We love downhills
Date: May 21 2025
We left Pietramala and our hosts — Angela, Biko, and the dogs — with a generous parcel of her lovely cake for later, and began a short, sharp climb to Passo della Raticosa (968 m), on the border of Emilia-Romagna and Tuscany. From the ridge, we looked down into lush valleys, with the Apennines stretching to the horizon, the road was empty, smooth, and downhill all the way, and With not a cloud in the sky and a breeze at our backs it was a perfect day to be on two wheels.
We passed a shrine to San Zanobi and paused to read the story of this 4th/5th-century first Bishop of Florence, who — on this very spot — fought the devil and won with an impressive feat of strength. The resulting cone of rock stood secure for centuries until the Allies took half of it to build the road we were now riding on — finally succeeding where Satan had failed.
More luxurious downhill followed — 900 vertical metres in all — before we veered off-road onto a cycle path with a very Italian interpretation of river crossings: perfectly spaced rocks that we bounced the bikes across, very gingerly.
Through Imola (F1 fans will know we missed the race — and the crowds — by just a day), we continued along a long, ugly, industrial main road to Faenza, home of majolica ware, and the Osteria del Mercato, where I learned what a ragu should taste like.
The next day, while waiting for a train to carry us across the flat and frequently industrial plains, we visited the International Museum of Ceramics. It houses everything from prehistoric pottery to works by Picasso and Chagall, and hosts the biannual international competition I remembered from my own pottery years, 40 or 50 years ago. A stunning copper-red vase — about 500 years old — was a perfect example of what I had once worked toward, and it gave me a Stendhal moment.
The historical pieces were fascinating, the endless halls of chintzy majolica were quickly traversed, and the final gallery of winners from Il Concorso Internazionale delivered some truly breathtaking work. One stunningly simple, majestic form stopped me in my tracks. A museum guard smiled as I crouched low to study its profile, and I envied her being among these pieces every day.
Ancona is a port town, and we’re taking the only ferry available at this time of year — to Split (very briefly), and then to an island, to relax before the Balkan mountains call.
Max elevation: 967 m
Min elevation: 32 m
Total climbing: 659 m
Total descent: -1487 m
Total time: 12:15:52
Battery use: 64%
Well done you two. My gluts ache reading about your climbs. And those descents are terrifying 🚴♀️🚴♂️