The road to Siena

The Road through "La Crete".  It is not as benign as it looks.  Notice the truck on the far left of the picture.  I passed him going up the hill. 

We have made it to Siena, the penultimate hill town.

Unlike the other hill towns we have encountered in Tuscany it is not on a mountain – it is on a hill.  Unlike the other hill towns that are usually organized as a main street with a series of small alleys and roads branching off Siena is organized differently.  The way Siena was planned was to get a pig that had been into the fermented beer mash and follow it around, marking the path, as it tried to cross the top of a hill in search of a comfortable place to sleep it off.  Once that was done the builders got into the wine and built the city.

Picturesque - yes, organized – no.

Telen, unfortunately, picked up a nasty upper respiratory bug and was unable to ride with me from Montalcino to Siena.  I arrived in Siena by bicycle – she arrived by Mercedes.  I am trying to think now why that was considered unfortunate…

The day I left Montalcino was the day spring arrived in Tuscany.  I left Montalcino with all the paraphernalia on that I had been in the habit of wearing on our rides previous.  I had on leg warmers, arm warmers, ear warmers, long-fingered gloves, booties, a fleece shirt and a jersey over top.  I looked as if I was headed to Antarctica.  About 15 km into the trip I arrived at an Abbey where I ducked into the washroom and came out sans everything but the shorts, and jersey.  It was already 20^o.  I felt about 10 kg lighter although my pack felt 10 kg heavier.

The La Crete area between Montalcino and Siena

The ride to Siena was a challenge at times.   Although I will admit that riding in Tuscany in general was a challenge at times.  Leaving Montalcino was a 9 km downhill ride and since I am a very cautious downhiller by the time I got to the bottom my forearms were aching from squeezing the brakes and I was afraid the brake pads were going to spontaneously combust.  Shortly thereafter there was a 7 km uphill.   I was afraid my quads were going to spontaneously combust.  

So, I kept warm.

At one point on the ride a couple of dogs came running over to the side of the road barking at me like I was a pork chop.  I happened to be feeling pretty cocky at that point (they were behind a fence) so I barked back in my deepest, most threatening manner.  That stopped the barking suddenly as the dogs just stared at me and then they looked at each other in confusion. 

“What did he just say?”

“Something about a toaster, I think.  Foreigners!  Probably Canadian with that atrocious accent!”

Home of the confused dogs.  Notice the olive trees in the foreground

I finally came to the top of hill and saw Siena off in the distance looking like the Emerald City.  There were no hills between Siena and me and it looked like a straight shot to a soft chair, food and water.   So why was the road turning away from the nice flat prairie and heading from those nasty looking hills?  Italians – sadistic bunch!

Lunch break on the road - at Asciano

The last stretch to Siena was on a major road.  The instructions on my itinerary/map said, ”Is traffic road but ok, you have shoulder” The instructions were correct.   I do have shoulder – in fact I have 2- albeit narrow ones.  The road, however, did not.  I was at the mercy of the notorious Italian drivers.  But let me tell you about Italian drivers.  If you are in another car you are fair game and Lord have mercy on your soul!  If you are on a bicycle they treat you as if you could strike them down with lightning.  I was impressed with the courtesy they accorded me as I grunted, panted and sweated along their highway.

I rolled into Siena via the Porte Pispini and off the edge of my road map.  Now I had to find my way to our accommodation, Telen, food and a soft chair.   The tour company had given me a map of Siena with little tiny, itty-bitty, writing on it and a highlighted route to our hotel.  With my 61-year-old eyes it looked to me like a dirty piece of paper with a yellowish streak on it.  Not good.

Then I remembered that somewhere in my over-loaded pack was a pair of reading glasses.  I don’t have that kind of forethought.  That had to be Telen’s idea.  So I sat on the side of the road and pulled everything out of my pack and, sure enough, on the bottom of the pack was a pair of sweat-marinated reading glasses that had a large scratch across the visual field but were serviceable nonetheless.  So I read the map and saw the name of the street I was supposedly on and looked around for the street sign.  In these medieval hill towns the street signs are carved into the sides of the stone buildings.   The only sign I could see did not correspond to anything I had on the map.

Unlike the Emerald City, the streets of which are paved with gold, the streets of Siena are cobbled.  I was riding a road bike with narrow tires and very high tire pressure.  That meant that as I rode the streets of Siena my teeth chattered and my eyes shook. Finding my way by looking at streets signs carved occasionally into the sides of buildings was like trying to read a book while operating a jack-hammer.  However, between stopping at various intersections, switching glasses back and forth and sheer dumb luck I found approximately where the hotel was.   No hotel, however.

At that point I got a text from Telen asking me where I was – she was waiting for me at the Porte Pispini.  I have this little cheap utility phone with little a little tiny telephone keyboard with little tiny keys.   My hands are best described as early Neanderthal.  So, I tried to text her back but my phone kept making up words that I didn’t want and sending them off.  

“At h ug ug  ug.”

 “I a mbmbmb.”

“I”

So she texted me back saying, “Are you trying to say you are at the hotel?”

“Y, nhn” 

“Did you fall and hit your head on something?”

“N uh uh 23#”

“Ok, I will meet you there”

The hotel was right there.  They just did not have any signs anywhere – just an open door.  Telen arrived about 20 minutes later, showed me the hotel and dug out a luscious picnic lunch.  She is a gem!

Such a sight for sore eyes (and bum)  Telen waiting for me at Siena

Telen writes:

Shortly after arriving in Montalcino by bike, I developed a wicked case of upper respiratory infection.  I had mixed feelings when I saw Rand taking off on his bike to Siena.  On the one hand, I was secretly pleased that I would not have to struggle up those LONG HILLS.  But on the other hand, I would not have the opportunity to share the adventure.  So, I was picked up by Alessandro, in his Mercedes, along with our luggage and off we went to Siena.  Alessandro was another typical Italian man i.e. wearing a suit and tie and very charming.  He owns the gelateria and a wine shop in Montalcino.  He spoke much better English than my Italian so he gave quite a lot of interesting information about the surrounding land and people.  We arrived in Siena after a 45 minute drive with normal breathing and lack of sweat.  Rand arrived by bike after 4 hours, hot, sweaty and hungry.