Alps 2008
  
 

Day 10

June 28

  
 

After averaging almost a hairpin per mile, I sleep like a dead man. As I tell folks, you don't flick an ST around a curve, you fling it and it can get quite physical. I am up early as usual and open my window to catch the sun as it eases its way over the mountains.

 
 
 
  My room is comfortable enough but not spacious. But then I didn't come to spend a lifetime just a few evenings. I head to the shower, which measures about 26 inches by 26 inches inside - not exactly the sort of place I can stretch out. It takes a few contortions, but I get the job done as it needs to be done.  
 
 
  Since breakfast is a good ways off, I decide I will go downstairs and stretch my legs and get Snow White ready to go. But the front door is locked and my only escape is what appears to be a fire escape. Rather than take a chance on setting off an alarm or something, I head back to the room for a few minutes. I have to chuckle because obviously the 'nanny' police have not told them that you can't lock your guests in like that. I come down about 30 minutes later and the door is open and I can tend to business.  
 
 
  Dave has come down also, and we watch as an angler catches a nice size trout out of the lake. Then we notice what appears to be a game warden (at least that's what we call them back home) surveying the scene. I don't speak Italian but I don't need to - I've seen this sort of deal before and know how it pans out. I sort of feel sorry for the poorly dressed old fisherman, but I guess the rules are the rules and the fish goes back into the water, the poles are gathered up, and he walks off into the distance.  
 
 
  When Dave and I go back into the restaurant, we see our tables with our room numbers on them. And we also notice that we only get two rolls in the basket this morning - no third roll for us to fight about! They are very tasty but sure don't do much to fill in the empty spot. We decide it will be another 'early' lunch for us today also.  
 
 
  Dave has plotted out a 'figure eight' route this morning from John Hermann's book of the Alps, with the village of Corvara as the center. It will not be as long a day since tomorrow we are leaving for Andermatt, Switzerland. We go back over the Falzarego pass on our way to the Valparola Pass. The terrain is decidedly more rugged as the rocks of the Dolomites are fully exposed in this area.  
 
 
  This pass is pretty much deserted this morning but it will be the last one that we find in this condition.  
 
 
 

When we come to the village of Corvara on our way to the we encounter a new species that will prove to plague us all day - 'pedaling bikus midgus arrogantus' - distant relative of the Scottish midges that I encountered on my 2006 ride. Their mark is not to suck your blood as their Scottish cousins, but to suck up your time. They have funny looking coats and tend to swarm up the mountain pass roads and public thoroughfares 4 abreast, oblivious to anything around them. They quite often bring traffic to a complete standstill because of their meandering pace. The streets are clogged with them and we decide to forget the figure eight with this village as the center. I find a pass sign to Pass Gardena that is somewhat traffic free, and we bolt for it. As we make the pass, we notice that with their strange apparatus perched on their heads, these pesky creatures also huddle around pass signs to protect them, leaving their sticky mark and insuring no one else can get close.

 
 
 
  Dave swears that I must have some Lycra on my mirrors as I do battle with these pesky little creatures all day. The ride to Pass Sella has less of the pestilence problem, which is good since the roadway is much narrower.  
 
 
  This pass has more of the vista of the Alpine passes we have seen before, with snow covered mountain peaks in the background.  
 
 
  It peaks just short of 7,400 feet and affords a wonderful view of the another small village sheltered in the valley below.  
 
 
  As we make our way down the back side, I can't but chuckle as the road below reminds me of the hairpins that my momma used to wear in her hair. And it's about as a good a portrait of what an Alpine hairpin looks like as you can get.  
 
 
  Pass Pordoi is another 7,000+ footer and is on the road from Arabba to Val di Fassa. It too is relatively free of Lycra and such - probably because it is the highest paved pass road in the Dolomites. So one would conclude that higher altitudes tend to be more pest free - something to remember at least for future reference!  
 
 
  We decide that this is as good as place as any for lunch and partake of some pizza that is quick and handy. Dave notices that they also have some pretty snazzy desserts and he twists my arm to get one so he won't feel so guilty devouring the confection before him.  
 
 
  I always try to support my friend as best I can, so I force myself to eat a piece of this lovely chocolate cake and wash it down with Diet Coke. This assures a proper chemical reaction to offset the calories of the cake.  
 
 
  Off in the distance is another small chapel with a well worn path. I can only wonder what peace and joy folks have found at this one and what burdens they have been able to leave behind.  
 
 
  We decide at lunch to try a third time to get to the Forcella Lavardet. So Dave plugs it into his GPS as the next destination from where we are.  
 
 
 

The route is quite enjoyable, laying out before us a never-ending stream of mountains and

 
 
 
  the villages that nestle beneath the peaks.  
 
 
  We encounter interesting tunnel configurations which require some careful negotiation since they are one lane around a sharp curve.  
 
 
  Then some tunnels are long and poorly lighted which always make me wonder just what is the road surface beneath my tires really like.  
 
 
  Once again Dave and I get with a rock's throw of Forcella Lavardet according to his GPS - only to be stopped by a fence. Since this is the only other way to get there. We decide it was just not meant for us to see it. But getting there from all three directions was still some great riding.  
 
 
  We make our way back towards Misurina through the small Italian villages carefully, as you never know what might dart out in front you.  
 
 
 

Dave has been hearing some strange noises coming from the rear-end of his ST1100. At first he thinks that it is maybe a rock caught in the caliper but it finally becomes so bad, that we pull off to inspect. When it appears to be something more serious, we have to come up with a plan of action. I counsel him -

"Why don't we get back to the hotel before we do anything serious? If we pull it apart here and can't get it back together, we're in a mess. If it is something bad, at least you are back at the hotel and can deal with it there."

Dave says "You are probably right. We'll just head back easy then."

So he takes the lead and I follow him, looking for anything that I can see that might be a clue.

  
 
 
 

Once we arrive back at the hotel, I tell him -

"Don't worry - I could probably pull the rear wheel off an ST1100 in my sleep. I should have the tools we need in my doctor's bag."

The only thing I miss is the special ratchet wrench I have for the rear caliper stay bolt that I left at home since I'm riding a ST1300. That bolt is usually tucked behind the muffler, but Dave has to loosen the muffler anyway. Before you can say "what happened", we yank the back wheel to do the inspection.

  
 
 
 

When we look at it, we are both shocked. Every time he took his bike into to have the tires replaced, he provided moly 60 paste to the shop to grease the splines. And every time that he did, they assured him that they serviced the police versions and would take care of it. His splines are dry and rusty, with the part in the wheel basically worn mostly away. Upon further inspection, he sees that one of his wheel bearings is completely gone. I tell him -

'It looks like somebody must have pressure washed the internals since there is absolutely no grease in there at all."

"Yes, the Honda shop also supposedly replaced the bearings 20,000 miles ago but now I wonder" he tells me.

"Well, I reckon I'd wonder too! Bearings sure don't normally go that quick" I assure him.

"RedBird's got 120,000+ miles on her with the original wheel bearings."

  
 
 
 

Fortunately, he has roadside recovery, so he rings them up and starts the process of seeing what can be done. I tell him -

"We might as well button it back up, since it will need to be rolling when they load it on the trailer. I think you can make it home all right even with those splines."

Now comes an interesting decision - do I stay here or do I ride on to Andermatt to meet Peter, Fi and Bob? What do I do after that if he can't catch back up with me? I have been thinking in the back of mind all along the way as to what my plan would be if something like this happened, since Dave has the GPS and all of the routes. I guess now I will find out. Since it is Saturday, he knows that he probably will not get his bike picked up until Monday. If they can get the bearing, it will take a day or so. I pull the trigger and decide that I will head for Andermatt tomorrow by myself without a GPS. I'll just have to use those ancient papyrus manuscripts with the squiggly lines on them known as a map. On our way to supper, I stop by a couple of shops, looking for a decent road map of Italy. I finally snag one that should get me where I need to go. Dave and I study it, picking what should be the easiest route to go, avoiding major towns and their complicated junctions. Dave calls Peter and lets him know what is happening and then calls Moff to sort out the situation if he can't catch up with me. With those details taken care of, I order a meal that my wife would be proud of - sauerkraut and wieners. I'm usually not a big fan of sauerkraut since I had to help make so much of it when I was a kid in the country. But this Italian style is quite different and quite good. And since Dave is finally getting rid of me through his careful planning, we decide we might as well celebrate with some desserts. He, always the health conscious one, decides on something with fruit in it. After all, fruit is supposed to be good for your health so they say.

  
 
 
  And to keep up the healthy line taken by him, I decide to order something with fruit in it also - a whopping big banana split!  
 
 
  We manage to polish off our desserts, pay the bill, then waddle back to our hotel rooms. The darkness is slowly overcoming the little town of Misurina as the sun sinks below the mountain tops.  
 
 
 

Dave tells me -

"If you leave around 6 AM, just peck on my door so I can see you off."

"I will do. But probably I'll be out of here before then."

I go ahead and settle up with the hotel clerk who has been so helpful and Dave makes arrangements for a longer stay. Since I will be leaving before the front door is open, he shows me my escape route and assures me that no alarm will go off. I just need to sure that when the door closes I have all of my stuff because there will be no reentry until they unlock the front door. With that taken care of, I wish Dave a good nights rest and I head up to my room. I immediately go into map study mode, memorizing the towns in order of the ride. I've got close to 300 miles to do tomorrow, all on backroads which will include the mother of all hairpin passes - Pass Stelvio. I keep repeating the town names over and over again until I drift off into a fitful slumber.

 
 

Totals For The Day -

Countries - 1 (Italy)

Miles - 145

Passes - 4 (ValParola, Gardena, Sella, Pordoi)(Falzarego & Tre Croci again)

Hairpins - 161