Italy Divide: Napoli – Lago di Garda, April 2019
It was a cold December Sunday afternoon in the UK. Post-training, I was surfing for a new adventure to banish the gloom of the boring winter day and suddenly there it was. I’d heard of Italy Divide. I knew that Transcontinental racer and 2nd place finisher in 2018, Matt Falconer had ridden it last year, and loved it. I was looking at the 2019 edition, laid out in front of me:
1200km, 15,000m elevation, 85% off road.
Starting in Napoli, heading north through the Appenines, the mountainous backbone of Italy, to finish at Lago di Garda having climbed the edge of the Dolomites.
I had no idea what I had let myself in for. For the first time ever, I would have to pick my bike up, put it on my back, and walk up steep goat tracks.
Day One: Where did I put those leg warmers?
Have you ever been to Napoli? If you haven’t, go! Incredible food and kind people. Located 230km south of Rome, the bay is one of the most beautiful in the world.
Upon exiting the city I had to chase on to the front group and avoid some un-welcome drafting. The pace began to take its toll so I strategically stopped to load up on food and water as I was planning to ride most of the night. As the event entered the first off-road sections and the groups finally split.
As dusk was setting in, tearing down a rocky descent I punctured. Having not learnt my lesson and slowed down, a mere 200m later I punctured again. On the plus side, it’s an opportunity to stop and layer up. Searching in my packs, no sign of the leg warmers. There I was, two-time Transcontinental Race winner and I’d forgotten to pack leg warmers. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d feel like a schoolboy on this event.
As dusk turned to dark, I reached the first really tough sections. 30% ramps forced me off my bike and to hike all 18kg of it up the hill on my back. Italy Divide had properly introduced itself. I was set for a baptism of fire, for which I’ve found an apt definition: “A first experience of something, usually something difficult or unpleasant.”
Day Two: One road actually leads to Rome
The day began at night, as I hadn’t stopped. Very early on a Friday morning, I found myself bouncing down the 2,300 year old Via Appia into Rome. This is where the Roman general Crassus crucified 6,000 slaves along this road having crushed Spartacus and his rebellion. The cobbles were worse than Flanders.
I was heading into Lazio and then for Tuscany and the start of the famous ‘Strada Bianche’ white gravel roads. Here is a confession: I thought that the whole of Italy Divide would be more or less a mixture of idyllic white gravel roads and bike paths. How naive!
While passing through Viterbo, I diverted to buy some leg warmers. As I was pulling into the carpark, I rode though a deep puddle and right into a hidden low kerb. Face over handlebars and smack into a bollard. Thankfully I suffered only a bruised ego and a broken time trial shifter.
Day turned to night and I was on the lookout for a hotel to stop for three hours sleep. After a few hours searching, turning down each vague possibility in hope of something better, at 04:00 I settled on an abandoned house. Here’s the silver lining: to my very pleasant surprise, when I entered the house there was a sofa, and nothing else. A gift. A quiet day of good progress : the calm before the storm.
Day Three: Vicious Italian sheepdogs and a drunken Jimi Hendrix tribute.
I woke up shivering and cold. I had slept for just one hour after 36 hours cycling 583 km. I decided the best way to get warm was to get back on the bike.
The stretch of road ahead of me, through Tuscany, was a worry. This was where Josh Ibbett had been bitten by a dog last year.
In the dark of the night, I heard barking. My bright light caught a hundred pairs of sheep’s eyes. Their enraged dog guardians were standing on small hills in the field. When they saw the light, the dogs went into an absolute frenzy. I retreated a little. They calmed down slightly. I started pushing the bike. They ran towards me. I got on the bike and now, they were running alongside me, though on the other side of a barbed wire fence. I would be okay, wouldn’t I?
All of a sudden, one of the dogs leapt over the fence just in front of me. I went into full sprint mode. Another dog jumped the fence and joined the first one and then a third. It seemed to go on and on but eventually, they started to drop back as I left their territory. I have been chased plenty of times by dogs but this was easily the worst. Absolutely terrified, I was on edge for the rest of that night.
As dawn broke, the incredible beauty of the area became apparent. A wonderful sunrise with an extraordinary inversion cloud layer. I was now riding into Sienna, the route was really grippy, these were those white roads in the Strade Bianchi. I got into Siena at about 08:00 and found a cafe to start to sort myself out. I had some digestive problems during the night and the results weren’t pretty. So, I found myself in a supermarket toilet having to clean myself and my kit. Very glamorous!
I hit Florence in the early evening tourist rush. What a city. Then, the route became really difficult. It was dark and I had all my lights on. Due to the low speeds, my dynamo was not charging my battery pack for my lights and the world around me was becoming darker. The climb I was about to tackle would take me up to 1,000 m. Decision time : stopping was the sensible and best option.
I rolled into the town. Every hotel was full. Turned out there was a big motorbike race the day after at the nearby Mugello circuit. Plan B: I found a pizzeria. Ordered two pizzas and two desserts. Then Gino, drinking at the bar, got friendly. Hey! Come and stay at my place!
An hour and a half later I wake up. It’s not because of my alarm. It’s because Gino has come home and is now playing Hendrix on a guitar and didn’t want to stop. All my batteries are fully charged, I leave him to it and head out into the night.
Day Four: Mountains and Mirages
I resumed the race at 0130 on Sunday morning from Piero a Sieve, nearly 60 hours since my departure from Naples Thursday afternoon. I’d covered 760 km, climbed 10000 m and burnt 25,000 calories.
My immediate challenge was a very tough climb into the Apennines and soon into it, I went past one of my rivals. Five minutes later, he came alongside me. It was Sofiane Sehili, a well-known off-road specialist from France. We rode together for a while before the climb really started. It was another ascent that required some hike-a-bike. As we got to the top, I had pulled out a bit of a lead on him.
I started off down a rough descent on my own. In the first town I found a cafe with self-service croissants and doughnuts. Sofiane joined me soon after and we rode off together for a bit. He went ahead. He’d been telling me about problems with his Garmin. I then saw this problem in real life for him as he went the wrong way.
Late in the afternoon, I arrived at the race checkpoint at Governolo. My idea of getting a good feed was quickly shattered. The race organiser told me that 30 km back I had missed a section of the road. I turned around and rode back.
I was back within 90 minutes and I had lost my race lead. I sat down to a huge plate of pasta. I knew it was going to be a long ride into the night and perhaps I wouldn’t even stop again. There was 300 km to go, in my mind I was racing for the finish.
Unsupported racing requires rest and food. I couldn’t possibly tackle the final climbs without food but I had none. I spot a vending machine. It’s not a mirage. Incredibly it’s full of calorie rich yoghurt drinks – 600kcal in 500mls! I bought 12 and drank six immediately.
After a visit from two visibly confused Carabinieri, I sat alone thinking about what I had ahead of me. Two climbs: almost 3,000m elevation. Then downhill to the finish. My last sleep had been 90 minutes on Gino’s sofa 24 hours earlier. In fact, I had under three hours sleep in the last 90 hours.
What would actually happen on the final day is an experience I will never forget.
Day Five: Mud, rain, snow – the race to the finish
I’ve been chasing Sofiane since my routing mistake. It’s 2am, I’m full of yoghurt and very short of sleep. The first big climb began almost straightaway. I started falling asleep, my mind started playing tricks on me. I know this feeling and knew it wouldn’t last.
At night, off road, it is pretty hard to see where to go and I found myself going along the bottom of an embankment. My wheels were rim deep in mud. I knew if I stopped, I would be stuck. Soon my bike had become completely clogged in the mud. I found a stick and scraped away enough to get going again.
The track led me to a desolate and closed petrol station. Then I saw a cyclist already there. Of course, it is Sofiane, slumped half asleep, sitting on a step, looking absolutely shattered. As I arrive, he wakes up.
I find a tin bath, a watering can and a brush and start scrubbing away. It works, sort of. I jump back on my bike and head off into the night. Sofiane jumps on too and catches up with me quickly.
I’m not really sure if Sofiane is ahead or behind me. I get to 1,000m and the rain begins. I have been pushing my bike up a horrible single-track and then start heading across a field. I’m now at 1,200m, it’s six in the morning and my heart sinks as the rain turns to snow.
Visibility drops down to 10m. I’ve only got cycling gear on and I know that I must climb to 2000m. I make a big decision. I must stop and find somewhere warm to shelter.
I look up local hotels. I call both of them. No answer. I leave the race route and head for the closest one. It’s absolutely dead. I try one final call. There is an answer. Although he doesn’t understand English, in 10 minutes he arrives at the hotel. I take a shower, no rush, I sleep for three hours. For me, at this point, the race was gone. I was going to wait out the storm and then complete the course, safety first.
I woke up to my alarm and opened the curtains. Clear blue sky! Soon I’m on my way. It’s just 90 km to the finish and I will not be stopping. I knew that Sofiane had made terrible progress and was only 15 km ahead of me. However, given the terrain, that’s maybe two and a half hours.
I get back on the race route and I get climbing on the difficult single tracks. After not too long the snow is knee deep. I get off the bike and start pushing.
This went on for a long time. As I struggled along, I can see where Sofiane had ridden. I could even see where he had fallen off. The same happened to me. I must’ve fallen off 15 times. Most of the time, I just jumped up and got back on the bike.
Eventually I found myself riding downhill on tarmac. By now I was just 30 minutes behind him. This was an incredible amount to make up over such a short distance, but he must have been very tired. I stopped and pumped up my tyres for the tarmac.
Race organiser Giacomo had come out in his car and he told me ‘Take it easy, this descent is like the Stelvio’. I tore off and it was amazing. Switchback after switchback. I was really excited because I knew that I couldn’t be far behind. Also, the final climb was all on tarmac.
I started that climb at a ferocious pace. It was 18 km to the top and I thought that I could catch Sofiane. After 16 km at the highest effort I could sustain after all that had gone on before, there he was. I buried myself to get behind him. Then, I just attacked him, with absolutely everything. He finds the pace and comes back to me. I attack again. He comes back to me a second time. I attack once more and open up a 10m gap. I can see the top; the road is covered in snow.
I stopped and so did he. I said, ‘How do you feel about riding in together?’ He says ‘Yeah’ and that was it. The race was over. I knew what he’d been through and I had endless respect and admiration for my fellow racer.
We headed off together, walking through the snow. We arrived at Torbole, on the North end of Lago di Garda in the dark, together. A fitting end to an incredible race with an immense bike rider.
Writing this, it’s a week since I finished, and life is slowly returning to normal. I have been sleeping a lot! My legs are working again. The nerves in my left hand are settling down and the use of it is returning.
Being able to finish at all is testament to the equipment I ride, my bike and clothing. Dom Thomas at Fairlight has designed one hell of a bike.
I was racing in Cafe du Cycliste kit for the first time, it stood up to some terrible conditions. All day rain, snow, heat, we had it all. I was comfortable at all times.
Full ride on:
STRAVA
19/02
