Saluzzo galleries

Saluzzo brickwork and cobbles

GLME goodbyes at breakfast and reloading of the bike after a week. Traffic heavy to Innsbruck and then overwhelming the Brenner Pass route, I used the old road but the motorway was mostly a car park. Still many kilometres of filtering bashing car queues down the valley of the river Adige, I was in a pack of four bikes hunting roadspace to our mutual benefit. Brenner (1370 m.) has memories for me from my hitchiking trip round Europe immediately after graduation, I was stuck for a lift for many hours there but when the lift finally arrived, it was a fantastic ride all the way down to Firenze.

Lake Garda

Brenner Pass

GLME goodbyes at breakfast and reloading of the bike after a week. Traffic heavy to Innsbruck and then overwhelming the Brenner Pass route, I used the old road but the motorway was mostly a car park. Still many kilometres of filtering bashing car queues down the valley of the river Adige, I was in a pack of four bikes hunting roadspace to our mutual benefit. Brenner (1370 m.) has memories for me from my hitchiking trip round Europe immediately after graduation, I was stuck for a lift for many hours there but when the lift finally arrived, it was a fantastic ride all the way down to Firenze.


Arrived Riva del Garda hot but dry, leaving the afternoon storms behind in the Alps. The parking here has a couple of dozen motorbikes: I see from my balcony the red light of mine flashing away in the parking amongst them. Most on their way south for their hols, another group out just for the weekend. Not Summercamp but nice to be still among bikers.
Enjoying also seeing so many flowering shrubs and flowering trees as well as the greater diversify in the architecture, the gardens and the people than in Austria.. Importantly for a biker, fantastic to be back in a culture where motorcycles are respected, even adored. The Austrians and Germans won’t make space for motorcyclists and some will block you. The Italian motorists will wave and let you in. Both have their share of dozy or distracted drivers. Hard to move on from Riva del Garda, owls at night, flowers in the sunshine, its climate avoids the worst of the storms in the Eastern Alps and Dolomites above whilst not enduring the baking heat of the plain of the river Po further down; it’s a calming place for rest and reflection, which is why I chose here try and land after the whirlwind that is GLME Summercamp.

Go West!

Out of the mountains so quickly, it's been nearly a fortnight since I saw a flat horizon. Running again down the valley of the river Adige then turning west for the long hot bash across the plain of the river Po, turning away from Venice or Brenner, declining also roads to Firenze or even Milano.
The heat reached 34°C, hot enough but survivable. I saw dust devils whirling in the fields near Verona. Just after crossing the river Po upstream of the confluence with the Trebbia at Piacenza, I found some shade near a small town’s football field for my picnic.
Riding now following names of towns that look like a wine list: Asti, Alba and even Barolo. On a Sunday afternoon, those very wines become a hazard with a number of cars coming towards me fast in the middle of the road with little or no reaction to flashing or horn.
Finally Savigliano and then pretty Saluzzo, its campaniles with their bells and semi-fortified castellos poking above the plain, as do Ely and Chartres cathedrals elsewhere. Hotel in a courtyard off one of the galleried streets and dinner outside in the curious ambience of diners, Ducatis and Harleys, local children playing football and swallows screaming as they cruise the air chasing their insect dinner; plus the local lunatic making imaginary phone calls. Barolo and Dolcetta, stracciatella and semifreddo, all mythic words in the gastronomic dictionary. Prosecco with the antipasti selection and the pasta followed by a glass of Nebbiolo d’Alba with the Secondo Piatti, pork filet with peaches. Yes this is real... the farewell handshake with the chef was strong and warm, it was his Ducati Monster that was parked outside.
In the piazza, on the steps of the XV century orate brick cathedale, a reminder that skinny jeans, fashionable trainers and gym-worked bodies exist. Yes, this ain’t strict and square Austria.
Still 31°C at 10pm but then a peal of distant thunder and a squall of wind. A few spots of rain and everyone scarpers, autumn storms even on the last week of August.
Sunshine in the UK for the British Motorcycle Grand Prix from Silverstone on the web, Cal Crutchlow qualifying number two on the grid but Forza Italia returns for the race... which I don’t want to spoil if you haven’t seen it yet.