Bikepacking – Genoa to Venice Part 3

Two narrow islands link Chioggia to Venice, I’m ferrying between them and biking their length. At some points they are less than twenty meters wide, more a tide break than an island, but people manage to live here.

My favourite part of the day was the first sight of Venice. A cruise liner was being tugged down the grand canal, dwarfing the Venetian buildings. The contrast between the old world and the new was striking.

I reached my ferry terminal and, by the forest of bikes parked on the waterfront, I guessed cycles aren’t allowed on the boats. Thus I must transition from Bikepacking to Backpacking.

So long, Melter, I hope whomever claims you treats you well and services your brakes. Say hi to Wobble and Squeak in the great cycle lane in the sky.

Venice, population 56’000, has been invaded. A hundred thousand pale, boorish people in neon shorts swarm the streets and clog her bridges, swinging selfie sticks around and walking in circles.

(Rant over)

Despite the ‘tourists’, Venice is a very beautiful city. As there are no cars, an army of porters supply her shops with wheelbarrows. One bookshop I visited was so resigned to being flooded they keep their merchandise in bathtubs and boats.

Earlier, I was stranded on the wrong island. I walked into a church and caught the last half of their last hymn. Christian choir music sounds really atmospheric in Latin.

Have you ever been in a bell tower when they suddenly chime the half hour? I have, I hope my hearing will come back soon.

I spent the day boating between the islands of Murano (glassblowing experts), Burano (lace weaving experts) and Torcello (a swampy cathedral). I’m due at the airport tomorrow so this is me saying ‘ciao’.

I think I’ve put weight ON this week, despite all the biking and hiking. Curse you, addictive and delicious gelato shops at every corner.

Bikepacking – Genoa to Venice Part 2

I arrive in Pisa late and pass under the leaning tower on the way to my hostel. It’s sunk about six feet into the ground and tilted at a crazy angle of fifteen degrees. Almost all my photos show it standing straight up though, weird. Monks are practicing choir in the cathedral, it’s very atmospheric.

The next morning I conduct some emergency surgery on my bike. I fix the shaky front brakes with a paperclip, and the melted back brakes with a cloth and an allen key. The multitool I brought shatters in my hand, any further problems and I’m walking for the remainder of the trip.

I’m biking 84k through Tuscany to Florence today. Mostly flat, I take a short trip into the hills to see some vineyards, rabbits, and deja-vu lizards. My bike and legs are holding up, it takes me 7 hours to arrive with 2 hours for breaks and ice cream.

I think I froze my tastebuds off yesterday with my numerous gelato pit stops, my host makes me a ‘Mangoita’ to take the edge off.

The architecture in Florence is very impressive, but the queues to get in anywhere are even more impressive. I’m experimenting with my zoom lens to make things closer together, let me know what you think.

I’m taking a slow day today, and training it to Ravenna later. I found the worlds best smelling shop, an apothecary where they sell medieval tonics (example: ‘Thyme extract: For what ails you in winter’ – 60 euros).

Michelangelo must have had a very long paintbrush to reach the roof of that cathedral

Today I’m biking north through the Pol delta, 95k through a flat and beautiful landscapes carved by water and tides.

Or at least I would be doing that, but the weather person says it’s going to rain biblically for the next eighteen hours. So I’m grabbing a train to Chioggia ( ‘Little Venice’ ) and sitting this one out.

I’m changing trains a lot; the smaller Italian towns are much quieter, with less tourists and better food. I found a flooded chapel being used as both a goldfish pond and a wishing well, it cost me a euro to turn the lights on for a photo.

Chioggia is what Venice would have been had Venice not discovered intercontinental trade, it’s got the canals but only a fishing industry and few tourists. The cook at the takeaway explains the difference between Roman and standard pizza, I prefer Roman.

Bikepacking – Genoa to Venice Part 1

I remember I used to be good at this. But, this morning, I caused a scare at Gatwick when I pushed my bag under the ropes rather than carry it around their queuing system. After the security team descended on my unattended bag, they accepted that I was just lazy.

I landed in Genoa and bagged a free lift from the dude I was sat next to on the flight (Juan, I salute you). At the train station I found out that I won’t be able to get 3G in Italy – I engineered a solution using offline google maps and some Wi-Fi that I borrowed from a café.

Italy is beautiful, everyone is very friendly. I took a walk around the city to stretch my legs; I think I may be able to finish this trip eating nothing but gelato and pizza.

Back on a bike on day 2, it’s been while. The coast road down the Rivera is fantastic, the weather is perfect and there is a Gelateria every mile or so. Many of the houses have extra windows painted on.

I’m not a fan of hill biking though, so the climb into ruta pass was punishing. I’m through the tunnel and it’s all downhill to Rapallo, to a well earned panini and a train ride.

I reach my hostel in Levanto, the rail tunnels here have been tarmac’ed into bike paths. They really carry your voice, I can hear a conversation a hundred meters ahead. I try a ‘vampiro’ pizza (hold the garlic) and hit the hay at half ten, it’s a big day tomorrow.

My job on day 3 is to navigate five famous fishing villages spread down the coast. The cliffs here are, at best, a 45 degree angle (someone told me once that was ‘flat’ in Nepali).

I hear there is a great photo point in a derelict monastery on the cliff side path to the first village. I grab my bike and bag and set off. I meet three German guys packing up their bikes who tell me that I’ve got a challenge ahead.

They weren’t joking, I spend most of the trail lifting my bike on my shoulder. It’s not useful here, just a dead weight. A man coming the other way eyeballs me and says ‘Bicicleta! Heroico!’.

I slug it out to the top, everyone else on the path asks my name and wants to offer me water. The view is spectacular, and I head down the cliffs into the first village for a drink.

Where the path meets an access road, I emerge and fifty hikers waiting for the bus give me a round of applause! A great ego boost. Pride comes before the fall.

As I wave and bike off down the world’s steepest road, I’m feeling great. I’m slowing down now as the road corners. My rear brake fails and I have to pull an emergency stop with my feet. I reach behind me to touch my block breaks and burn my hand, my fingers are covered in black tar. My entire rear brake has melted under the friction of gravity. Shit, that could have been serious.

So now I’m pushing my bike to Pisa until I can get it fixed.

On the plus side, the boats and trains here are regular and I found a great fish and chip shop. They make wine and lemons here, a local snack is a frozen lemon stuffed with sorbet.