Umbrage

Capannole, Tuscana – Citi di Castello, Umbría- Citta attive Corinaldo, Ancona, Italy

Umbría – A region in Italy. The name is derived from the Umbri, an ancient Italic people who inhabited the area.

Umbrage – Deriving from the Latin word for shadow.

Today was about both Umbria and umbrage.

In the ‘90s – after undergrad, but before law school and marriage – I ran our family’s motel for a few years. 

The Willard Munger Inn

At the foot of Spirit Mountain;

Across the street from the zoo; 

And at the end of the Willard Munger Trail.

My Dad was really in charge. He had taken the place over from my Grandpa, who had just turned 81. But my Dad lived in Minneapolis – so I was his manager on the spot. 

We tried a lot of things to make the place work. We re-opened the coffee shop. We had ski packages with Spirit Mountain. We rented bikes for people who wanted to ride the trail. The promotion on that was the idea that you could – with a shuttle – ride the trail “downhill all the way” from the nearby town of Carleton, some fifteen miles away, to the motel. It was a beautiful ride. And it really was a gentle descent pretty much the whole way because the trail was a former railroad grade. 

I tell you all of this because I was thinking about the downhill-all-the-way concept during the latter part of our ride today. 

But that’s skipping way ahead. 

There was a lot of drama before my mind started wandering to these more sanguine thoughts.

We had a good start this morning. We had stayed at Sauro’s campground last night. Sauro “as in Jurassic Park.” Sauro kept telling us this.

Took a while to figure out what he was talking about. Diana finally realized that he was referring to T-Rex and company – the dinosaurs. I guess the name Sauro is kind of like dinosaur. 

Anyway, Sauro was a great camp host. He found us a grill and an electric adapter. He even brought us a table and chairs. And then he took us on a ride in his van to show us the family hotel and restaurant, which was about a mile away – just down the street. His brother runs that place.

Oh, yeah, sorry. We were just leaving Sauro’s after a pretty good oatmeal breakfast. I say “pretty good” because we were a little lacking in the cream department. Why? Because grocery stores in Italy seem to only be open on an appointment basis – and we don’t seem to know how to make an appointment . . .

And today was going to be even worse on the things being open front – being a Sunday and all. So when we left we agreed that we would stop in the first town that we came to – at about 30 miles into the ride. The stores would be open until 1 p.m. and we left at 8:30 – shouldn’t be a problem to go 30 miles in 4+ hours . . .

Soon we’re biking along and commenting on how beautiful everything is. Lush mountain scenes, but with no harsh terrain. Smooth roads with very little traffic.

Shaping up to be a perfect day . . .

But then Google Maps for Bikes chirps at me: “Turn right.”

I look around – a little confused. I guess there is a road going to the right – but instead of pavement there’s some old asphalt mixed with gravel – with some big potholes to boot.

We turn.

The surface isn’t really that bad. We’ve biked on much worse . . . Like in Iowa, or on the ripio in Patagonia. But the road turns and we find ourselves heading straight up a mountain.

Like straight up.

And now it is full-on gravel . . .

We kind of took umbrage to all this . . .

About half-hour later we’ve gone about a mile-and-a-half – but we’ve also gone about 2,000 feet straight up. My ears started popping about half-way. And we’re absolutely drenched in sweat. 

The good news? My goodness is it beautiful on top. Hard as that hill was, the vista reward made it totally worthwhile.

And, better yet, the road turns back to pavement for the descent. It’s one thing to go uphill on gravel. Going downhill in skittery gravel with fully loaded bikes and pretty narrow tires – not so fun . . .

So that first descent was fine. 

But eventually the road turns back to gravel – and, like the last time, decides to go straight up the next mountain.

Only this mountain is not messing around. We’re on a “beyond category” grade (I don’t actually know exactly what this means, but I think they use this term in the Tour de France – and the point is that the grade was f-ING crazy . . .). 

So now we’re going straight up, we’re drenched in sweat yet again, it’s dripping into our eyes so we can barely see, my heart is beating so hard I feel like I’m going to go into cardiac arrest at any moment, and we’re at risk of skittering backwards because of the loose gravel. 

And, of course, just as we reach the absolute worst, steepest grade on the mountain, a van comes up behind us. I was thinking of telling Diana not to move for them, but she’s a little ways behind me, and finding a spare breath is not going to happen. 

“S—t!” she yells – in the panicky voice she reserves for basically any mishap – from the brink-of-death to a mosquito bite…

My normally mild-mannered wife is not happy because, in moving for the van, her wheels became caught up in the skittery gravel and she lost her momentum and had to stop.

In fact, I think you could say that she took umbrage to the situation . . .

Sadly, once you’ve stopped on a hill like this there’s no starting again. 

You’re looking at the walk of shame . . .

But don’t think I’m showing Diana up here. Within 30 seconds the same thing happens to me. The van cruises by – throwing gravel back at us as it spins its way up . . .

I too take umbrage at that van!

We do eventually reach the top. But only after we walk the rest of the way, and I have to go back to help Diana push her bike up in the loose gravel.

And the view is even better than the first one. 

Again, super difficult climb. Same basic formula – low-mileage – lots of elevation gain . . . But such an incredible bargain in terms of return on investment . . .

We take pictures. We drink water. 

And then we check our various instruments. We’ve biked about fifteen miles, we’ve gone up about 2,500 feet, and it’s almost noon. Diana’s says we’ve been averaging about 6 miles per hour for the day.  

Ouch.

Not really that big of a deal – except that we need to cover the next fifteen miles in under an hour. Lest we are left with eating Diana’s rice cakes for lunch and dinner tonight . . . 

Because it’s Sunday in Italy and once things close at 1, that’s it . . .

It’s at this point that things take a turn for the better. 

The road turns back to pavement and we start descending. And descending. And descending some more . . .

Basically the next four hours are spent going downhill. A nice gentle grade – not like so many downhills, where all the elevation is wasted on braking . . . Although we do end up stopping for some mandatory pictures . . .

Anyway, thanks to all this descending we end up making it to the grocery store with like seven minutes to spare. 

Thank God! 

Because after that things were really shut down. Diana and I agreed that when you’re in a more touristy area you don’t always notice this phenomenon. Diana pointed out that last Sunday we were in Nice – so, of course, with all the tourists around, things were open after 1.

Not so today . . . I guess Umbria is not Nice . . .

And we did a pretty good job with our sprint around the grocery store. Let’s see, proscuito, a one-euro box of red wine, cherry tomatoes, an apple, salad stuff, a pear, cream – you have to have cream – yogurt, mushrooms, basil, mint, two different types of cheese, and penne.

Everything you need for a great Italian pasta dish.

Only problem? As usual, we forgot to weigh all the produce. In Europe you get a lot of demerits for forgetting to weigh and price the fruit and vegetables. The cashier ended up having to do it herself. Which sounds normal – except that there is no scale at the cash register; she had to go back to the produce section of the store to do it . . . Not sure why the Europeans think that this is easier – but I guess they rely on the competence and conscientiousness of their shoppers.

So far, we’ve been neither . . .

I think the cashier took umbrage at our incompetence . . . Especially because it was well after 1 – when she was supposed to be done and gone. 

But back to the riding… The great thing is that the road kept going down even after the grocery store. Yes, there were a few little bumps – but, really, we pretty much enjoyed a few straight hours of descent. Pretty nice afternoon. 

It was at this point that I kept thinking how this ride was downhill-all-the-way – and that’s what brought me back to my days running the motel . . .

Okay, another little side note here . . .

We actually saw some wildlife today. 

First deer since, I think, Texas. I mean, we have seen lots of deer crossing type signs. Not sure what they’re referring to – but it was good to see that deer actually do exist around here – even if the deer we saw was about half the size of a Minnesota deer . . .

And a hedgehog. Granted, the hedgehog was dead – but it’s the thought that counts . . . Or something like that . . . 

Hedgehogs are cool. Didn’t really realize that they are prickly – like a mini-porcupine. And it’s interesting, their underside is not prickly – but it’s pretty clear that they just curl up in a ball when they’re attacked:

“You want to mess with me? Go ahead, give it a try. See if you like eating what amounts to a thorn bush . . .”

And a bunch of lizards. No good pictures except for this green one that Diana ran over . . .

I think the hedgehog and the lizard might take umbrage at this story . . .

Okay, sorry. Back to our narrative . . .

Seems so happy – just coast right to the campground . . .

If only . . .

We get there, and there’s the sign and everything. All good. Except the road to the campground is the steepest grade of the day – straight down, and, of course, loose gravel. 

But whatever. Can’t be far. 

It’s hot and we just want to be done at this point. 

Down, down, down we go . . . The hills around here are crazy. 

Eventually we get to the bottom. It’s a little bit concerning that there are no cars around, no motor homes, no RVs . . . 

Sure enough, I talk to someone there – who turns out to be the owner – he’s working on their pool – and they’re closed. They don’t open for a few weeks . . .

I ask if we can stay in our tent anyway . . . Maybe just over in a corner or something…

“No, we have a wedding coming up, I have to mow the lawn, . . .”

”Would have been great if you had a closed sign at the top of the hill,” I point out . . .

Diana adds that there is no indication of this closure on the website either . . .

We take umbrage at that!

We bike up out of there. 

Once up, we find a little spot of shade and make a new plan. Another campsite – this one with horses and donkeys and chickens and stuff. About six miles down the road. 

But now my rear derailleur is not working. I’m stuck in the easiest cog. This day is not going in a good direction . . . 

And I take umbrage at that . . .

At first I think I broke my derailleur cable, but then I realize that I was able to switch into the easiest cog – I just can’t switch back out of it . . . So probably not the cable, because otherwise I wouldn’t be able to switch gears at all.

We bike along for a while and I’m worried that my brake caliper thing is broken. I’m kind of panicking about where we’re going to get a new one. Eventually, though, I figure out the real problem. About 7,000 miles ago I lost this tiny little set screw on this little cover plate that is part of the brake assembly. Coming back up out of the closed campground on the super steep road I must have pulled hard enough on the handlebars that I pulled that plate – that is no longer held by the set screw – out of place – enough so that it is interfering with the shifting.  I pull the plate off altogether…

Voi la! Back in business. 

We eventually do make it to the new campground – and all is good. 

We make dinner, complete with cilantro growing in a huge cilantro field that we saw along the way,

and rosemary growing on rosemary bushes (another thing we take umbrage at – how come we can’t have rosemary bushes growing wild in our yard in Minnesota!?!). Oh, and we picked some cherries along the way as well. Any day with three foragings is a good  day . . .

There may have been a few things that irritated us – gave us umbrage – around here – but Umbria is amazing! Maybe in the top three rides of all time!

Tomorrow – short ride to Ancona, where we catch an overnight ferry to Croatia. Ancona itself is supposed to be pretty cool. We’ll see. 

And then it’s on to the Balkans.

Postscript: We found out this morning that the steep gravel hill campground is run by a Dutch guy who only rents to Dutch people. No wonder…