Tuscany on a Sunday

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How a day changes.

It was so good to get up in the morning, have a wander round town before a big buffet breakfast, put the gear on the bike and get ready to head off for an easy first day.

The four Americans who were at our B&B took off a few minutes before us, and I was all kitted up and just adjusting a few minor things on my bike while Christie was getting ready when crack! I'd been adjusting my seat post and was giving the bolt that last little turn to make sure it was tight and it sheared in half leaving half the bolt in the post and the other half in my hand. This was not good. this was bad.

I looked dumbly at Christie an explained what had happened, she look back at me equally dumbfounded - who'd ever heard of a seat stem bolt shearing? sh ame over to confirm this was indeed what had happened, I continued to stre dumbly at the bolt head in my hand. I even tried putting it back in the fastener to se if it would magically reattach itself. It didn't. This all took about 30 seconds, and then I started swearing. I was not happy.

As I was explaining that I had to get a new bolt from somewhere (but where?) as it was a 5mm bolt. and all the other ones on my bike were 4mm, plus I had to somehow get the broken bit of the bolt out of the fasterner - in short I needed to find a bike shop, two road cyclists came pelting around the corner. I jumped out with my best "mi scusi" to be greeted by that wonderful phrase "english mate, I only speak english". These were a couple of chaps over from England, I explained the situation, and hey looke dequally perplexed, I think I even remember the phrase "whose ever heard of a seat bolt shearing?". Anyway, we all agreed on what needed to be done. I needed a bike shop, and they knew where the nearest one's where ... but it's Sunday. Apparently (and this is important), nothing is open in Italy on a Sunday. In short, their advice was to relax and enjoy myself because I wasn't going anywhere until tommorrow, at which point they headed off on their ride and I went back to swearing.

After a few minutes of this therapeutic practice, we pushed the bikes back into town to see if anything might in fact be open. It wasn't (except cafes). In this situation I tried what any cyclist would. Gaffer tape. I thought lots of gaffer tape might hold the seat up at least enough to get to Montelpuchino. 200 metres further on, I had to accept that I had finally found something that gaffer tape can' fix on a bike.

At this point it had started raining, so Christie wandered off to ask tourist information where we might get a bolt while I sat under a tree staring at my broken bike. Finnally, I decided to at least pull it apart (the great male solution to all mechanicla problems). I also searched both our bikes and found a bolt on Christie's bike which wa just holding on a reflector. I figured it was too narrow, but might fit through and provide enough pressure. So I started to work on the broken it of bolt, but it wasn't budging. A German motorcyclist rocked up, and I explained my problem. He didnòt have any tools, but her was German, so we set about different ways of trying to get it out. Finally, after about 1o minutes I felt it move in my fingers and another 10 minutes later had managed to coax it out. Problem 1 fixed, We then tried several ways to get the new bolt in, but we just couldn't get it tight enough, and I gave up, sat in the rain, and waited for Christie, who returned with no positive news - apaprently everything IS shut on a Sunday.

We started pushing the bikes back to the touris office, when my two british friends came by again. They'd turned around because of the rain (couldn't really be British?) and seing that we'd solved part of the problem, sugested we ask an expat Pom who worked in a cafe nearby if he knew where we might get a bolt. Sure enough he did. At what sounded like BLB's. My British friends (never did get their names) offered to take me there in their car, so Christie and I sat down for a coffee while they went back, had a shower and got the car.

Apparently, it wasn't BNB's, it was Bill's or something (he gave us the owner's name, not the name of the store resulting in us driving up and down the road trying to fiund it). turns out it was a DIY store, and we found it 8 minutes before it closed, they did have a bolt, they had lots of them and after verifying that it was the right one, a mere 1.80Euro later I was back in action.

Returning to the bikes, Christie was on her third latte, so I bought the guys a couple of coffees and we had some lunch ogether (the bill jumps to 25 Euro), fixed the saddle (but wasn't brave enough to give it that extra tightening twist), said our goodbyes and set off 5 hours after we initially intended.

So yes, finally we're riding!!!!

Today was an easy 30km ride, through some of the most beautiful country I have every seen, Southern Tuscany is covered with green wheat fields blowing in the wind, and everywhere you look there are old towns and castles up on the hills. But the main thing that makes it so magical is all of the wild flowers along the side of the road and just everywhere, especially the red flowers (poppies I think). I wish I had a decent camera (for those who didnòt read my first blog entry, my camera went for a swim in Dubai).

Ironically, having come all the way to Cortona to follow the Lonely Planet five day ride from there to Florence, we abandoned their route after just 20kms. On advice from our British friends, we followed some quieter more scenic roads up into Montelpuciano which was the only real climb for the day being about 200 or 300 metres up, up, up. thank god it was a short day.

Accomodation in Montelpuciana was even more expensive than in Cortona (this is not good for our 100 Euro a day budget), but thankfull Christie managed to tak a guy down from 89E to just 70E at one place for bed and breakfast.

We still had the energy in the evening to go for a wander around town, bought a pizza for dinner (with thanks to one of the english speaking patrons there) and ended the day watching CNN news (the earthquake in China had just happened) and eating Piza in bed.

God I love cycling!

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