Passione Celeste

by Mark Pritchard

  Infused with our caffeine shots we remounted and set off on what was likely to be the longest descent I had ever ridden. The first section of the descent was on fast, smooth, wide, dry roads with excellent visibility ahead. The long sweeping curves meant that it was virtually unnecessary to use the brakes. Instead this was an opportunity to relax and let the Impulso lead the way, finding its own course. It’s hard to express the feelings and sensations of descents like this. I’ve filmed quite a few sections and I hope that the results will better capture what I experienced than I can with mere words.

  After about 20 miles the character of the surrounding countryside changed dramatically. Instead of riding down a wide, gently sloping valley floor, a change in the geology signalled the start of a deep, forested gorge. Now we were on a different sort of descent altogether: narrow roads, tight corners with wet patches in the shade where the sun had yet to penetrate. Riding here required much more concentration and close attention to bike handling. Although it was still about letting the bike do most of the work, it was also about keeping speeds in check. Basically, riding involved pedalling out of a corner into the straights, braking as late as possible, then leaning and freewheeling through the apex of the bend before starting over again. And always trying to look about 20 yards ahead at the line to be followed with an eye open for the possibility of oncoming traffic. Left-hand bends are easier as you can see further round them; with right-hand bends there is always the possibility of the bend tightening up into a curve of 180° – or more! To give this some context, I took less than an hour from the start to the end of the gorge, descending about 3,000 feet over 20 miles. And that included a couple of photo stops.

  We stopped at the bottom of the gorge where the rock faces closed right in and were overhanging the road in places, and for a couple of minutes were almost speechless and drunk on the euphoria of the descent. For me, this had been totally exhilarating. As we gradually recovered the power of speech, the banter turned to suggestions of riding back up to the top and repeating the descent. If only! Sadly, we still had 50 miles to reach our destination plus that extra 10 miles if I was going to knock out another century.

  Emerging from the gorge, the ride took yet another turn. Now we were in a wide-open valley with distant cliffs. Mile-long straights, surrounded by vineyards with occasional small villages where people were lunching outdoors, were the order of the day. And our approach to riding changed too. It was time to go into time trial mode, and the six of us, now resplendent in our yellow tour jerseys, rode wheel to wheel in line in the classic team time trial formation. Amazingly, we were still going gently downhill, and for mile after mile we spun along almost effortlessly at around 20 mph.

  Gradually the outskirts of Perpignan got nearer and nearer and we passed it by heading towards the Mediterranean coastline. Arriving at our destination, Canet-en-Roussillon, we were still a few miles shy of the desired century, so we rode along the coast and back to claim the missing few miles, enabling me to bag my forty-seventh of the year. This ride marked two other significant events, though. In addition to being century #47 in the series, it was also the hundredth century that I had ridden since I started keeping a record of my rides a few years ago. But much more than that, it was a landmark ride for one member of the team. Vincenzo clocked up his first ever century, so I was really pleased for him and proud to have been a part of it. Welcome to the club, Vincenzo!

  As always with the last day of a tour, I have mixed emotions. And the end of this tour is no exception. As I reflect on the last six days, I feel very privileged to have been able to enjoy such spectacular riding and share it with such great friends. As I have already wittered on for far too long, I would just like to say ‘Chapeaux et merci beaucoup mes amis!’ or ‘Sombrero y muchas gracias a mis amigos!’

  14.THAT’S SO LAST CENTURY

  Thursday 13 October 2016, 104 Miles

  Bianchi’s, Bedfordshire Clangers and Chocolate Toothpaste (C#48)

  Since embarking on this Sixty Centuries Series project, I’ve written a few times about the Bianchi family and the special relationship we share with our bikes. Along the way I’ve met quite a lot of my Bianchi cousins and even a few who could be my long-lost brothers and sisters. We mostly all share some celeste DNA, though in the interests of diversity, some of the cousins prefer other colours. What unites us, though, is the love ‒ no, the passion ‒ for Edoardo Bianchi’s legacy, which we guard jealously, value greatly and celebrate joyfully.

  Well, today was a chance to meet some new relatives, a couple of uncles and an aunt. Now, you may be thinking that I’m losing the plot and getting a bit carried away with myself here. But let me reassure you that I am still firmly grounded in reality… I think! On my list of potential century rides was one based mostly in Bedfordshire. A little while ago I discovered that Bianchi’s operation in the UK is based in Bedford, which set a train of thought in motion. How about starting and finishing from their offices?

  At the Cycle Show in Birmingham a few weeks ago I called in at the Bianchi stand and met Aunt Lucia. We had met briefly in 2015 and she also played a vital role in getting me back on the road when my Nirone frame needed to be replaced just a couple of weeks before last year’s Lejog. Lucia introduced me to Uncle Andrew and I made my pitch. Andrew couldn’t have been nicer, and asked me to get in touch with him by email to set something up. I also mentioned that I was planning to write a piece about the history and culture of Bianchi, and he said he knew of another uncle, who was also a colleague, who would be able to look over my draft. And guess what? Uncle Pasq’s surname is Bianchi! How surreal.

  So today I headed over to Bedford and made my way to Bianchi Towers. After some quick ‘Hello’s and bit of discussion about my intended route we gathered outside the office so that Pasq could take a few photos to commemorate the occasion. With darkening skies, I was keen to make a quick start and we agreed to save the chat for my return. Getting through Bedford was very easy, with the aid of some excellent cycle paths. Then it was north to Kimbolton before turning towards Rushden. Along the way I paused at Tillbrook to snatch a photo of The White Horse. I’ll be back here in a few weeks for lunch. It’s about halfway between where my sister and I each live and we meet here from time to time for a goss. If you like a good Sunday roast, this is a great place to indulge. Although I was tempted to cross The White Horse’s threshold it was much too early in the ride to justify, so somewhat reluctantly I got going again.

  Most of the ride now was through a succession of gentle ups and downs. None too steep or long, but enough to give me a reasonable workout. This time last week I remembered that I was riding under blue skies with temperatures in the mid-twenties whilst I was climbing El Canto. What a difference a week makes. Today was much cooler at around 10°C, with a strengthening wind and some heavy showers in the distance. With an amazing stroke of good luck I managed to dodge all the showers.

  Arriving at Ampthill I headed eastwards, and although I was still on relatively minor roads there was a noticeable increase in the volume of traffic, much of it due to the afternoon school run. One of my hopes for the ride had been to buy a Bedfordshire Clanger. This is a traditional dumpling, similar to a pasty, but shaped like a sausage roll with a savoury filling at one end and a sweet one at the other. Originally, Clangers were made with a suet crust, but nowadays apparently a shortcrust pastry is used instead. It was very much a staple in the diet of nineteenth-century agricultural workers. Riding along the High Street at Meppershall I spied a traditional bakery, so I thought my luck would be in. Entering the premises, the person behind the counter gave me a big smile. I bet she was thinking, ‘Hungry cyclist equals big spender.’ So I popped the question: ‘Do you sell Bedfordshire Clangers?’

  ‘No’, came the terse reply, accompanied by a scowl.

  ‘Oh, that’s a shame. Any suggestions where I might get one?’

  ‘Not really, you could try in Bedford.’

 
‘Well, thank you very much.’ And our little exchange ended with said bakery person wishing me ‘the best of British’ in the most insincere tone I think it was possible to muster! So, no Bedfordshire Clanger for me. Not today at least.

  Leaving the bakery and the baker behind me I headed on through Biggleswade (where I have since learnt that I could indeed have bought a Clanger, not dropped one) and St Neots, then I was soon heading back to Bedford and Bianchi Towers where my uncles and aunt were awaiting my arrival. After six plus hours in the cold, with a head cold and riding into what felt like a headwind all the way, I was a tad locked up. With a quick wash, a change of clothes and a warming coffee I began to feel half-human again. So it was with more than a little enthusiasm that I was ready to learn more about the family.

  In a very short time I learned a lot from Pasq about Bianchi’s history. I’m keeping this under wraps for now, as I want to write a ‘special’ on Bianchi’s history and development. Pasq has kindly agreed to give my efforts the once-over; something I hope he doesn’t regret as, based on our brief discussion, I fear I could be a long way off the back of the peloton. Both Lucia and Pasq have long associations with Bedford so were quite amused by my Bedfordshire Clanger experience, and had a lively discussion amongst themselves about where I could buy one. They also told me about another local delicacy: chocolate toothpaste. And readers, Giggle it if you want to know more. I fear that I will have to do a fast hundred here just to burn off the culinary calories on offer.

  Andrew spent some time telling me about Bianchi’s operation in the UK. I learned that they sell around 4,000 (road) bikes a year. That there are 90 dealers across the UK (chains like Evans are considered to be one dealership). The average Bianchi buyer is aged between forty and fifty; 35 per cent are women. Although the facts and numbers are important – this is a business after all ‒ what we spent most time talking about was Bianchi the Brand. I have often said that Bianchi owners share a language, much of which is not spoken but only felt and absorbed. Listening to Andrew was like having unique access to the Bianchi dictionary. At its simplest level, I can use words like ‘reputation’, ‘longevity’, ‘affinity’, ‘passion’, ‘lifestyle’ as examples to articulate what the brand means. But there is always something else that you know is out there, often just beyond reach, that is the unique ingredient in Bianchi DNA. It is something that many other bike manufactures strive to attain, but in my view, never quite manage. And it is the reason why true Bianchistas get such a thrill from their bikes. At a few points during our conversation I really did feel that Uncle Andrew had taken me through a door to another world.

  But all good things come to an end, and I was stunned to see that we had been chatting away for over an hour. At the end of a working day, Andrew had been incredibly generous with his time. And to make the day even more special, Andrew presented me with a superb fine china espresso cup and saucer as a memento of my ride. Grazie mille Andrew, Lucia and Pasq. ‘Passione Celeste!’

  Saturday 15 October 2016, 102 Miles

  Bob Dylan, Rolling Stones, Gardening and a Dark Horse in Breckland (C#49)

  One of the loves of my life is Bob Dylan. Ahem, I’d better rephrase that in case you get the wrong idea about my relationship with His Bobness. What I actually love is his music, and especially his writing, his lyrics. But I do also admire and respect the man and much of what he has achieved. I was delighted to learn that while I was meandering around Bedfordshire last Thursday in search of those elusive Clangers, His Bobness had been awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature. Needless to say, this honour has not been universally welcomed, but then His Bobness has spent a lifetime pushing the boundaries musically. Great art, whether it is visual, written or performed, succeeds when it challenges accepted thinking and encourages us to reconsider what we know, understand and accept.

  Now at this point I guess some of you might be wondering if I have lost the plot. You might even be asking, ‘What did he eat, or perhaps take, for breakfast?’ Well, I can assure you that as far as I’m concerned, I’m still in full possession of all of my faculties. Or at least as many of them as I usually am. Bear with me, readers: all will become clear presently. And the answer to the breakfast question: porridge and a Morning Glory. The latter is a spinach-based smoothie with some added avocado, strawberries, mango and some berries. Yummy!

  Today I decided to try a variation on my route planning and decided to ride the Breckland route in Chris Sidwells’s book. I thought it would be interesting to see how someone else had ridden my local roads. My bike of choice for the ride was my trusty Impulso, which had its last outing just over a week ago when I did a century in Spain on the last day of the Tour of the Pyrenees. The Impulso is probably best described as an entry-level Bianchi. It was chosen for me by Mick Madgett and Aunt Lucia as a replacement for my much-loved Via Nirone 7 frame which, sadly, had to go to the great Bianchi resting place in wherever.

  The Impulso and I have been together for about 15 months and we’ve travelled just over 10,000 miles (the Nirone and I enjoyed a 30,000-mile relationship). We are getting to know and understand each other quite well. With an aluminium frame, the Impulso is a dependable, reliable, and even a solid bike. But it is no slouch, and if we’re in the mood sustained bursts at over 20 mph are not unknown! It runs with a Veloce groupset, as I’ve always been a Campy man. I can’t reconcile riding an Italian heritage bike with anything other than Italian heritage components. The shifters, front and rear mechs are the originals from my Nirone and after 40,000 miles still do the job they are meant to. Well, that’s my take on the relationship. You’ll have to ask the Impulso what she thinks about it. She does tell me that she enjoys our outings, especially the ones in mainland Europe. And she’s usually quite honest with me.

  So off we went on what seemed to me to be a slightly curious route. I’m guessing that Chris Sidwells wanted to showcase as much of the Breckland countryside as he could. After about 20 miles we arrived at the village of Great Hockham where we paused to look at the famous stone. It has become something of a tradition for the stone to be rolled and turned over on special occasions, beginning with Queen Victoria’s Golden Jubilee in 1887. Other occasions have included the Queen’s Silver Jubilee (1977), the 50th anniversary of VE Day, at the millennium, and for the Queen’s Golden Jubilee (2002). In April 2008 it was turned to celebrate the saving from quarrying of the nearby Hockham Woods. It was last moved in 2012 for the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee. I do like a rolling stone!

  From Great Hockham the route then crossed the Army battle area at Stanford before entering Thetford Forest. Now our usual route here is to ride through Santon Downham and into Brandon, but today we turned south-east at Santon Downham and headed to the town of Thetford before turning towards Elveden and then heading back towards Brandon, adding around 10 miles.

  Leaving Brandon with the aid of a tailwind the Impulso and I picked up the pace as we had an appointment. As the route passed close to Daren (Nairo) Morgan’s house I had said we might pass by, wave hello and perhaps even enjoy a swift cuppa. Daren, it seemed, was grounded today and was supposed to be doing something in the garden. The intended brief stop turned into an extended Bianchi chat. Daren was clearly glad of any excuse to escape from the gardening and even offered me one more cup of coffee in an attempt to persuade me to linger. As we still had 40 miles to ride I passed on that, and we were soon pressing on once again with the Impulso chuntering something about me being a bit of a malingerer. The cheek!

  Passing to the north of Bury St Edmunds the clouds took on a nasty, threatening, dark shade of grey and we began to fear that we were about to get a soaking. We could even smell the oncoming rain in the air. This was one of the more exposed stretches of the route and I was worried that there was nowhere for us to shelter from the storm. But as luck would have it, the rain passed behind us and we stayed dry.

  Towards the end of our rides there are places we reach that say ‘nearly there’. One of th
ese is a sign for the Dark Horse Restaurant which is about 3 miles from home. But today, in a rather simple twist of fate, the Garmin was claiming that we still had another 20 miles to go! The Dark Horse used to market itself with the slogan ‘Difficult to Find, Hard to Forget’. Hmm, read what you will into that. We then headed on into what looked on the map like an indentation on our conventional route. One bonus, though, was that for the next 5 miles we enjoyed a strengthening tailwind and were able to up the pace. In a slightly euphoric state the ImpuIso and I almost felt that we could ride a million miles.

  But as is usually the case with wind, what goes around comes around, so with a 180° turn we then had to face a full-on headwind for the last 5 miles home. By the time we arrived, my pulse rate had risen, my legs were twinging and my breathing was heavier. So much so that you could say I was blowing in the wind. The Impulso seemed completely untroubled by these efforts.

  This was certainly an enjoyable outing and it was quite interesting to ride on our home patch, but in a rather different way. But what about the link with His Bobness, the Nobel laureate? The more astute of you, and any Dylanologists (yes, such people do exist) will have spotted that I’ve scattered the titles of ten of his songs throughout my account of toady’s ride. How many did you spot? Like His Bobness, who has constantly pushed the boundaries over the last sixty years, I feel that riding offers many opportunities to break new ground on whatever terms you choose: distance, speed, gradient, route and location, to suggest just a few. It’s what keeps me enthusiastic about riding: there’s always a new experience to be found and enjoyed. So until we meet on the road again, ‘Passione Celeste!’

  Monday 17 October 2016, 102 Miles

  Action Man Has Got His Commando Boots On (C#50)

  With the prospect of completing the fiftieth ride in this Sixty Centuries Series, today was a bit like reaching the final part of a long thriller with only a few chapters left to read. So I decided to mark the occasion by riding one of my favourite local rides, to Orford Ness on the coast. This would be the seventh time this year that I’ve ridden there.