The night's thunder storm had clearedthe air and left us with a cool,puddle strewn morning. We feasted on a breakfast of eggs, figs and apricots from the farm then ventured into the town to find the station. This is where Marco and Ciro would join the adventure. In what could have been a scene from Columbia, a single carriage, rusty old diesel train pulledinto the equally derelict station and out stepped the two new riders,complete withtwo classic Italian racing bikes.
Our new look team now formed an impressive peloton which snaked through flat paddy fields for the first half of the day. We were constantly entertained by herons stalking the rice fields in what could have been Vietnam.
Our new team members made a good early impression, bringing a packed lunch of prosciutto and cheese sandwiches and a whole melon, which we demolished in front of a mammoth church inthe town of Cavagalia.
The rest of the day's miles were thrashed out along big functional roads, the distant hills steadily growing into vast steep mountain slopes towering up either side of our peloton. Nestled amongst these dramatic inclines, we found our resting place for the night, the town of Pont St Martin. The dark clouds that had threaten us all day finally burst into a biblical downpour just as we arrived at our hotel.
All team members were fast asleep within half an hour of arrival and we didn't surface until tea time when we ventured out in search of food. Whilst doing this we came across the town's famous bridge, the oldest example of its kind in the world. The impact of this historical architecture paled in comparison to the satisfaction of the crisp Birra Moretti that we enjoyed to celebrate a successful day's ride. This was acco
Lanier by another feast of local cuisine including cured meats, fondue and a rich beef stew, all washed down with a grappa night cap, of course!
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