Nove Colli 2007. 20/05/07

[-Adam-]

im doing it next year!

[-Adam-]

Posers!

[Andrew G]

Pics not great quality as taken on a throw away camera which really couldn't cope with the very bright sunlight.

Do not approach these men under any circumstances! Sean and Dave, when in Italy....pose.
[img]http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n315/andrewgreen23/Riccione%20May%202007/SeanandDave.jpg[/img]

Where it all began - Pantani's first bike.
[img]http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n315/andrewgreen23/Riccione%20May%202007/Pantanisfirstbike.jpg[/img]

Adrian having just crossed the line, after 10h30 on the bike!
[img]http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n315/andrewgreen23/Riccione%20May%202007/Adriancrossingfinish.jpg[/img]

Sean and Adrian pose and display their wares.
[img]http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n315/andrewgreen23/Riccione%20May%202007/SeanAdrianMedals.jpg[/img]

Adrian and Sean, with Ernesto (hotel owner)
[img]http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n315/andrewgreen23/Riccione%20May%202007/AdrianErnestoSeanpostNC.jpg[/img]

Italians. I'm not saying anymore.
[img]http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n315/andrewgreen23/Riccione%20May%202007/AStyle.jpg[/img]

[-Adam-]

Sounds like a nice little 21st birthday for myself... anyone else interested!?

[Andrew G]

Okay I'm brave/stupid enough, thanks to Sean for the pic this is what I looked like when they'd finished with me at the hospital...








[img]http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n315/andrewgreen23/Riccione%20May%202007/Meposthospital2.jpg[/img]
nice dress and shoes eh
[quote="A J C"]Sounds like a nice little 21st birthday for myself... anyone else interested!?

[-Adam-]

Well i didn't go to hospital, but i suspect they would have had me dressed up similar! Lol

[Sylv]

What next photos of Stu's little problem

[Stu Merckx Man]

well since your asking...

[adrian]

Am now back in Blighty after a week in Switzerland following the fantastic week's riding in Italy. Am planning to put a full report up here, but need a while yet to get my thoughts and recollections together, not to mention place names, gradients and the like.

What it boils down to, though, is that it was the best cycling experience I've ever had and, all other things being equal, I will definitely be going back next year!

[Ian A4size]

Seamus H, far too many graphics/decals on the frame.

[Andrew G]

Cinelli always have those wierd oversized name graphics on their frames, looks very odd. I'm sure I'd read something somewhere about some dubious build quality on there frames too, don't tell Mark the Cannibal eater.

[adrian]

You knew it had to happen. A little later than planned, I'll try to sum up as briefly as possible the amazing experience that was the Nove Colli 2007.

By way of background, some of you may remember that about eight weeks previously, I'd broken my right index finger on a Paul T ride to Bognor, and so hadn't ridden for about eight weeks when I arrived in Riccione for the week leading up to the Nove Colli.

But I felt immediately comfortable on my hired Cannondale Synapse and as the week went on, I felt stronger and stronger, and was having the best time ever riding in the sun in the Italian hills. No time here to adequately describe what a great job they do for you at the Hotel Perla - the facilities and the food were first-rate for cyclists - or the road status enjoyed by cyclists in Italy. Suffice it to say that long before the Sunday of the event, I'd made up my mind to do the long (205km) ride.

On the day itself, after a fitful few hours of sleep, I found myself washed and combed and forcing breakfast down at a sociable 4am. Then it was a quick run through my checklist and time to board the bus that had arrived as if by magic to whisk us to the start. In doing so, we had to dodge the Saturday-night revellers who, the next day, must have imagined they'd dreamt us.

The Nove Colliers from La Squadra Hotel Perla - sadly Andrew, as you know, was not amongst us - mingled amiably with the Canadian women from a neighbouring hotel sharing our bus. But aside from Sean and I discussing the importance of the gentleman cyclist's 'dressing' correctly (and getting overheard), there was little chat on board, as everyone nervously pulled on their arm warmers, watched the sun rise and wondered just what on earth the day had in store.

It was now light but perishing cold as we made our way to the start from the bus's parking spot, already swept along in a torrent of riders. Everyone wore their rain jacket or gilet and was glad of it. Sean and I managed to hook up with David at the start point, and although we'd imagined we'd still be standing long after the start time of 6.30, there was really only time for a couple of hasty photos - Sean managing to snap a couple of Danish girls - and a brief handshake, and we were off. The low roar preceding the sound of thousands of cleats clipping in was one of relief as much as excitement.

Such were the numbers at the start that the three of us were never going to be able to stay together for long, and so it was that within 5 or 10km all three Agreeables were left to mix it unabetted with the polychrome and polyglot throng. But if the massed ranks of cyclists and auxiliary motorbikes hurtling along weren't enough, the roads were lined with locals - bemused and enthusiastic in equal measure - to get the spirits up.

The first 25km were flat as a pancake on an excellent road surface, and everyone took the opportunity not only to warm up but get some quick kms in early on. But this came to an inevitable end as first a crash and then the first climb of the day (at Forlimpopo, if you must know) brought everyone - except the elites, of course, who'd gone off first and had no such problems - to an abrupt standstill. I took my arm warmers off and wolfed down some biscuits.

The first climb of the day turned out not to be the first col. This came at 35km (Polenta) and delivered another surprise to me - I'd never really understood the meaning of col. Now I discovered that the word refers to a flat bit between two peaks. This means double the climbing, double the pleasure. I don't remember too much about the first col, so it can't have been too bad. The dope sheet shows that it was 8km long with a maximum gradient of 13%. It also points out what I was all too well aware of at the time - that there were eight more to come, all with nastier average gradients. I took off my gilet.

Not to worry, though - the legs were feeling good and the lungs and heart working as they should. The sun was getting stronger all the time - even though it wasn't yet 8am - and the palette was running over with vivid greens, yellows and blues.

It was another 25km or so before the next col - Pieve di Rivoschio - and it was here that I was reunited with the black-Condor-shirted David. He seemed to be going well and we both agreed that this was a fine thing indeed to be doing. We both skipped up the 8km quite happily, and enjoyed the reward of the subsequent descent. David decided to skip the first food station, but I wanted to get some more food in my pockets, so I pulled in, resolving to try and catch him up again down the road. I even grabbed an extra energy bar to give him.

But I never got the chance: almost immediately after this, things went wrong. Namely, I made a wrong turn. I don't know how - roads were closed, and junctions were guarded by police and marshals. But somehow I went left at Livarno, taking about seven others with me. It might not have been a big problem, but for the fact that I'd chosen this moment to step up the pace, try and catch David up and generally show off a bit to the people drafting behind me. So by the time it was clear that we'd gone wrong, 12.5km had gone by and had to be retraced - back up the hill. Others in our unhappy group decided to sack it altogether and head back to Cesenático.

I was not best pleased, but I was determined not to lose the head completely - I've done this before and it found that it just saps your legs. So I knuckled down and found my way back to the junction I'd gone wrong at - at last I was back on course. I noted that there was nothing ambiguous about the direction to take, and that no-one else seemed to be agonising about which way to go. Hmm. All this had cost me about an hour and 25km.

My annoyance and disappointment might have been greater had I not felt so good over the next couple of hours. I was aware of passing everyone on the next col - Ciola - and also that I was one of the few people riding and not walking up the steep part of the next, the dreaded Barbotto. I was not only not suffering up the climbs, I was actually enjoying them. And one by one, I was ticking them off.

At 110km came the point where the long and short routes divided - there was to be no turning back. The sun was beating down at this point and everything became a blur of searing light, endless climbs and exhilarating descents, punctuated by incredible amounts of orange quarters and bananas consumed at the many food stops, all of which I made a point of stopping at.

Which was the worst climb? Monte Tiffi is one that stands out - short at only 3km, but 16% a lot of the way and offering no shade. And I'm not ashamed to say that at the top of the next one, Perticara (9km), I had to take my shoes and socks off and get my steaming dogs under the water fountain. O blessed relief.

I pressed on, gaining confidence in the knowledge that the worst was behind me, that I was still going well, and that I was going to finish comfortably. Col number 8 found me at my best - with what I'd estimated to be a gentlish one to finish, followed by a downhill dash home, I thought there was no need to conserve energy any more.

Unfortunately, I learned the value of studying the route the hard way. The 'gentlish' col to finish, up to Gorolo, seemed far longer than its 4km and the 17% section seemed to go on forever. Just before the worst of it, who should I see at the side of the road but David, fixing a puncture. He said he'd had a rough time of it but was OK. I was now starting to worry about missing the bus back to the hotel, so while I'd rather have waited and rode the rest of the way with him, I thought I'd better crack on.

It was now gone 4pm - where had all the time gone? - and I had it in my mind that the bus was leaving at 5pm. As I passed a 30k all'arrivo sign, I thought that I should be fine. But then the road kept rearing up and bringing down the average speed I figured I needed to be safe from gettiing the train back to the hotel.

Finally, we were down on the flat and the town of Cesenático was tantalisingly visible, shimmering in the distance. But the final 15-20km were, frankly, a pain in the neck. Easily the least aesthetically pleasing section of the route, they led through hideous out-of-town-savacentre country, on dual carriageways with traffic thundering by. And into a hot, dusty headwind to boot.

But after what seemed an eternity - I'd been going at max effort for over an hour now - the 1km to go kite appeared, the crowds and activity at the side of the road thickened, and even the odd 'Bravo!' rang out. I crossed the finish line as fast as I could, collecting my Marco Pantani medal and was pleased to be greeted by Sean, Andrew, the lovely Mrs A and the delectable Tami, my erstwhile dinner companion at the Perla.

Got the bus home no problem - they'd been good enough to wait for me - and immediately fell asleep, barely managing to resurface for dinner. Would like to have taken a more active part in the post-ride analysis with the others, but just wasn't really there in any meaningful way. Luckily, had another week's holiday - walking in the Swiss Alps - to look forward to and recover in.

******

The history books will show that I completed the ride in a slightly inglorious 10hrs 30 minute and 54 seconds. But while there's a nagging disappointment that I didn't get as much out as I put in, I feel that there are a lot of positives. One, that the silly wrong turn cost me one hour, disrupted my rhythm and added 25km to my tally - making it 230km for the day. Two, that I stopped at every food stop for about three minutes - I had had six weeks off the bike and was worried that I might run out of gas at the wrong moment, so wanted to keep fuelled up. Three, the various crashes and bottlenecks up ahead cost me a fair bit of time as well. But the great thing I felt as fit and strong as I ever have all the way round, and was able to put down a consistently high wattage for 9.5 hours' riding time. Felt pretty chuffed about that.

So it was a memorable day, one I'm proud to have been a part of, to round off a great week's cycling. Thanks to everyone at the Hotel Perla, and to Sean for suggesting the trip in the first place. Well done to David for getting round well despite feeling so rough, and bad luck to Andrew for crashing out on the first full day of riding - Riccione ain't no place to be if you're not on the bike. Great if you are, though - I'm looking forward to next year already. In the shorter term, there's this Sunday's Essex cyclosportive and then the Dragon Ride at the end of the month - both of which I'll go into with quite a bit of confidence after this experience.

Cheers all

[Brian Nolan]

well done Adrian - great ride & report , excellent stuff ! i would have been going mad after doing that wrong turn. you done really well to keep your head and keep going...

cheers,
brian

[jon avery]

Great write up Adrian, Shame about the wrong turn. still it seems you had a very enjoyable trip well done mate.

[Andrew G]

Great report as ever Mr.A