After a luxurious, dry, breakfast (the others apparently got soaked by
torrential rain and no breakfast at the campsite) Jim and I set out for
Villa Santina. This was a must-make rendezvous as Liam and Kevin had arranged
to meet us there. It was a slightly damp day, and we soon found out that
the roads surfaced with white gravel were unfeasible slippery. Jim led
setting a good comfortable pace (Jim is probably the only one who really
rides to sightlines, whereas the rest of us just convince ourselves we
are doing). The scenery was quite nice, and I would have loved to see just
how deep the Torrente Novello was, the road went over it and it was a very
vadose canyon, about 3 feet wide and with no visible bottom. We stopped
for lunch in a restaurant off of a road which meandered through a ludicrously
narrow red sandstone gorge (Passo tre Croci). Quite why it had seemed a
good idea to take a road up there is a mystery. It turned out that we were
in German-speaking Italy, which neither of us had been aware existed. We
managed to order something from the menu after much deliberation (Italian
food, in German) and though expensive it wasn't bad, we both managed to
guess on something palatable. On the descent of the Passo di Falzarego
(2452m) I had an outbreak of testosterone and swept past Jim. I had a great
ride, though not a prudent one, bullying my way past a pair of Fireblades
at one point. I did find the front sliding out on turn in at points though,
so was probably not riding prudently for someone thousands of miles from
home. After the pass I slowed right down until Jim caught up and we continued
through Cortina and on to Villa Santina at a more sensible pace, and saw
a lot more of the scenery for it. And what scenery! The dolomites were
by far the most spectacular mountains of the trip, just enormous mountain-sized
lumps of rock. (Dolimitic Limestone, actually, which is apparently quite
weird stuff itself)
We
arrived in Villa Santina to find Liam and Kevin already there, and after
a few minutes the others turned up. Except for Crispin and Ian, the former
because he wanted to get his wheel bearings looked at and the latter because
he refused to get out of bed in the prevailing weather conditions in St
Moritz. We decided to find a campsite, and Jeremy, having assured us that
he had seen a campsite on the way in to town (it later turned out they
had taken a quicker but less scenic route than Jim and I) led the way.
It turned out that he had been mistaken, it was some strange restaurant
in the middle of a forest, possibly something to do with hunting. We sent
Liam in to talk to the locals (he has an Italian girlfriend, of course
he can speak Italian) and he returned with vague directions to a campsite
up the road. We searched up and down a bit and found a campsite in the
woods. Unfortunately it was a Christian girl guides camp, and they were
not too keen on the idea of being joined by a group of smelly bikers. They
did give us directions to another campsite though, some distance away,
but by the side of a very picturesque lake. It also had a bar and restaurant,
and was pronounced a top venue. We ate hugely and well (at last, Italian
food) and drank adequately. At some point someone went out to collect the
stragglers, and they too got to eat and drink. Now we were 10.
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