Today isn't a day like any other. The Giro arrives close to home, but this day isn't special just because of it. It is special also because today the Giro arrives in the lands of the river Piave (holy river of Italy) and because it's the 24th of May. Time doesn't wash away history. The signs remain, and our land is full of them.
For the city of Belluno, it is as if today was Sunday. Or perhaps even better.
For the city of Belluno, it is as if today was Sunday. Or perhaps even better.
I arrive in the city by car, I find a parking lot and I get ready. The bike is OK; rucksack, helmet, a sky without clouds and a lot of sun. The perfect day. I start riding but I avoid the first part of the Giro parcours thanks to a secondary road.
As soon as I start the Nevegal climb, I see just cyclists and dozens of people who are climbing by foot. Around us, just silence. The bikes don't produce noise. When you ride near to a forest, you can hear its voice. That's why woods and mountains are friends to the cyclists.
The road goes slightly uphill and when I reach Castion, the only village between Belluno and Nevegal, I see the true spectacle of the Tour of Italy: the Italy of the Giro. Every house is pink. Colourful balloons, tapes that start from the balconies and arrive on the roads, hundreds of pink ribbons on the gates of the houses and on the smallest trees, lots of Italian flags, people from the village who salute the cyclists even if they're not taking part in any race. Every road, every gate is controlled by an Alpino (translator's note - Alpini are elite mountain warfare soldiers of the Italian Army).
The tough part of the climb starts after the village. I come across Davide Cassani, who stands still at the side of the road, together with his bike. 'Hey Davide' - I tell him - 'the top of the climb is that way, uphill...'. Cassani watches me and laughs, I keep on climbing. With the fatigue comes the heat. As I ride, the Giro cyclists who are getting ready for the time trial ride past me. Michele Scarponi is wearing long trousers. Watching him makes the sun become even hotter. Nibali arrives a few minutes later. My cyclometer never goes beyond the speed of 10 kmph sign and the Giro riders are going twice faster than me.
I reach an old cyclist and I ride past him. I tell him something to encourage him. 'I'm 72 year-old', he answers me. Will I still be a cyclist at that age?
On the road there are many '108' and they're all beautiful. Beautiful and sad.
I ride until I reach the '4 km to go' cartel. Near the road, in the shadow of the understory, a 3 meters tall crucifix. It's the right place.
In the following hours, thousands of people climb the road. In the afternoon the sun burns. The time trial starts. The first cyclist to arrive is overwhelmed by applauses. Lots of applauses for the Italian riders, many whistles for Danilo Di Luca. He played with people's passion and he deserves them. For Nibali and Scarponi the applauses are many and endless. Then something changes in the air.
A thunder makes us hear its voice. The Dolomites become dark. People remain silent, waiting for something. From a curve, two motorbikes belonging to the Police arrive, stop for a few seconds and start off again. We hear another thunder, but the sound isn't coming from the sky. This time it comes from the people on the road under ours. A pink motorbike appears from a curve. From the chaos around it, one could say that an Italian cyclist is approaching, but he would be wrong. Contador dances on his bike as he rides and, while you see him arriving, he's already gone.
After Alberto disappears, the sky gets dark and threatening. Some raindrops make people run. I go down the road slowly because I don't want to run anyone over. The people who go downhill by foot are thousands. Some people salute us from the houses in Castion. 'Unbelievable', you may think, but when you remember that this is a province full of Alpini, things don't look that strange anymore.
I manage to get back to my car. The sky is dark, not like it was in the morning, but the soul is still pink.
Ciao Giro.
-Written by Manuel
Thanks for sharing Manuel, your stories are always so beautiful and interesting to read! :-)
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