutes and I was soaked - despite putting the jacket on.

Final checkpoint checked. The only thing was getting your head into gear for a 110km run for the finish. That’s over four hours on fresh legs, fast roads, and tailwind, this would be none of that. I earmarked needing a supermarket raid before closing time, which might at a guess be around 8. But Lucca first, and unlike Ovieto, Spoleto, etc I’d heard of Lucca and how nice it was. However it turned out to be one of those expectations being higher and not quite matching them. We traversed the path on the wall. But mostly it was busy and didn't have the focal point of previous. I also wanted this done. Maths had been mathed, would 23-midnight be doable?

Light faded, the route wiggled. The route really wiggled, I grew frustrated at it, I’d had my fill of landmarks at this point, let’s get over to Scandicci pronto. I stopped at a supermarket at Pescia - naturally left my phone/wallet on the bike (stowed safe from the previous rain) so needed two visits to acquire the necessary goods. Harumph. And suburbia, as darkness set-in suburbia felt endless. High street, left onto high street, straight over the roundabout onto high street. I’ve no idea which towns were which, but I do know I needed to keep my wits about me with a Friday evening of restaurants and partying going on.

Finally out of the streetlights with maybe 15km to go, opportunity for the comfort break that’d been needed for some time. The moon shone, silhouetting the hills, we rounded one hill, through a tunnel in another and into Scandicci. 23:45 rounded the corner and rolled into the arrivée.

90hrs 44mins written on my card. Hopefully those 12 extra hours come through otherwise it’s tight. But what a four days taking in the sights, sounds and smells of Italy. It was both only the other day, and an eternity ago that we’d been setting off. So much had happened, so much focaccia eaten. Italy is beautiful, of course I’d suspected it, but now I’d seen it. Not the obvious places, I don't particularly care to return to Roma, but Spoleto, Orvieto, Assisi, oh Assisi. Churches, wild churches. Ancient civitas. The feeling that unlike the UK and other places where history is preserved or re-enacted having been ruined, Italy these places are still walking, talking, living places. Ancient streets, sure bringing in tourist traffic, but still real streets with real people living normal lives.

The weather threw a lot at us, not just the storms, they threw them at the organisers, goodness that must have been stressful, but the sheer relentless sun and heat. Hard to ride in the day, hard to rest at night. Maybe the hardest one I’ve done.

This ride was my MS Society fundraising event, if you’d wish to support and help fight MS visit my JustGiving page.

Comments? Mastodon me @mealybar, smoke signals, or homing pigeon, or something :)