Got chatting to the Italian lass behind reception as I checked out. Asked her how Canazei is actually pronounced. Not exactly a killer line but it broke the ice and I genuinely wanted to know. Assumed it was some big secret. I thought she kept telling me she 'cannot say'. Turns out it's pronounced 'cannat say ee'. She sounded pretty damn sultry though when I thought she was playing hard to get. Decided I'm gonna brush up on my Italian from now on.
Don't want a massive trip to the airport in morning so planned on camping just north of Verona on the green scenic bit of the map. Looks relatively high compared to Verona, which isn't far off sea level. Higher usually means cooler.
Wanted one last play in the Dolomites so rode the Passo di Fedaia. Again. Say what you like but I really aint tired of this road yet. It's amazing. From Caprile I took the R203 south to Agordo. Rode it last year with Catherine and it's superb.
Not ridden the P347 though from Agordo. Looks quite interesting on the map so thought I'd explore.
It was amazing. Pretty quiet and desolate but I passed a bus at one point so obviously there's life around here. Passo di Cereda at the western end was an undiscovered gem. Went through a town just before the pass that looked quite interesting if you ever fancied a pit stop. There's also a nice looking campsite at Tonadico. Big old place with a swimming pool and restaurant. Marked it on the map.
Turned north at Fiera di Primiero. Wrong direction but it's my holiday so bollocks to it. Again, only because the road looked nice on the map. Which it was. Passo di Rolle was probably the best bit of the day so far, and the bar had already been raised pretty high. There's some pretty amazing views from the top if you're into your geology. Sadly enough that kinda thing fascinates me. On a strictly amateur level obviously. There's plenty of pretty cows with bells for the rest of you.
Near Cavalese I took the little yellow twisty road south to Trento. Obviously it's not really yellow but that's what it is on my map and the road number isn't marked. Immediately recognised it as one that me and Jon did a few years ago. We were trying to sort out a balance problem with the front wheel on my trumpet and some old boy around here directed us down this way to Trento. The road is still superb although one or two corners had been scarified. Presumably ready for resurfacing. There's absolutely no feedback on that kinda surface so it's a bit unnerving. The rest was perfect though and all very scenic.
Just before Trento, in a little town called Lona, I called into what must be the worlds friendliest Coop. It was like a supermarket courtesy of Carlsberg. The lass on the till walked up to the automatic doors, from the inside, to invite me in and say ciao. The grocer chap came up to the cheese counter to sort me out with some cheese. Couldn't make sense of any of it so I gestured that he should serve the next guy while I decided. Neither of them would hear any of it and he recommended some nice local cheese and bread. Both turned out to be excellent. When I got back to the till, I thought the young lass had won the lottery, she was so happy. Made me feel all warm and snuggly inside. Good on 'em.
I then had a moment of clarity. Why ride south to Verona when Garda is so close? I could pitch up at our campsite in Malcesine for a couple of nights and not have to pack up in the morning. Sorted.
From Trento I took the S45b to Garda, as recommended by our new biker friend at Bergamo the other day. He's not wrong - it's great. It winds through vinyards and mountains down to the lake. Recommended.
Checked into campsite. Confirmed pronunciation, as per my new Italian resolution. 'mal chay say nay'.
Sparked up a BBQ by the lake, after a good old chinwag with a Danish bloke in a nearby pitch.
Sam, it was the old boy with the blue Morgan who was there last week.
Turns out he's a bit of a biker too. Saw me necking a Tuborg, a Danish brew, and assumed I was Danish. Obviously I'm not but I'll gladly speak bollocks in any language. Although English is the only one that people tend to understand me in. And even that can be a bit hit and miss.
Just as everything seemed perfect, Catherine rang to say she was struggling to sort out the advanced passenger info for her flight. The info that I told her to sort out urgently last week. Needs sorting 24 hours before departure otherwise no flight. And her flight is about 12 hours away.
I really aint fussed. I've just had a day of nothing but perfect roads and happy times. And to top it all off, a group of German girls have just come down to the lake in bikinis for a game of water polo. Heaven!
151 miles
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