06/23, Ride to Gavia

Today was a big riding day as we were leaving Arabba and heading to Passo Stelvio on the border with Switzerland. On the last trip Jim and I had planned a route from Arabba to Andermatt that went over Passo Stelvio, and even though we made good time and head good weather (with the exception of one downpour that we waited out with some other bikers under an overhang) by the time we we had gotten to the top of Stelvio we were ready to call it a day. Unfortunately we still had something like 5 or 6 hours of riding to go at that point.

To avoid that this time, and to ensure us some extra fun time on Stelvio and the roads around it, we booked rooms at the Hotel Folgore, a hotel one hairpin away from the top of Stelvio. We figured we could arrive at Stelvio early afternoon and run up, run down, do whatever we liked for a while and we'd have a hotel right in the middle of it all. What's the saying about the best laid plans?

I was sorry to have to leave the Hotel Mesdi this morning. This was my second stay here, and to say I love the place is an understatement. The food, the service, the location, the staff, everything just conspires to make for a truly memorable stay. I was a little concerned that the rest of the group would not be as impressed with the hotel as I had been, but as the trip progressed everyone commented how fantastic the place was, and how it was a highlight of the trip. If you're ever in the area (and I can't recommend riding in the Dolomites strongly enough) please think about staying at the Hotel Mesdi. Tell them Ken sent you, and say hi to Agnes and Simon for me.

After breakfast we gave our waitress, Agnes, a nice combined tip and settled our bills (including my 35 euro beer tab) at the front desk. As we brought our hardbags out to the bikes I noticed there was a handwritten note on mine telling me about the GPS. Thanks again guys! The skies were gray as we began our (regrettably last) trip up Pordoi. Reluctant to leave the Dolomites behind we made a run up and down Sella as well, and were pleased to have very little traffic to deal with. While it was less crowded, it was also less warm - thermometer at the top of Sella read 10 degrees Celcius. There were a few noteworthy moments that morning - having a pair of Ferrari F430's pass by us on Sella; watching Peter make a pair of passes on the inside of hairpins coming down Pordoi; seeing a pack of crazy trikes at the top of Sella.

Dave and Peter coming back from the ATM as we get ready to roll out of the Dolomites

Clouds on Pordoi

Frank coming up Pordoi

A beauty shot (is that possible?) of the TDM900 on Sella

Passo Sella

Passo Costalunga was out gateway out of the Dolomites, and I have to say the western half is a lot of fun. Even after the "pass" part of it fizzled out and it just became SS241 it was still a nice ride almost all the way to Bolzano. Getting through Bolzano was a different kind of fun. We ended up on a short section of almost-highway (but thankfully not on the Autostrada) that was packed with cars and barely moving. We dawdled along with traffic for a few minutes, and I didn't know if being more aggressive was a good idea with a group. When a group of bikers passed us splitting lanes between us and oncoming traffic that made my decision for me.

What a hoot it was zipping around the stopped cars, using turning lanes, using the center line, using whatever open space was available to us. We weren't flying by, not by a long shot, but just being able to move was a welcome relief. It was one of those moments where you're just so happy you're on a bike. Fortunately everyone kept together for the most part (aided no doubt by Dave keeping me informed over the Scala when we got too far strung apart) and we found our exit that would take us to Passo Mendola.

The skies were getting rapidly darker as we stopped for gas in Bolzano. Once again we were flummoxed by the gas pumps - this place was pump first, pay later. While we were hanging out for a bit and contemplating donning our rain gear a brand-new BMW K1600GTL pulled in next to us. We got to talking to the couple for a bit, and found out they were on vacation from Oregon and the bike was a loaner from BMW - as was all their gear! How did that happen, we asked. Turns out he's a motorcycle travel writer by the name of Bruce Hansen. Along with various magazine articles he's had published he'd written a book in the same series as Hermann's Alps book we were using - Motorcycle Journeys in the Pacific Northwest (available through Amazon and other places). He and his wife were charming to talk to, and we could have easily spent more time talking with them but the darkening skies had us eager to move on.

Dave trying to figure out how he can get a free BMW

Comparing their fashionable footwear

The ride over Mendola was fun - for about 5 minutes until it started to rain. And rain, and rain, and rain, and thunder, and lightning... It was truly an epic rainstorm. We passed a couple groups of (smarter) riders that had tucked in to some natural rock overhangs as we continued higher and higher. Normally there's a great view on this road, as it hugs the side of a rock wall and sports a mostly-open view of the land far, far below. On this day, though, you couldn't really see anything due to the rain. By the time we got to the top of the pass we looked like drowned rats. We thought about killing some time at the top to see if the rain would pass, but decided to just soldier on. I made a quick stop at a store that, in 2009 at least, sold very cheap soccer jerseys hoping to pick some up for my soccer-obsessed 10 year old son but the store had changed hands. This store was the source of his favorite souvenir from the last trip, a garish yellow Valentino Rossi jersey.

I can't really say much about the ride from Mendola to Passo Tonale, other than it rained pretty steady the whole time. Once in a while it would taper off and give you some false hope, until we come down even harder a few miles later. Of course the Zumo kept us entertained with a couple off-route excursions, but other than that we just slogged our way west. By the time we were ascending Passo Tonale it was officially "downright miserable". The top of Tonale is a surprise, because instead of just a rifugio or a couple shops there's basically a whole city. Not much looked to be open, or at least didn't look like they had any customers, so we ended up at the same sandwich place I stopped at last time. I'm sure the staff loved us coming in and taking over a table just for all our soaking wet gear. Lunch choices were limited by the fact that they were out of bread, but we were more interested in hot beverages.

While we finished our lunch I brought up the obvious - if the weather was going to continue like this it was pointless to continue on over Gavia and Stelvio. While I'm quite sure we could have have done it, no one would have enjoyed it. Both passes have famously spectacular views which we would not be obscured by rain and clouds. Any hairpin-strafing enjoyment would be nixed due to the wet roads, and if the temperature dropped there was a good possibility of some ice on the roads as well. We had gotten lucky the other day with Grosglockner, which started out rainy and foggy as well, but we really had no choice once we got there but to get to the other side. On this day we could decide to hotel it this side of Gavia and still be able to do Gavia and Stelvio tomorrow. We agreed to ride on to Ponte di Legno, the last decent-sized town before the start of Passo Gavia, and make a decision based on the weather at that point.

We did have one good laugh at the sandwich place though. When I used the one-person men's room it was not obvious how to flush the toilet. There was a button right next to me on the wall, perhaps this was it? Imagine my surprise, upon pressing the button while still trying to all the layers of pants back up, to find that it rings a bell at the front counter indicating someone needs assistance in the bathroom. I don't think I've ever zipped up quicker. When I relayed this story to the guys at the table, Peter started cracking up - he had done exactly the same thing!

As I was getting back on the bike the waitress came running out with my (smaller) camera. Yesterday the GPS, today the camera. Not good, not good.

Tasty gathering of classic 911's at the top of Passo Mendola

A shame it has to be out in weather like this

We probably left a gallon of water on the floor

Oh yes, beautiful day for a ride

Which turned out to be an easy decision to make, since if anything the weather got colder and wetter as we rode. We were expecting Ponte di Legno to be a good-sized town with maybe a few hotels to choose from - we were wrong. First off it took us a few false starts to find the town "Centro" - the Zumo was pretty much useless at this point, it's delay in realizing it was off-route making navigation almost impossible. We resorted to following the signs for Centro (I know, so old school), and found ourselves heading down a steep, narrow, twisting, soaking wet cobblestone street. This couldn't be right, could it? I was quite concerned about the wet cobblestones but the bike never made a misstep. A couple minutes (felt like more than that) and the narrow street opened up into a tiny piazza with a restaurant on one corner and a coffee shop/bakery on the other. No obvious place to park, the rest of the group found a spot to wiggle their 3 bikes into but I had already gone by and no way could I reverse direction on those cobblestones. I rode around the corner and found an alleyway in which to leave the bike.

Not wanting to sit and have an expensive meal at the restaurant, we chose to walk into the coffee shop. Which, as it would turn out, would kick off of one of the most amazing experiences of the trip.

Nice shot of the road we came down

Sure, it's a parking spot. Right?

We sat our wet selves down again, and it was obvious that there was no point in continuing to Stelvio. We were cold, wet, and the weather showed no signs of improving. We ordered some drinks and desserts and tried to figure out what to do. We had been hoping to find some obvious hotels in town, but that was not the case. There was one right on the piazza, but didn't look like it had seen a guest in months.

At our urging, we convinced Peter to try out his Italian on the coffee shop owner to see if he knew what the weather was going to be like for the rest of the day and tomorrow. Peter claims his Italian is not very good, and he's reluctant to use it, but he gave in and engaged the owner in a conversation. Man, you would have thought Peter just stepped off the boat. No idea why he didn't feel comfortable speaking Italian up to this point, the conversation was flowing just fine.

I have to say there's really no way I can relay how special the rest of the day was, it might be one of those "you had to be there" things.

A couple minutes later the owner's brother comes out with a laptop, showing us the weather forecast. Not good for the rest of the day, but tomorrow should be sunny and warm. We had Peter ask them about hotels in the area, and they suggested two, then disappeared. I sent some texts to my travel agent (my wife, thank you baby!) and she cancelled all of our reservations at the Hotel Folgore. When the brothers came back they told us they had called the local B&B for us, and talked to the owner to make sure he had rooms. There was also a restaurant within walking distance, and they had called them as well to make sure they were open today. They highly recommended the place, gave us directions, and told us the B&B owner, Yuri, would be waiting for us with an umbrella at the turnoff to his road. Seriously? We thanked the brothers, Michael and Pino, profusely and rushed back out to the rain to get on our way.

Michael and Pino, with Peter in the middle. I think it looks like they're making him an offer he can't refuse.

We were assured it was just a few kilometers away, but (I know, this is getting old by now) we still managed to lose our way a couple times. At the top of one road, sure enough, was a man standing with an umbrella motioning emphatically for us to follow him. He ran down the street as we rode slowly, and directed us into a garage to park the bikes. In the front of the garage was a Ducati Monster S2R, so that was a good sign already.

I don't know how to describe Yuri; he was about the happiest, kindest, enthusiastic, most helpful person I've ever run across. He's always smiling, always talking, and was always eager to help us with one thing or another. Once we got off the bikes he insisted we give him all our wet gear so he could get it dried overnight. He made a couple trips running back and forth between the garage and the house while we kind of stood there in disbelief. When we came back I talked with him a little about Ducati, and Valentino and MotoGP, and he had some funny comments - "Yamaha too smooth, boring for Rossi, Ducati like BANG BANG BANG! More fun!".

To own a Ducati at the base of Passo Gavia...heaven

Yuri tending to our wet gear - while making us laugh with stories, of course

The foggy rainy view down into the "big" town of Ponte di Legno

Peter talking with Yuri outside the B&B

Our man Yuri

The hilltop "suburb" of Ponte di Legno. This little village has about 300 permanent residents, the town about 1000. In ski season this swells to 25,000.

He told us we had a whole floor of rooms to ourselves, and showed us around the B&B. He was obviously very proud (and rightly so) of his house and town, and his enthusiasm was infectious. Breakfast was included of course, and he asked us what time would we like it. We replied 8am, and were told that's a little late for mamma's home made bread. 7:30 it is, no problem! As we got unpacked in our rooms (sure enough, a whole floor just for us, with 2 shared bathrooms) the weather cleared up a little, but we didn't care by this point. Back downstairs Yuri was happily showing us some of the old "simple" things he had on display - a wooden sausage press, a daguerreotype camera, etc. We talked to him a bit about the coffee shop, and Peter asked if the Michael and Pino were brothers. "You mean Chip and Chop?" There were a lot of laughs in the ensuing conversation.

Walking back outside, we were amazed at the views back down into Ponte di Legno and the mountains.

Old camera

Sausage press

Weather starting to clear. Nice deck right across the tiny road.

I highly recommend it

Yuri has a fondness for "old, simple things"

Yuri's B&B, and town

Looks like some of the town could use a little freshening up

When we asked where we should go for dinner, he started to give us directions, then thought better of it. "Follow me!" We spent the next half hour on a guided tour of his beautiful town, stopping here and there as he described life in the town as it used to be, or what the significance of a certain sign was, or why there were troughs of water outside, etc. A couple of times a window would be thrown open and an old Italian lady would yell down "Yuri!" and they would chat for a minute. By the time we finally got to the restaurant we were totally taken in by Yuri and Ponte di Legno.

The most traffic the town sees all day I bet

Most residents had ancestors in WWI, and they proudly display memorabilia

What a photogenic street

Yuri telling us how, back in the old days, you could use the water out here for different things at different times. Basically it was fresh water in the morning, and got less so as the day went on.

10 lire fine for fouling the water too early in the day

I don't recall what he was telling us here, but it was interesting (and probably funny)

This little fella was lonely

The weather had definitely improved by the time we got to the other end of town. No regrets.

Wow

The tour continues

(I have a confession to make. Being born and raised in The Bronx, I'm more suspicious of people than most. I always think there's a scam unfolding when a stranger approaches. While on our tour Yuri took a call on his cell and stepped away for a minute, and I imagined he was having this conversation: "Yes, yes, four motorcycles, you can come get them in the morning. Tonight I slit their throats while they sleep." I do eventually trust folks, but it takes a while.)

The food at dinner was excellent, the place prides themselves on local dishes and their portions were more than generous. The best part, for me at least, wasn't the food. Once the dishes from dinner were cleared away, our waitress brought to the table a bottle of grappa, a bottle of regular limoncello, and a bottle of homemade limoncello. On the house. Grappa's not my thing, but the homemade limoncello was fantastic. As Peter and I were making short work of the limoncello who shows up at the restaurant but Chip and Chop. They figured that they sent us here, they should check and see how we were doing - and share some wine with us. One of the more memorable dinners I've had.