L’eroica ‘the heroic’
is an event started in Tuscany, Italy,
to save some of the ancient white roads from modern tarmac. All competitors
have to ride bikes built before 1986 which means no clipped pedals or bar
shifters except the end of bar type. The
event started in 1995 and has become very popular, especially with old racers
and bicycle collectors. Everyone is encouraged to dress in vintage gear, the
older the better. They now restrict entries to 3500 due to its popularity.
Peter (my older brother) and I decided to attempt the gruelling 205km. Not the best idea, considering the training we had put in. Pete’s longest ride was 15 miles and mine 30 miles. We took different flights to Pisa and met at 10am picking up a hire car. We had a free upgraded to a people carrier when the Eurocar receptionist saw the size of our cycle bags. All loaded we set off for Gaiole in Tuscany where we could register and receive our bike numbers and unexpectedly a black cap in a retro cream cotton cycling bag.
A bike jumble sale was in full swing with a lot of excited
Italians mulling around and talking about past races. Pete wanted to register
his Carpenter bike on the organiser’s website so we assembled our steeds back
at the car. The derailleur on my Carpenter had a stripped thread so while Pete
did his thing I went looking for a rare bolt. Some hope. I had to purchase a
rear derailleur to get up and running again but got a good deal at 30 Euros for
a campagnolo grand sport. Some were 80 Euros. Pete was gone a long time so I
went looking for him.
After meeting up again we set off for our pre-booked
accommodation in Radda a few miles away. By the time we arrived it was about 7pm
and we were both starving not having eaten since breakfast. Radda was a rustic
old town looking medieval in places, with cobbled streets and ancient stone
work. Our rooms were right in the middle of it. It took time to track down the
landlady but we got in and took some time to set up the bikes with numbers,
lights and spares etc. We planned to start riding at 5 am the next morning so
went out looking for a pasta load up at about 9, already a bit late for an
early night. After passing a couple of over priced hotels we found a restaurant
down a dark winding lane. It looked perfect but the prices were the same as the
hotels. We were now desperate so we took the plunge and sat at a table. After a
shortish wait a busy waitress asked us what we would like. There were no menus
about so we asked for one which she provided. She then went and we chose our
meals quickly awaiting her return. We waited as she passed us again and again,
avoiding eye contact. We eventually resorted to waving our arms in the air as
she shuffled by. At last she acknowledged us but ushered another waiter to take
our order. Water, a pasta starter followed by a pizza main course. The water
came quickly so we were hopeful the rest would follow suit. We were both tiring
by then but after about 30 minutes we were presented with a small bowl of pasta
with a few baby tomatoes. Now for the real taste of Italy. Homemade pizza
cooked and roasted on an open wood fire. We could see the logs burning from
where we were and were salivating at the thought of tucking into the crunchy
base. Time went by and the busy waitress passed our table continuously. Looking across the table I could tell Pete was
fading by the way he had laid his head on the table, arms stretched wide and
the snoring was a dead giveaway too. I adopted the same position as we waited
for an eternity. Nothing came our way so when we were both awake we decided to
quit. Pete went to the till and was told it would be a couple more minutes. Too
late...too tired. We staggered back to the rooms and scoffed some cakes bought
earlier. Now 10.30 we hit the sack.
I woke at 4.30... Well I thought it was, forgetting to add
on an hour for Italy time. We left as quickly as possible in a sleep daze. By
this time all the other 205k riders were on their way. We started at 7 am
already 2 hours late.
Once away our sleep deprivation and hunger vanished and the
excitement of the task took hold. We were cruising down the tarmac road trying
not to go too fast at the beginning. A few miles later Pete had to stop as his
crank had already loosened. Only 200k to go! We then arrived at a candle lit
hill made of light compacted hard core. It was tough riding and like all the
climbs to follow, never seemed to end. There were so many false horizons but I
tried to ride each one however slowly. Pete had ridden the shorter route in
2010 and knew what to expect. He started with the strategy of walking if his
heart rate exceeded 140. This meant he walked the last part of any steep climbs
as I rested at the top. He didn’t stop because we had to reach the 80k point
before 3pm. This was the cut off time allotted for the longer route. Ok for the
5am starters but not for us. The riding was fantastic with a mixture of hard
core and tarmac. Some dodgy descents would start tarmac and just as you hit
40mph would change to rutty stony gravel. Not for the feint hearted but Pete and
I seemed to cope better than most, gaining places as we went. The first ristori
or food station couldn’t have come sooner and everyone tucked into free pasta,
bread and cakes, served by local farmer’s wives, some dressed in local
costumes. I too suffered a loose crank but we had no other mechanicals or
punctures. We passed many people changing tyres. There would be up to six
Italians changing one tube, all with their own take on how it should be done.
We reached the cut off time with half an hour to spare and
stuck to the long route. All the other riders with us were going for the 80k
which left us about dead last. The only rider we kept coming into contact with
was an old (about our age!) stocky, bearded Italian who just grunted when we
tried to communicate with him. He passed us on the climbs and we passed him
going down. Your mind seems to go into a
daze after a number of hours, just staring three yards in front of you trying
not to hit the road side or loose grip in the gravel. I think the Italian was
in this mode. All the while you are passing wonderful scenery looking a bit
volcanic in nature with fields of figs, olive and almond trees. Dusk was also
something special. All the time I was riding I was thinking ‘will I hit the
wall soon’, and I presume Pete had the same thoughts passing through his mind.
We started to run out
of water about 10k from the next ristori. We were on our own with no sign of
any people or houses. We struggled but just made it only to be told by a farmer
and his wife ‘no aqua’. They even had a bottle of water on their table. The
hospitality had been brilliant all day and this was the only negative we
experienced. The next few miles were
hard and dry but we had no alternative but to keep going. Our next stop was a
long one with loads of water, food and rest.
Time was ticking on when we arrived at Asciano, another
water hole. Here people were waiting for a bus for the last 40k but with true
British spirit we battled on. The hills had no let up and I had to walk the
steep ones. As the bus went by I wondered if we had made the right decision. It
even gave us a last chance to jump aboard. It was getting dark and was pitch
black when we arrived at Castelnuovo, the last food stop. On arriving into the
town we found all the direction posts gone. We asked round and were told that
everyone had gone home. One of the officials invited us into an old stone
building where the leftover food was. He and his mate then proceeded to feed us
with all we could eat. We had to find our way out of town but they came to the
rescue with their friend guiding us out on his scooter. It was now pitch black
and all we had for lights were two little LED frog lights. Even the moon
deserted us and the road markings were non- existent . A bit scary on the fast tarmac corners.
After 15 hours we arrive back in Gaiole. We rode past our
car, parked on the outskirts and into town and thought everyone would be packed
up and gone home. Far from it. We were greeted by a crowd all clapping and
cheering ‘bravo, bravo’. We stood on a
podium and were presented with plaques and local food. After a chat with the organisers we knew that the
last food post had phoned ahead and they were relieved we had made the last leg
home. After photographs we made for the pasta party tent. There sat with his
wife was our little Italian comrade but this time he had a big smile on his
face. With congratulations and handshakes all round he introduced us to his
wife as if we were long lost friends. He
was the type of character that even if a bus had knocked him down he would have made it back. I suppose that is
what l,eroica is all about.
Best bits: 1. The Tuscan hospitality.
2.
Descending Montalcino at up to 50mph on long winding roads.
3. The first 50k before our
legs and minds went blank.
4. The finish with a sense of
achievement.
John and Peter Bedingfield
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