"Più vecchi diventiamo, più veloci eravamo."

Sardinia 2007

Spring came early for Oscar and Eric, as they arrived at Cagliari International Airport a day earlier than the rest of PMVC. On the morning of the 19^th, they road from San Vero Milis to the base of Seneghe Mountain, where they followed a winding road up and up and up, until it ended at a private estate. The 90+ kilometer ride was notable for the view and for the clouds of gnats that followed the riders. Oscar climbed well, chasing Eric to the top, but this early assault on the mountains would take a toll.

On Seneghe Mountain. If it seems like Eric appears in an awful lot of pictures, it’s because this is his narrative.

Later that day, Oscar and Eric smiled serenely from the veranda while the other club members straggled in.

Oscar smiling serenely in his Warsaw Car-Killers jersey.

Next day was the classic Ghilarza 80 mile ride. Although the route was familiar, there were some new attractions. Passing through Ortueri, 50 miles into the ride, we found ourselves in the midst of a local festival honoring Our Lady of the Cheesecake.

Our Lady of the Cheesecake Festival in Ortueri.

May 21st brought some new roads as, after many years, we decided to brave the bandit-infested hills of Nuoro Province. The road descending out of Nuoro was dry, dusty, windy, and surprisingly full of traffic. The traffic ended as we started to climb up the eastern ridge, past scenic Lago de Cedrino (where German tourists took our pictures).

Dusty and Steve unsuccessfully trying to look as picturesque as the scenery.

We knew we were near the summit when we stopped at Dorgali, but we never imagined that a short tunnel would lead us to a point high above the Tyrhennian Sea. The road down dropped 2000 thousand feet, through at least 20 switchbacks.

Eric in Cala Gonone.

Finally, we reached Cala Gonone, at the edge of what is said to be one of the most beautiful beaches in the world. (Said to be, but we decided it was time to head back up the mountain after we reached the harbor, only to learn of the beach when we read the guide back that evening; sight-seeing is not for us.)

The group intact, near, but obviously not at, the most beautiful beach in the Mediterranean.

The climb from Cala Gonone to Dorgali Heights separated the men from the mountain goats. Rudd and Michele disappeared off the front, with Oscar hanging desparately on Dusty’s wheel. Little did we know then that Oscar’s goat-like ascent would cost him dearly the next day.

We finished with a two-mile climb into Nuoro at the end of a seemingly endless ride of only 55 miles.

After a day of new roads in the East, it was time for an old classic: Bosa – Villaneuva Monteleone – Alghero – Bosa. The now-familiar scenery was wonderful, and the weather was excellent. The crumbling road out of Bosa had been repaved for an early stage of the Giro d’Italia, and our heroes’ names covered the payment as we climbed to the north. Eric was surprisingly strong this morning, and Michele secretly struggled to stay with him (Michele is invited to comment).

Road messages along the route of the 2007 Giro.

A great day, but events soon took an ominous turn. Oscar found himself uncharacteristically out of breath, and it soon became clear that this was not just the fatigue from yesterday’s climbing. When we gathered at Montresta, 10 miles into the ride, Oscar said he was turning back, a first in the annals of PMVC. Lunch at the mountaintop village of Villanova Monteleone was less festive than usual (perhaps owing to the absence of German motorcyclists more than anything else).

After a dizzying descent into Alghero, we returned to Bosa on a stunning, sun-drenched rollercoaster of a road that is carved into the western cliffs along the Mediterranean Sea. Happily, we found Oscar in a bar, drinking an Ichnusa and watching the end of the day’s Giro d’Italia.

Back in Bosa. Row, row, row.

That night, Oscar’s breathing was increasingly labored. At midnight, Oscar awakened Michele and asked to be taken to the hospital in Oristano. Oscar’s team of doctors confirmed that he was suffering a severe asthma attack. Once his breathing stabilized, Oscar was taken to a private suite with five men who never moved during the three days it took before Oscar’s team of physicians consented to letting him leave.

Of course, Oscar expected to be discharged from the hospital and back on the veranda at Mulina Betzu the next afternoon. Knowing that we had to take Oscar “home,” our ride on May 23d was a quick, flat, relatively fast 46 mile trip through the Sinis Peninsula to Tharros.

Dusty and Steve in their Lou’s Crew Jerseys.

On the way back to San Vero, we stopped at the Is Arutas beach for a quick swim.

Eric in his Reed-Smith bathing suit.

When we got to the hospital, we learned that Oscar’s new friends among the medical staff were not prepared to release him. Before we could see him, however, we had to evade a corps of guards who insisted that we had missed visiting hours. Oscar was not happy.

Note the religious pictures above the bed. Why does Michele look so jolly?

We kept the next day’s ride close to home, hoping again to rescue Oscar. Starting from San Vero, we did the 53 mile loop through Paulilatino and Busachi, a beautiful ride through rolling hills and lovely villages, except for the last 15 miles through barren countryside in a crosswind.

The campanile in Busacchi.

After cleaning up, we returned to the hospital and delivered a ham sandwich to our grateful leader, only to learn that he could not leave with us for yet another day. But Dusty did pick up a nice poster while we were there.

Only on the 25^th, after some of our party paid another visit to Is Arutas, was Oscar allowed to leave.

Epilog. Oscar went home through London, and had a relaxing overnight stay at a hotel near Gatwick, although wheezing, with people solicitously coming up to him and asking him if there was anything they could do to help. Dusty and Steve, who were fast-tracking back through Rome and Philadelphia, of course missed their connections, or their connections missed them, and had to spend the night in Newark, arriving in Pittsburgh even after Oscar.

As one-time PMVC rider Charles Dickens once said, “It was the best of trips, it was the worst of trips.” It made us appreciate all the more the opportunity to gather in the hills of Sardinia for riding, eating, sleeping, eating, and riding.