On the trail of Fausto Coppi

A chain breaking rider into the amazing Italian countryside from many moons past.

Yeah, it was most definitely one fine Dolcetto, could I maybe try another? If looks could kill! No was the unanimous facial expression rippling across the mugs of the majority of the group. Time was drawing on you see. The autumnal evening sun was slowly but surely sinking low into the vines of the rolling hills of Low Piemonte, and we still had a good hour to ride before we got back home. It was indeed going to be a continuation of our race against time.

We’d stopped off along route at a superb old chateau for a mini tour and wine tasting session. The area is famed for it’s fine wines, and who am I to snub such a gesture as the offer to taste? This was my first visit to this particular slice of Italy, Piemonte and Liguria that is. The Liguria region is a narrow coastal strip, which stretches out from Monte Carlo direction along the northern shores of the Mediterranean to form the Italian Riviera, a chic and rather upmarket fringe of Italy. Piemonte is the rolling country which buffs the northernmost land locked side of Liguria and rolls it’s way out through Torino and on towards the Alps, quite a contrast to Liguria, but also one hell of a place for cycling.

I’d teamed up with the guys from Active People, who are offering training camps and cycling tours in this region. For this particular day they’d arranged a nice little surprise for me; a ride out with Fabrizio, a couple of local girl racers and other friends. A date with two Italian girls, I couldn’t wait! But Fabrizio was the problem, not in the way you’d imagine; no you see he was a double for Paolo Bettini, with legs and lungs to match. Sure enough I’d been told of his short dog hammering prowess, but off the back of a dose of the flu I really wasn’t relishing that side of things, guess I’d just have to stick with the girls then? That one was quashed too when I found out one had just ridden the ladies Giro, and that the other was the regional champ, so suffering looked to be pre booked and non refundable!

Our afternoon ride out was designed by Fabrizio to show me the finest corners of his own back yard, but he still looked way to fit! We’d started out from Serravalle, which is the regional home of cycling. Thankfully it was a fast and flat road out of town, which at least gave us chance to ride in some before we hit the first in a succession of painfully long rolling hills, which when you’re stuck on the front in a half wheeling duel with Fabrizio tend to pass all to quickly. By the end of the first of these climbs I’d got the order of the day. It was going to be fast, there was just the two of us left, with Dave (one of our crew) just tagging on behind. My lungs and legs were going to get a hammering, so I called an unofficial truce, though being Italian Fabrizio didn’t understand this.

We were bound for Gavi, a fortified hill town (at the top of a hill, naturally). This is one of the many local historic sights, all walled castle topped and cobble lined, but our whistle stop schedule meant that there was little time for sight seeing. Moving swiftly on we descended from the small town and wound our way through a series of softly golden vineyards and out towards the rides turning point. For a while the main road dragged us along at lineout pace, and we joined up with a couple more locals to speed things up. This road is used in the annual Milan - San Remo race, which traverses the region before hitting the coastal strip of Liguria. 

The flat respite wasn’t to last long, and we swung sharp right and hit the foot of a monster long grind along a narrow back road and through a maze of sun toasted vines. The light was so soft and welcoming, unlike the climb. But guarded by the evening sun, just over the summit of the climb, was the chateau, and more importantly the wine. The rest was a welcomed one, as would have been another glass or two of the red nectar, but as I said time was tight and night was about to fall.

Oh well, just one more hour of battling and I could sit back and drink Dolcetto till my heart was content! Well, at least that was the plan. Our circular loop was leading us back to Gavi, before taking in the final few kilometre retrace back to base. We were moving well, or should I say fast. Fabrizio and Dave were battling away on each climb, while I stuck like a leech behind them, with tongue dragging grimily on my front tyre. Then with just one climb left to go between us and Gavi we moved into overdrive once more. Out of the saddle my cranks creaked as I dug deep, then chang, or was it ching? I don’t rightly know, but one thing was sure – I’d snapped my chain! Yes, of all the things to do, and not one of us had a chain tool between us, disaster.

It was getting well late, though I have to say that the sunset was truly spectacular, but maybe that wasn’t the best thing to point out at the time. A rescue plan had to be made; there was a bike shop in Gavi, which was about 6 kilometres away, and if we got a move on I could probably reach it before dark, and beat closing time. Meanwhile Fabrizio would ride home to fetch the rescue van for us. Despite my embarrassed pleas the rest of the gang decided to stay with me (though I figure that was just to avoid one last session with Fabrizio). Three of the remaining six kilometres were just about up hill, which meant I had to walk and scoot my bike along, this was surely a sight for sore eyes, but perhaps not quite the best way to impress the two Italian girls, who just looked on with bemused grins. Finally Dave relented to my hopeless scooting and decided to give me a push. 

Those final six kilometres were some of the longest I’d ever scooted, and by the time we reached Gavi it was well and truly dark. We shivered in to the local bike shop and my faithless steed was repaired – free of charge! Now all we had to do was wait for Fabrizio and the rescue bus. I say all, that all was almost an hour. We all sat there on the shop doorstep shivering and cursing (mostly towards me) but eventually our knight in a shining Lycra appeared and all was well again. Boy that Dolcetto tasted better than ever that night, and do you know, the ride just got better with every sip!

Portafino and Camogli

We stayed right on the coast in Camogli, just off the Portafino peninsular. This really is one stunning and colourful coastline. Row after row of high terraced and brightly painted houses with big shutters and colourful personalities are enough to brighten up anyone’s day. Cheerful fishing ports, chateau’s and deserted coves, all washed over with the reliability of the Mediterranean sun and a distinct does of Italian hospitality make this a very welcoming and rewarding place to visit.

Our route

Our route was just a taster of what this region has to offer, and ran out at around 80 kilometres in all; we started from Serravalle, then rode out to Novi (home of Coppi). From there we climbed through the wooded hills to the fortified town of Gavi before winding, in reverse, along part of the Milan – San Remo route to Lerma. We then climbed though a series of vineyards to the medieval town of Tagliolo, where we stopped for a spot of wine tasting at the Castelleto di Tagliolo. From here we looped back round to Voltage, then retraced to Gavi and back to Serravalle to finish up.