I woke up to the sound of the nearby river rushing past my tent. The sun was out and my sleep was a lot more bearable than the freezing one previous. My day began like crystal maze with a personal physical challenge. I knew the sausages the night before we're a bad idea and now I was going to have to pay for it. Just a quick warning, toilet story coming up so skip to the next paragraph if you're easily grossed out or you want to keep the angelic persona of me (that is, if I even had one to start) As I realised late last night I was actually on the out skirts of a camping site so I thought this should be no trouble whatsoever. I resisted the bushes as there would surely be a toilet block on site. I went for a little walk or should i say, a wee waddle and sure enough there were. Get in there, went to the first toilet, locked. So went to the ladies instead. In my time in this area of Europe I've realised it's ok to use both and everybody does. Most of the toilets have a communal sink and stand up toilet area anyway with just two separate cubicles. So got in the ladies, no paper. Brilliant I thought, but there was one more block about 50 metres away so I went for a quick hobble to this one. In the men's, no paper, what sort of camp site is this! In the woman's, no paper again but by this time I had to go so just went with it and decided on an exit strategy whilst sat down. I should've just gone in the bushes I thought, at least I would've had resources at my disposal, could've used the bandage again or at worst the freezing cold river was a better option as to the situation I've found myself in now! After all business was finished and I had established there was nothing I could use in the cubicle I thought a quick dash to the showers next door would be the best solution. There was a man waiting outside, he didn't care about using the woman's either so with my best John Wayne impression, I gave him a nod and walked around to the showers. Typical, they were on the meter but I tried it anyway and without any money in the machine it would allow you a fine dribble. My experience travelling through Asia had led me to this situation and even though this was not Asia, Italy was proving to be up there with the most unhygienic. A few handfuls later I was done but still had nothing to dry with. This is where my choice to wear black clothes that has been questioned by many due to the heat I will experience, has come up trumps. Put it this way, ask any lady with a more fuller more curvaceous figure, black hides a world of sins. I hastily walked back to the bike to grab my one remaining bar of soap as I left my first at the office of SCORT. Got straight down to the river and scrubbed my hand with more intensity than the British Curling team. The river was absolutely freezing as its coming straight off the mountain so it did a good job in numbing my hand and numbing the shameful act that no person should go through at 8 in the morning.
After that, it was all down hill really. No literally it was all down hill! 50km all the way to Merano without using the pedals. There was a cycle path that ran straight down the middle of the valley with the river running one side and Orchards the other. Every now and then you would have to cross over the river or ride across cobble streets through a little village to get back on the tarmac cycle path the otherside. It was a very relaxing and pleasant ride that was a reward for the hard work i had put in over the last 2 days. I passed about 100 cyclists today and have given up nodding to everyone. I must've received about 5 nods back and my dislike for road cyclists continues as they don't ride in single file, they are very impatient and when they approach from behind they dont say anything. I have experimented today with the best alerts as I don't have a bell. I've whistled but found that too rude, I've sung or coughed rather loudly on approach but that doesn't seem to provoke urgency to get out the way. In the end I have resorted to my own human horn. Those of you that know me, know that I can make a comedic clown horn noise with my mouth, so for the last 2 hours I've been honking at people of all ages as I powered down into Merano.
I'm still unsure of the language. I bought a baguette and the man said hello (English), then the price came to ein euro funf und neunzig (German) then he said gracie (Italian) and then ciao (which is what they've been saying in Switzerland!) So I'm just sticking to pointing and drawing pictures put it that way.
At lunch i sat down and took in the surroundings. Merano is quite a nice place, i would've taken a few more pictures had the batteries on my camera not ran out. I think i would go back to Merano when i'm pushing 70, its that sort of place. I would also make sure i'm in a wheelchair with a fit person to push me or fit enough to handle the unbearable cobble streets which are the subject of a complaint of mine. Not only are they a pain to produce individually, a time drain to build and an all round liability to last any longer than 10 years. They're also a pain in the rear end for cyclist and possible bike breaker and a severe tripping hazard for the likes of old people and my mum (who tends to trip on flat land) O.K they look nicer than tarmac but come on, lets be practical! After my lunch I went on the search for a bike shop or velo shop. The first I found looked promising. It was big, had a lot of bikes, alot of accessories and it even had a front rack! Unfortunately not one that would fit Nigel but the man from the shop showed me another shop opposite that would open up again at half 2. I waited for 40 minutes or so and then I gave the second shop, seventh in total, a punt. First impressions promising, they had a rack that I could work with. I kept the parts from the two previous broken racks so I had nuts, bolts and brackets up to my ears I just had to make sure it would be strong enough and not rattle like the last. The lady at the shop was very helpful, she kept going back into the store room to see what she had lying around. In the end I had a choice of three, one I could work with but wasn't perfect as it was for bikes with front suspension, second two small but the third, the third! As if this is some kind of children's fairy tale, the third was just right. I had eventually found a shiny new bracket that I fitted there in the shop whilst talking to the owner about football and Southampton etc. I was on top of the world when I had finally screwed it all together and boy was it solid. As I went to thank the owner Helmut, with all of my heart he was actually searching events in Southampton. I think when I get back he should come over to stay because when I asked how much it cost he said absolutely nothing! Unbelievable! Such a nice guy and also a massive thanks goes to the other workers as I think I was getting in their way a little when I was fitting the rack in their busy shop. "Hey English boy, you need to move." kind of gave me the impression I was in the way. As I left Bikepoint in Merano I was just a ball of happiness, I didn't care where I was cycling too. I pumped up both tyres with the luxury of free air and set out for Bolzano. I am effectively following the river all the way to the mouth so riding was again very easy. Surrounded by orchards with the sun setting to my right and Nigel with a new sturdy front rack I felt on top of the world. Oncoming cyclists still posed a slight problem as i'm certain Italians are the least vigilant people on the planet. Not just because one trashed my water bottle but a group of them (road cyclists specifically travel in pairs or herds) did not see a big black mass of bike and bags coming towards them. I shouted something very quickly and English it actually came out sounding Italian and they soon got out the way. One guy who was doing it right though was cycling no handed whilst playing the ukelele, that'll be my next adventure! I didn't manage to get to an area of just farming but found an orchard. There was nobody around and as it started to get quite dark i decided I may have to risk the orchard for the night and get up early tomorrow. Not ideal but I don't know any Italian and Italians haven't a clue where I'm from with my mix match of words so I'm sure ill get away fine in a cloud of confusion. Tomorrow my aim is to get out my pad of local knowledge and phrases that I prepared before I left and wow the locals with my excellent dialect. This should be interesting...
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