'O Sole Mio!'
Day 23 Gap to Monza 341km
45'37.093,009'16.924
First cold night in the tent. This would not have been an issue but for some stupid dog (and his stupid owner for ignoring him) who was barking for ages at 2am and then whimpering there after. I can only assume the dog found it rather cold too. It's a slow start too as I order a new camera from ebay for Abigail to bring to Italy when she flies out to join me along the Amalfi coast in 9 days time, I then leave the internet café and ride into the centre of Gap to make my way out westward. It is market day so I stop and search for something interesting for lunch. A small trailer is racked out with roasted chickens on spits. Nipping to the local patterise I grab a great looking baguette and go back to the spits to buy a sausage to accompany it.
Back on the VFR, the road takes me along an old river basin between two mountain ranges. The mountain sides look different and it takes a while for me to realize that the sides are not covered in a uniform green from evergreen trees.
I have picked a perfect time of the year as the various non-confirous trees are changing colour. Later I'm surprised to see the fields being iregrated but when I come across the lake associated with Savines-le-lac I understand why as the shore of the lake is a long way from the water suggesting little rain has fallen for quite some years. Briancon is next, a ski resort but nothing much else going for it that I can see as I pass through on my way both up and out of France. Just as I'm about to exit France I'm overtaken by a VFR800 with English plates. A couple of miles later I see him stopped, pulling on his waterproofs. I stop to chat to him. Apparently it is always wet on the Italian side of the mountains so he says (it was!). He's an English oil rig worker who does 2 weeks on 4 off and spends his time off in the Southern part of France and uses his VFR to get to the airport to fly to work. He is exactly the guy I need to speak to as not only does he have a VFR but he has been motorbiking around India on a Royal Enfield. With the nugget that I'll have a great time and the VFR will take beating but should be fine I pull on my wet gear also and ride into Italy happier.
To make time to Monza I elect to take the autostrada (the toll road). Now I admit it was quite some engineering feat but I am surprised to have to pay 4.7euro after only 5km and then another 3 more tolls before Turin. Then I have the long very straight A4 to Milliano and Monza. The A4 had alot of roadworks as it is being upgraded at the same time as the high speed train link is installed. Although, Emiliano, the Italian friend I was meeting in Monza, thought it was to line the pockets of the politicians than any structual need. Two my surprise I see two Class combines at work in fields of barley or wheat, considerably late in the year to be harvesting but it is dry and sunny so not an issue. Hence I'd aleady taken my wet gear off when arriving in the centre of Monza. Desparately trying to get to the race track before the placing holding my pass closes I get hit by one serious downpour and have to put the wet over trousers and over gloves back on. After 'making progress' aka weaving and winding my way through the rush hour traffic I arrive in the race track paddock of the Autodrome to find 'Racing Box', the team Emiliano was engineering for in the middle of a bail out situation in the motorhome. Racing Box have 4 cars entered into the International GT class, a Porsche, a Lamborghini and two Vipers. In his engineering role, Emiliano, a thorough Italian who lodged with me during his days with the Benetton F1 Team, is contracted to look after the Porsche race car in terms of setup and race stratgey. The GT class requires two drivers per car usually this consists of a talented young driver and a more 'rotund' mature but very wealthy partner who may not always have the same lap time as his hungrey teammate. And in some cases this can be a very large difference meaning the race strategy can be quite an art!
The race team owner, a 45 year old ex-Formula 3 driver, is interested in my proposed exploits so after a great hospitality meal I'm invited to take my bike into the garage to leave it overnight while I spend the night in a spare bed in Emiliano's hotel room. This comes as quite a relief for the carparks are pure mud by now. The team owner's wife is also interested in the bike and indicates she'd like to pillion with me to India but I decline to follow up the invitation as it did not seem very polite to the team owner to eat his food, use his garage space and then take his wife.
The hotel is in an old yellow building with an inner courtyard in downtown Monza where traffic is prohibited. So it takes some driving around before Emiliano is able to get the car close to the hotel at around 10.30pm. This allows me to catch a glimpse of the Italian youth of the day all gathered in the central square. Surrounded by their step thru scooters. Mostly they are 16 and 17 year olds and it is quite evident that smoking is still cool here as the lit cigarettes are displayed in out stretched hands much like a peacock displays his feathers out stretched for his potential mates to admire.
45'37.093,009'16.924
First cold night in the tent. This would not have been an issue but for some stupid dog (and his stupid owner for ignoring him) who was barking for ages at 2am and then whimpering there after. I can only assume the dog found it rather cold too. It's a slow start too as I order a new camera from ebay for Abigail to bring to Italy when she flies out to join me along the Amalfi coast in 9 days time, I then leave the internet café and ride into the centre of Gap to make my way out westward. It is market day so I stop and search for something interesting for lunch. A small trailer is racked out with roasted chickens on spits. Nipping to the local patterise I grab a great looking baguette and go back to the spits to buy a sausage to accompany it.
Back on the VFR, the road takes me along an old river basin between two mountain ranges. The mountain sides look different and it takes a while for me to realize that the sides are not covered in a uniform green from evergreen trees.
I have picked a perfect time of the year as the various non-confirous trees are changing colour. Later I'm surprised to see the fields being iregrated but when I come across the lake associated with Savines-le-lac I understand why as the shore of the lake is a long way from the water suggesting little rain has fallen for quite some years. Briancon is next, a ski resort but nothing much else going for it that I can see as I pass through on my way both up and out of France. Just as I'm about to exit France I'm overtaken by a VFR800 with English plates. A couple of miles later I see him stopped, pulling on his waterproofs. I stop to chat to him. Apparently it is always wet on the Italian side of the mountains so he says (it was!). He's an English oil rig worker who does 2 weeks on 4 off and spends his time off in the Southern part of France and uses his VFR to get to the airport to fly to work. He is exactly the guy I need to speak to as not only does he have a VFR but he has been motorbiking around India on a Royal Enfield. With the nugget that I'll have a great time and the VFR will take beating but should be fine I pull on my wet gear also and ride into Italy happier.
To make time to Monza I elect to take the autostrada (the toll road). Now I admit it was quite some engineering feat but I am surprised to have to pay 4.7euro after only 5km and then another 3 more tolls before Turin. Then I have the long very straight A4 to Milliano and Monza. The A4 had alot of roadworks as it is being upgraded at the same time as the high speed train link is installed. Although, Emiliano, the Italian friend I was meeting in Monza, thought it was to line the pockets of the politicians than any structual need. Two my surprise I see two Class combines at work in fields of barley or wheat, considerably late in the year to be harvesting but it is dry and sunny so not an issue. Hence I'd aleady taken my wet gear off when arriving in the centre of Monza. Desparately trying to get to the race track before the placing holding my pass closes I get hit by one serious downpour and have to put the wet over trousers and over gloves back on. After 'making progress' aka weaving and winding my way through the rush hour traffic I arrive in the race track paddock of the Autodrome to find 'Racing Box', the team Emiliano was engineering for in the middle of a bail out situation in the motorhome. Racing Box have 4 cars entered into the International GT class, a Porsche, a Lamborghini and two Vipers. In his engineering role, Emiliano, a thorough Italian who lodged with me during his days with the Benetton F1 Team, is contracted to look after the Porsche race car in terms of setup and race stratgey. The GT class requires two drivers per car usually this consists of a talented young driver and a more 'rotund' mature but very wealthy partner who may not always have the same lap time as his hungrey teammate. And in some cases this can be a very large difference meaning the race strategy can be quite an art!
The race team owner, a 45 year old ex-Formula 3 driver, is interested in my proposed exploits so after a great hospitality meal I'm invited to take my bike into the garage to leave it overnight while I spend the night in a spare bed in Emiliano's hotel room. This comes as quite a relief for the carparks are pure mud by now. The team owner's wife is also interested in the bike and indicates she'd like to pillion with me to India but I decline to follow up the invitation as it did not seem very polite to the team owner to eat his food, use his garage space and then take his wife.
The hotel is in an old yellow building with an inner courtyard in downtown Monza where traffic is prohibited. So it takes some driving around before Emiliano is able to get the car close to the hotel at around 10.30pm. This allows me to catch a glimpse of the Italian youth of the day all gathered in the central square. Surrounded by their step thru scooters. Mostly they are 16 and 17 year olds and it is quite evident that smoking is still cool here as the lit cigarettes are displayed in out stretched hands much like a peacock displays his feathers out stretched for his potential mates to admire.
Autodromo Nazionale Monza
Situated north of Milan, near the town of Monza in Italy, lies one of the most historic motor racing circuits in the world, They call it 'La Pista Magica' - the magic race track. It's the home of the legendary 'Tifosi', the Ferrari fans who flock to Monza every year to support their team. The Monza circuit has been the arena of some of the most tragic episodes in Formula One racing, especially in the early years of the world championship. In the 1928 Italian Grand Prix the most serious Italian racing accident to date ended in the death of Italian driver Emilio Materassi along with 27 spectators. Materassi lost control on the 17th lap and was killed instantly when the car crashed into a grandstand. Since those times, modifications have been implemented to improve spectator's safety and reduce curve speed.44'19.033, 009'19.475
Back in the paddock we arrive to perform a warm up run which is 10 mad minutes of frezied activity as the Racing Box has three cars to test and prove all ok for the afternoons race - the fourth car is in the transporter having been crashed heavily during Saturday.
The Open GT class forms part of the FIA world touring car support package and so this is quite a prestigous race for Monza which means there are plenty pretty ladies to watch high stepping through the puddles in their high heels, tight tops and short skirts. This reminds me of some of the finer benefits of working in motorsport.
Wandering around the pits I come across two of the said ladies kindly cleaning a car using their bottoms and a young lad is drawn from the gathering crowd to 'assist!
For the GT race I venture to turn one to watch. The 40min race has a mandatory driver change and it was quite easy to spot the difference in the two drivers within Emiliano's team with one changing down to first at very high revs and pottering through the chicane while the other still going to first was a lot kinder on the motor and looked both smoother and faster. They secured a 12th overall and about what the team expected I gather.
10 Facts (you probably didn't know) about Monza
- Construction began in February 1922. Racing stars Vincenzo Lancia and Felice Nazzaro laid the first stone.
- It took 3500 workmen to complete the job.
- Incredibly the 6.25-mile track was finished by the end of July.
- At the time it was only the third permanent racing circuit in the world, after Brooklands and Indianapolis.
- The track was officially opened on 3rd September 1922.
- The first race was won by Pietro Bordino in a Fiat.
- A week later, on the 10th September 1922, Monza held its first Italian Grand Prix.
- 150,000 people turned out to see Bordino win again.
- Ever since then the second weekend in September has been the Monza weekend.
Day 25 in the underground carpark, Chavri
0km I'm pleased to be able to strip the bike and repair the faulty dash lights in under a couple of hours using only the tools I have carefully preselected and brought with me. So the rest of the day I spent ether walking or reading along the sea front, slightly cursing myself for leaving my trunks in Matt's place while the sea looks so inviting. A few people are sunbathing and swimming but most are over 60 and have that golden but leathery looking skin. As I take respite from the sun a lady in her 70s or 80s wearing a black top and a large black skirt is busy picking seeds from the pine cone trees. As her head scans back and forth before she bends forward while her ample behind goes backwards she reminds me of my youth watching the chickens scratching around the family farmhouse. Matt returns and after a great pizza at a local restaurant, run by an Italian chef and his Mancunean wife, we discuss route options again along with the down pipe diameter variation in the different VFR models until late into the night.
0km I'm pleased to be able to strip the bike and repair the faulty dash lights in under a couple of hours using only the tools I have carefully preselected and brought with me. So the rest of the day I spent ether walking or reading along the sea front, slightly cursing myself for leaving my trunks in Matt's place while the sea looks so inviting. A few people are sunbathing and swimming but most are over 60 and have that golden but leathery looking skin. As I take respite from the sun a lady in her 70s or 80s wearing a black top and a large black skirt is busy picking seeds from the pine cone trees. As her head scans back and forth before she bends forward while her ample behind goes backwards she reminds me of my youth watching the chickens scratching around the family farmhouse. Matt returns and after a great pizza at a local restaurant, run by an Italian chef and his Mancunean wife, we discuss route options again along with the down pipe diameter variation in the different VFR models until late into the night.
Day 26 Tuesday 9 Oct Chaiavari to Modena
281km 44'32.072, 10'52.163
281km 44'32.072, 10'52.163
Whittling is the art of carving shapes out of raw wood, typically performed with a small-bladed pocket knife. Occasionally the terms "whittling" and "carving" are used interchangeably, but they are different arts. Carving employs the use of chisels, gouges, and a mallet, while whittling involves only the use of a knife. Whittling is a custom that has been practiced worldwide for centuries and nowadays is no longer a living, yet it remains a popular hobby, with communities still holding whittling festivals and competitions.
Leaving Matt's as he went to work I ride to Levanto, a small village on the coast with a cove and beach. Again it confirms I am travelling at the best time of year as Levanto appears to be a real tourist trap but it is quiet and is pleasant to explore its small narrow streets without having to push my way through the crowd. I find a bench in one of the no traffic streets and sit to eat my tomatoes and banana, my mid-morning snack for the day. A young guide brings a group of English walkers through. They all carrying aluminium walking sticks, like ski-poles, (I wonder if anyone still whittles sticks?)
A local starts playing an electronic piano in the street to collect tips. The music is quite melancholy although he plays for just two minutes and then rests for five. He is happy and chats to the locals passing. A dog drops a bottle cork on the bench next to me expecting me to throw it, I don't, so it takes it back and goes off. Nothing much happens and that suits me perfectly as I relax with no time pressures. These little moments are part of the trip I find I enjoy more and more as I settle into my way of being.
I spend the night near Modena with my ex-colleague, Jack Lockwood. Jack lives with his family close to Marenello - the Ferrari F1 factory base where he works as the chassis designer.We catch up on old times over a pizza collected from the local restaurant, where Jack is given a free bottle of bubbly as Ferrari won at last weekends race, and we view the plans for their future home; a local barn conversion. Interestingly the barn conversion is more drastic than would be allowed in the UK with windows and doors being added or removed and the roof timbers replaced with new. In fact it sounded if replacing old with new was essential to ensure the property was made earthquake proof.