Watching the scenery change on the return train journey from Rome to Milan is quite a bit easier than cycling it over the previous nine days, but travelling by train with two bikes in Italy is not quite as straightforward as we had hoped. Restrictions, changes and logistical challenges have turned the journey north into a twelve-hour-plus exercise in patience. It does, however, provide plenty of time to reflect on the ride...
Fresh tyres hit the sun-drenched tarmac of Milan and we set off south towards Rome. The bikes felt heavier than usual. It took a while to adjust to the extra weight and the prospect of the kilometres ahead. The route initially followed the familiar Naviglio Pavese with the sun hovering above the horizon and large rodents, locally known as Martesana Nutria, frolicking beside the water. As the sun began to disappear behind the River Ticino, we reached Ponte Coperto and stopped to take in a stunning sunset. It was a fitting start to a journey that would take us through some of Italy's finest countryside and more hills than we probably needed.
Leaving Pavia was less idyllic. The road out of the city was horrendous, and the bridge over the Torrente Nure did little to improve our opinion of Italian cycling infrastructure. Is Italy cycle friendly? On this evidence, no.
Things improved considerably once we began following the River Ticino. The route passed through the decaying remnants of a bygone era when boats were king, alternating between gravel and tarmac with hardly another soul sharing the route. After Spessa, we climbed onto a levee where we could see for miles.
The peace was rather more dramatically shattered when we reached the Fiume Lambro. Trucks and HGVs thundered past at breakneck speeds, often only centimetres from our handlebars. Fortunately, the unpleasant section was short-lived and we were soon back on the safety of the levee, following the Ciclovia del Po.
The route eventually brought us to Corte Sant'Andrea, a decaying village where we stopped for lunch at the appropriately named Osteria della Corona. From there we continued along the Po, crossing into Emilia-Romagna before reaching Piacenza. The centre was pleasant enough. The outskirts were another matter entirely. We survived the outer reaches of Piacenza and eventually found ourselves back on quiet tarmac and gravel, passing through a succession of small, non-descript villages until, sun-kissed and weary, we reached Fiorenzuola d'Arda.
South of Fidenza, the landscape began to change. The flat arable countryside gave way to increasingly undulating terrain, and the cycling became a mixture of gravel tracks, winding roads and the sort of climbs that look considerably less intimidating when viewed from the bottom.
Weaving our way across the landscape, we eventually reached the River Taro and crossed towards Fornovo di Taro. A leisurely lunch in La Salita seemed like a good idea at the time. The name means "the climb" in English, which turned out to be an unusually accurate description of what came next.
The road climbed steeply and seemingly without end. Every time we thought the descent was about to start, another turn revealed yet more near-vertical tarmac. Eventually, without warning and rather like the first poop of the day, we came flying downhill. The joy lasted for only three kilometres before the sweat-inducing climbing began again.
The reward for all this exertion was an effortless descent to Berceto, followed by the steady climb towards the Passo della Cisa. From there, pedalling became largely optional as we cashed in all the metres that had been fought for during the preceding climbs, descending towards Pontremoli.
The mountains and valleys that followed provided some of the most enjoyable riding of the trip. We wiggled up and down the valley walls alongside the Fiume Magra towards Aulla, stopping for a superb lunch of Testaroli, the local pasta flatbreads. Refuelled, we tackled the lung-busting climb to Ponzanello. The effort was rewarded with stunning views out to sea and another pedal-free descent towards Sarzana.
The landscape continued to change as we moved towards Tuscany. The first 20 kilometres of one section were frustratingly stop-start, with bike repairs and an overcrowded cycle path conspiring to slow us down. Eventually, however, we found our rhythm and began heading inland and upwards towards Pietrasanta.
The route weaved through industrial estates before joining the River Camaiore and then dancing around the Via Bellosguardo. The hairpins leading to Montemagno provided increasingly beautiful vistas, while the slightly downhill camber beyond Montemagno gave our tired legs a welcome boost. That boost was very much needed for the climb to Piazzano.
Reaching the summit should have been a moment of pure jubilation, but the discovery of our first puncture of the trip put a slight dampener on things. Order was quickly restored and we were soon descending towards the River Serchio. After following the river for a few kilometres, we crossed into Lucca for a well-earned lunch.
From there, the route became as varied as it was enjoyable. We zipped through villages, flew through forests and slipped down singletracks before eventually finding ourselves perched on top of a knoll in the small walled medieval town of San Miniato.
The Via Francigena then became our companion. Like cicadas emerging from their chrysalises at random times, the pilgrims somehow managed to converge on the route at roughly the same time every morning. Freewheeling past them on the way down into the valley, a certain degree of smugness set in. That smugness disappeared after Castelfiorentino, when the road turned upwards and we began the climb towards Gambassi Terme.
The hilltop village was a welcome sight at the top, and from there we continued along the ridge until the stunning skyline of San Gimignano appeared. We turned left to avoid the tonnes of tourists and continued across the undulating landscape before leaving the asphalt behind. An enjoyable off-road section eventually brought us to lunch at Castello di Fulignano.
The extra weight of lunch helped maintain our downhill momentum towards Poggibonsi. Better still, we joined an old railway line converted into a cycle path, which allowed us to eat up the kilometres before returning to the tarmac for the final push towards Siena.
Siena provided a welcome opportunity to stop pedalling for a while, although a day off did not necessarily mean that our bodies had forgotten what we had put them through. By the time we climbed back onto the bikes, my tender tushy was already dreading the saddle. The first few hundred metres through the old part of Siena were not the smoothest and did little to improve matters. The grey clouds overhead provided another ominous sign that things could take a turn for the worse.
Fortunately, the route initially descended towards the River Arbia, which we crisscrossed several times as we rode down the valley. We then veered away from the river towards Castello Tricerchi, following an undulating route towards San Quirico d'Orcia. After lunch, another climb and descent took us across the SR2 and onto the plain before the final climb towards Contignano.
Slow and steady, we ground our way upwards. The ridge then rose and fell by tens of metres for another 12 kilometres before we reached the road junction below Radicofani. Once again, we ground our pedals slowly onwards, passing beneath the imposing Fortezza di Radicofani before reaching the beautiful village itself.
From Radicofani, gravity finally took over. The descent towards Val di Paglia was effortless as we were pulled along the smooth tarmac. For a brief moment, cycling seemed like a very sensible way of travelling.
That bliss was abruptly ended when we joined the busy Via Cassia.
We slogged along the highway with our teeth rattling from every passing HGV. Eventually, we escaped onto a quieter country road towards Pitigliano before continuing along an unpaved road to the wonderful hamlet of Proceno. A brief downhill section was followed by another ascent towards Acquapendente and then onwards to San Lorenzo Nuovo, where we were greeted by a grey, drizzling view of Lake Bolsena.
We dipped over the edge of the ancient volcanic crater and picked up an enjoyable unpaved path with great views across the lake. It eventually led us into Bolsena, where we found somewhere to eat before rejoining the traffic-laden Via Cassia.
Leaving Bolsena behind, we wriggled along the lakeside while our bikes were rocked by every wannabe F1 driver who zoomed past. The long climb to Montefiascone eventually took us away from the lake and, shortly afterwards, we escaped the state road once again.
The final stretch towards Viterbo took us onto the ancient paving of the Via Cassia, zigzagging through fields and over one final hilly stretch. From the top, we could see the industrial outskirts of Viterbo. Our wheels did not stop until we reached our bed for the night, tucked neatly inside the medieval walls of the old town.
From Viterbo, we continued towards Sutri before heading on some of the finest roads in Italy to Formello. By now, the end was finally within sight. The final push from Formello brought us onto the final cycle path that would lead us into Rome.
Then, rather anticlimactically, the cycling stopped.
Looking back, though, it feels like we got exactly what we came for: to know the country where we have settled a little better. The route delivered the Italian landscapes we had hoped for, from the flatlands around Milan and the Po to the Apennines, the hills of Tuscany and the volcanic countryside around Lake Bolsena. There were quiet gravel tracks, beautiful country roads, medieval villages, spectacular views and, of course, excellent food.
Now, somewhere north of Rome and still apparently several hours from Milan, the bikes are safely stowed and our legs are beginning to recover. The journey home may be taking longer than expected, but after cycling from Milan to Rome, another few hours on a train seems a small price to pay.
Besides, we have two bikes.
Apparently, that is complicated.
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