PMVC Training Camp Lite

Sardinia 2005

La Tradizione Continua

The Year of the Snake

Poppies.

The 2005 PMVC training trip to Sardinia commenced about a week later than usual, so we missed the beautiful show of wildflowers as captured by Eric in last-year's pictures. There were still lots of poppies everywhere (as above). On the other hand, we had lots of snakes: both as road-kill, and as live animals, about 2-4 feet long, either forest green or coal black. St. Patrick clearly missed Sardinia. On the Bosa-Alghero ride, on the plateau section, Steve, Oscar, and Michele encountered an eerie sight. From a distance it looked as though a large snake had been run over and was writhing in agony in the road. As we drew closer, it turned out to be two snakes performing a mating rite by wrapping around each other and rolling over and over in the road in a sort of double helix (or, as Eric later commented, a Caduceus without a stick). These amorous snakes would not wait for a picture to be taken of them, but slithered off into the side-grass to finish their business. It was a constant challenge not to run over snakes down 35-mph descents, threatening entanglement with the front brake. On our next-to-last ride Eric, Michele, and Oscar instantly scattered to both sides of the road to avoid running over a road-crossing reptile just outside Paulilatino, a factor enabling Oscar to sneak past and take the rusted Paulilatino sprint sign. What do they eat? Other snakes, lizards, insects, or what? No other significant wildlife revealed itself during our one-week stay.

Saturday, May 21

Oscar looking bleary-eyed at Gatwick. Photo by Eric

Putzu Idu. Steve, Barry, and I took a flight out of Pittsburgh to London Gatwick, and met Eric there for the flight to Cagliari next morning.

Barry, Eric, Michele, and Oscar at the Cagliari airport. Eric sports his Tuba City sweatshirt.

There, as if by magic, we met our indomitable helpmate Michele, who had arranged for the pick-up of an even better van than before, some kind of Renault. Michele showed himself through the trip in the best possible light as van driver, although he generously gave credit to the quality of the van.

Michele at the wheel.

The usual trepidation riding in the font seat next to Michele was entirely lacking this time. Along the way to our agriturismo we stopped to get a supply of water that would last us for almost the entire trip, and a bunch of bananas.

The van, loaded and ready to go.

Advance anxiety to the contrary, Saturday evening upon arrival still allowed enough time to put the bikes together and make the traditional 34 km shakedown ride to the shore to the unpicturesque little village of Putzu Idu and back, the point being to establish the hierarchy for the week to come. The ride speed averages about 25 mph. Michele's not-very secret training paid off, as he showed himself to be the alpha-bike rider for the week. He generously allowed Oscar to win the Putzu Idu sign, with Eric, Steve, and Barry close behind. On the way back into town Michele definitively showed who was who by riding Oscar off his wheel and taking the San Vero Milis sprint sign. As usual, Michele had unfairly been training in the off season and had already ridden two or three Grandfondo races. He never wants to be caught again off guard like the first two times.

Michele in an uncharacteristically tender moment with Daniela's Picchi.

Dinner at Mulinu Betzu (The Old Mill, the name of the agriturismo run by the power-house hostess Daniela Cubbadu and her husband Mauro) consisted of (antipasto) artichokes in oil, prosciutto and thin-sliced salami, baby asparagus, and cheese pastries; (pasta) linguini and tomato sauce; (main course) choice of either pork or beef steaks; (dessert) followed by fruit, cheese, and narancello (orange liqueur).

Our hosts, Daniela and Mauro.

Always present at dinner is flatbread and regular Italian bread, as well as the house wine (usually red, white on seafood nights). Every night there was a huge fresh green salad. Too bad that the modest Vishal was not there to dress it.

Dinner the first night. The main course is served on a slab of cork.

Daniela and Mauro, exhibiting the inextinguishable Italian drive to build, build, build, are in the process of building a huge house for themselves abutting the four tourist lodges, across from the main house.

Watching from the outside the bar with no name, downtown San Vero Milis.

Most dinners were followed by a walk downtown, so to speak, where we peered for a while into the main, nameless, bar in town, without going in, and then wandered home, dreaming of buying one of the vacated downtown San Vero houses for a vacation home. Along the way we shared last-year stories of Ruud, who ventured one night into the bar, ordered a mirto, and spent the next day in bed with a combined hangover and toothache. The first thing he did next morning was to cancel his mirto order.

Ruud was prevented from attending this year's training session for having to watch some relative graduate from high school, a likely story.

25 miles

Sunday, May 22

Steve took a picture of everything that was served. Here is breakfast.

Buggeru. Lack of memory can only explain the decision to do the fabled Buggeru ride as our first venture into the Sardinian wilderness. It's 80+ miles of unrelenting up and down. Preceded by an hour of driving to Guspini (we park in the square of the Immaculate Bottom Bracket, so named from several years back, when Oscar had to screw in his bottom bracket every ten miles or so). It has recently been renamed the Square of the Loosening Headset.

Square of Our Lady of the Loosening Headset, Guspini.

The smile on our faces in the picture getting out of the van below shows how little we are aware of what awaits us. Steve, Eric, and Oscar were real camera-bugs this year, all carrying the same little Pentax digital camera that Steve had first bought, fascinated by the fact that it fits into an Altoids box.

Guspini and not really ready for the day ahead.

After climbing two named passes (interrupted by a snake-filled rest-stop at an old Casa Cantoniera (road-tender's house) just over the top of one pass), we descend to an intersection taking us to Buggeru on the seacoast, followed by a simply horrendous ascent and similar descent before the approach to Iglesias. Michele toys with Oscar over the pass, the others wisely choosing to hold back and take it easy.

Lunch.

On the way back through Iglesias and the pass before Flummine Maggiore, Michele reveals his truly sadistic nature by forging ahead only enough as to keep Oscar panting and dangling instead of mercifully killing him off. The descent to Flummine Maggiore seems to last forever. One is surprised not to end up at the center of the earth. On the last nasty ascent to Arbus, Michele thankfully blows out a tire, and has to suffer the indignity of Oscar fixing it for him with a 30-year-old sew-up casing patch he keeps for just such occasions.

Michele's blowout.

In Guspini, Michele and Oscar impatiently wait for the others in a bar. With Eric and Steve finally in tow, we take the van to back to Arbus to pick up Barry, who has had a ride-stopping cramp just outside town (unfortunately, no picture available).

Cocktails on the veranda.

Dinner. Preceded by Steve's vodka, Oscar's trail mix, and Daniela's father's vernaccia (Sardinian sherry) on the veranda. Dinner consists of artichokes, cheese, and a pasta dish, along with toast and tomatoes, prosciutto and thin-sliced sausage in oil.

Everything Daniela prepares could be photographed. This is Steve's picture of Daniela's prosciutto.

The main course is roast lamb from the forno (outdoor roasting oven). Oscar this time and always gets his pick of the season's medlar crop, as being their only true appreciator. The others get oranges, cheese, and the best lemon ice ever made. The person in Highland Park could take lessons. Oscar brings home new instructions for sprouting medlar seeds. Put them in the ground.

80 miles + 25 = 105.

Monday, May 23

Monte Ferru from the Cuglieri side

Monte Ferru. Next day we take a relaxing and scenic ride from the agriturismo up the local mountain, Monte Ferru (Iron Mountain), through Senegghe, Bonarcardo, Santu Lussurghiu, and Cuglieri, with a 20-mile, mostly 30 mph descent from Cuglieri back down to the plains. In every town, Eric tries, in vain, to find a bancomat that will accept his credit card. In the afternoon we go into the nearest large town, Oristano, to look for a new tire and tube for Michele, and a headset spacer and fork diagnosis for Oscar.

Oscar lugging his bike around Oristano in search of a headset spacer.

We take a short walk around the downtown area, the only touristy thing we did the whole time we were in Sardinia.

In response to request, antipasto becomes mostly vegetables: asparagus, green beans, followed by fettuccini with fresh mushrooms, thin-sliced veal, medlars, cheese, fruit, mirto.

105+50= 155

Tuesday, May 24th

The climb to Teti.

Mountain Villages. This is probably the prettiest of the mountain-village rides, and we rode it in the most gorgeous possible weather. The weather for the entire week was perfect. We drive to Sarule and park in the lot of a bar on the outskirts of town.

The village names are sheer poetry: Tiana, Gavoi, Belvi, Tonara, Aritzo.

On to Atzui, a descent to a reservoir, a climb to Teti (newly dead fox on the road; a new generation of farm-house dogs to chase Eric; a Cheshire cat in a tree at the outskirts of Teti). We descend and then climb to Tonara (torrone capital of the world), where we have lunch. The sprint for the Tonara sign is in dispute between Eric and Michele. The women in the small grocery store in Tonara recognize us from the year before. Next we speed down the very-long descent to the outskirts of Belvi and then climb to, through, and up past Desulo.

The reservoir after Atzui. View from Teti.

Desulo looming menacingly in the distance.

History is Written by the Victors

The climb from Desulo over the Arcu 'e Tascussi pass is always hotly contested between Oscar and Eric, with others being either ahead or behind; it doesn't matter; the whole world's eyes are concentrated on this one epic battle. Oscar always feels bad on this climb, and Eric always feels good. Eric had beaten Oscar the last two times up this approximately three-mile climb, which is the highest point (altitudinally speaking) we reach during our rides in the central Barbaggia region. This time, however, Eric made the mistake of not dropping Oscar right away on the steep incline out of town, allowing him to hang on, by a thread, gasping, all the way to the approach to the summit. With about 100 meters to go, Eric puts on the pressure. Oscar drops back about 10 meters, shifts up, gets off his saddle, and comes around a dismayed and disgusted Eric with about 15 meters to go. Eric claims foul, that Oscar was pushing him into a patch of liquid tar, but Michele, already at the summit, confirms the result.

Eric puts a good face on it.

After the summit follows a descent, of course, interruypted by a stop at a natural spring, where a German cyclist and his pretty girlfriend have also stopped, and then some more climbing before coming down into Fonni, the highest of the mountain villages, where we stop for a traditional ice cream and coke. After Gavoi, it's mostly downhill back to Sarule. As we arrive in Sarule, Steve is suddenly seized with inspiration and he sprints up the hill to be first back to the van.

Barry getsride instructions from Michele.

Barry did an alternate ride, riding downhill almost the whole way from Sarule to San Vero, via Santu Lussurghiu and Milis (where he discovers a revelational gellateria), and is waiting for us when we arrive.

This was a particularly bad tire day. Michele started it off by pinching his new tube while putting it on, then Oscar blows his tire off the rim by over-inflating it. That night, Steve changes tires and blows out another tube putting one on. Much more of this and we'd have had to go back to Oristano.

Oscar's blowout.

Dinner: chopped asparagus in cream sauce, sweet onions, and an egg dish; linguini with botarga (smoked mullet roe); tomato-and-cucumber salad; giant squid in bed of green peas; oranges topped off with special 2-year-old mirto (that's the most anyone can stand to wait).

At night Eric and Oscar walk downtown to find the supposedly new bar, the Red Room, but don't go in. Oscar finds a circus poster which fits nicely into his bike box, providing the motto for this year's trip: La tradizione continua (see later). The others put on their black T-shirts and go in the van to the Santa Maria festival in nearby Cabras, where they fail to pick up any girls.

155+70-225

Wednesday, May 25th

The Supermercati ISA is the first stop on most of our rides, for bananas and torrone.

Bosa-Alghero-Bosa. Money starts to become a problem. Since we arrived in Cagliari on a Saturday, and the currency exchange keeps banking hours, none of us were able to exchange money. Eric had a few euros, Oscar had even fewer, and only Steve and Barry (whose credit card the bancomats did accept) had money. The Banco di Sardegna in San Vero changes Steve's dollars but declines to cash Oscar's traveler's checks, forcing him to rely on the kindness of strangers (i.e., Barry) for the rest of the trip. A letter of complaint has been sent to both American Express and to Banco di Sardegna. Stay tuned.

Barry and Eric, about to do their own ride from Bosa.

On the way to Bosa, a pretty old touristy coastal town at the mouth of a river, about 40 miles north of San Vero, Michele regales the company with his boundless Sardinian lore. It seems that Sardinia does not produce its own power, but derives all its electricity from a gigantic power cord running under the sea from the Italian mainland. Also, there are no cats on the island, the ecological niche being filled by small dogs, like Daniela's Picchi. The Cheshire cat in Teti apparently doesn't count.

The castle above Bosa, which we pass and surpass on our way up and out of town.

Although the basic ride isn't long (about 60 miles), mile-for-mile this is the hardest ride we do (in my respectful opinion). Eric and Barry opt out and go on their own ride back to San Vero.

Barry had to have his picture taken in front of the S' Hard Rock Café.

We immediately climb straight up out of Bosa for at least 10 km and then stay on top of a seemingly endless wild and rolling plateau, encountering no traffic for the 30 or so km to Villanova Monteleone, where we eat lunch. Then a dramatically steep descent to Alghero, except that Oscar apparently led the group down a wrong fork, leading to a 10 km screamingly steep ÍMichele directs our attention to our overheated rims) shortcut which causes us to miss Alghero (which was Michele's intent anyway). So we were unable to check for Doug's pump at the café this time.

The seacoast from Alghero back to Bosa.

The ride back to Bosa is spectacular, up and down, along the coast, with snakes all over the road, and hordes of German motorcycle riders seeing how fast they can go around curves and whether they can wipe out and fall into the sea. I'd like to see the yearly statistics on motorcycle incidents in Sardinia.

Michele, impatiently waiting for Steve to take a picture.

Steve could absolutely not persuade Oscar to ride back from Bosa to San Vero with him (where is Ruud when you need him?) so he sets out alone, arriving at the agriturismo about 7:00 p.m. From here on, Steve gets to add 40 miles to the distances shown. Steve's problem seems to be that he likes to ride his bike.

Dinner consists of more vegetarian fare for antipasto, plus an amazing dish of braided sheep's innards, sheep liver, and sweetmeats. Main course is veal and cheese roll-ups in grape leaves, followed by chocolate cake and more specially aged two-year-old mirto.

225+50=275

Thursday, May 26th

Busacchi, where Eric takes the sprint (or is this Ula Tirso).

Paulilatino-Ula Tirso-Busacchi-Fordongianu. This short (50-mile) ride was a concession to Eric's leaving that afternoon. It was a new ride for us, combining both pretty mountains and dreary salt-flats. On one of the climbs, Michele imparts the information that the Academy-Award-winning movie "Million Dollar Baby" was filmed in Ula Tirso, where an enthusiastic policeman has waited all day to practice his English and point the way out of town. Eric wins the sprint to Busacchi.

Replenishing water at spring outside Busacchi.

On the way back, we visit Solarussa and Tramatza, hopefully for the last time ever. Steve's riding shows the results of his extra 40 miles the day before, although by next day he is fully recovered.

Eric bids a fond farewell

Lunch on the veranda as Eric leaves, bidding an especially fond farewell to Picchi. We watch a late mountain stage of the Giro d'Italia in the afternoon, in which Ivan Basso, out of serious competition for the overall lead, wins the stage in a solo uphill effort. Savoldelli barely retains the pink jersey over Simoni.

Watching the Giro

Before dinner Steve, Barry, Oscar, and Michele drive to Torre Grande to stare out at the sea and drink a beer (two beers, actually) at a cafe, while admiring the incredibly industrious bar-girl wipe the tables and sweep the floor.

There's not a whole lot to do in Sardinia except ride bikes and stare out into the sea.

The sadness over Eric's departure is partially relieved by a sea-food fest, the first fresh fish we have had all week. Daniela blames it on the Santa Maria festival in Cabras, which shut down all business. Antipasto consists of olives, stuffed mussels, and baby octopi (of which made a very good picture, not included here, but available on his DVD). Pasta is orzo with baby clams. Main course is baked orata (sea bass), prepared in a block of salt (picture of the block of salt also on Steve's DVD). For dessert there is fruit, including a fresh supply of medlars with mirto.

275+50=325

Orata (sea bass), in honor of Eric's departure.

Friday, May 27th

Laconi-Aritzu-Gudoni-Seulo-Laconi. We saved this beautiful mountain-and-valley ride for the last riding day. We did it for the first time last year. Wonderful climbs and descents finishing with about 20 miles of flats terminated by periodic risers, over which last year Ruud took the lead, never relinquishing it, dropping all riders one by one. In a boastful mood, Michele claims that Ruud wouldn't have dropped him this year.

Casa cantoniera across from the spring at the top of the last climb.

Michele tries the Ruud thing this year, but he can't quite lose Oscar, who has devoted his entire ride strategy to keeping Michele's back wheel in view. This leads to a tension-filled uphill twisty ascent to the Laconi sprint sign, which Michlele spots first and takes for a deserved victory. Oscar is convinced that if he had ridden with Michele one more week, he would have brought him down to his own competitive level, and things would have been more even.

Back in Laconi, Oscar rides out of town and back to add two miles to his total, coming to 400 very good miles for the week. In a bar, we have a coke and ice cream and watch the last time trial in the Giro, while the insatiable Steve goes sight-seeing through the back parts of town.

Dinner consists of (antipasto) olives, a cauliflower-cheese-egg dish; (pasta) ravioli with ricotta cheese; and (main course) chunks of wedding pork. Dessert: medlars and oranges, followed by a single serada (sweet cheese pastry), ordinarily consumed by a single person, cut into four pieces for the four of us. Daniela gives presents of homemade preserves to everyone. Steve, Oscar, and Barry pick up their orders of botarga, while Michele comes into possession of an entire wheel of peccorino, which he claims is illegal within the EU. We observe that Daniela has never repeated the same meal twice over the four years we have stayed with her.

Saturday, May 28th

Cagliari-Rome-Philadephia-Pittsburgh. Leaving-taking was a bit awkward, as we had to wake up at 5:00 AM to take our early-morning flights from Cagliari. We made it on board with about 5 minutes to spare, and didn't have the opportunity to say a proper farewell to grumpy Michele, who was busy returning the van and not looking forward to spending most of the day at the airport waiting for his flight to Verona. Michele writes one week later to say that his participation in Grandfondo di Vicenza was terminated by tacks thrown on the road, demonstrating why everyone should always carry a spare and a nice solid frame pump.

Oscar's bike didn't make the flight from Philadelphia, but everyone else's did. His arrived a day late. On the Sunday ride from Pittsburgh Eric shows the benefit of several days of rest, with Oscar dragging badly. Steve tends home fires, but shines on the Sunday ride the following week. In Emily's absence, Oscar hangs the circus poster up in his living room, where it is on semi-permanent view..

The circus poster providing our motto.