The Waiter on the Bike

A bit behind on my biking chronicle, but with good reason. Yesterday we biked 100 kilometers. That’s 60 miles! Not bad for seven people in their 70’s!

 

With stops for lunch and water and such, the ride took some 9 hours and we didn’t get to our hotel in Trento until 8:00 or so. Since it was about 85 degrees for most of the day, all opted to shower before dinner and it was like eating in Spain— we finished dinner at 10:30 at night. Along the way of the seemingly endless ride, we passed through so many different little eco-systems, many that felt wholly reminiscent of other places I had biked. The winding switchbacks just like the Slovenian trip when we crossed the border into Italy, the ride along the lake could have been Crystal Lake on the Rails to Trails path up in our summer northern Michigan place, the sweeping views at the top of hillsides similar to moments in our France bike ride, a moment along a river that could have been in Salzburg.

 

No photos to document it all because I finally volunteered to lead the ride, which meant following the orange dot on my phone, cross-checking with its map, listening to the Siri-like voice giving me directions, most of which were either wrong and or just too confusing to follow. The map was a better bet. 

It was the most complex route of all we had taken and often needed “re-calculating” the route, including in busy, trafficked towns.

 

But I liked being out in the lead and rising to the responsibility of getting us where we needed to go. Truth be told, we all underestimated just how long 60 miles was and I thought of the song from Spamelot, “This is the song that never ends,” substituting “trail” for “song.” Near the end (but not near enough!), the tension grew as my phone battery was down to 4%, my electric bike was down to one bar, and my hearing aids (useful to hear the non-useful voice guide) were on the edge of running out. I do believe we could do this trip on regular bikes, clear maps and some better signage and no hearing aids necessary. But when the electronic versions worked, it did make things just a little bit easier.

 

Often at this point in a ride, we would stay two nights at one place, but the next morning, off we went again for another 65 kilometers—about 40 miles— to the next town of Bolzano. Again, temperature in the 80’s and direct sun required many stops in the shade for the needed drink of water. This path was much more straightforward than yesterday’s, parallel to the river the whole way and not crossing and re-crossing over and over again as it did the day before. We arrived at the hotel in Bolzano at the much more reasonable time of 5:00 pm, an hour to shower and then out into this bustling European town with its pedestrian cobblestoned streets, innumerable outdoor cafes and tempting gelaterias (we succumbed). What a pleasure to sit in eat outside in the cooling evening, bodies thoroughly exercised—100 miles in two days!—and feeling permission to eat to our heart’s content. The town abuzz with congenial human conversation and stopping for a moment to just take it all in, it's hard to imagine that there’s so much evil afoot. And why? How simple it would be— how simple it is— to just break bread together and clink glasses and stroll the town with our double-scoop gelato. 

 

And yes, still conflict. I left out the part near the end of the 60-mile ride when I felt unheard and abandoned amidst the tension of my declining electronic charges. I had ridden to the top of the hill and the agreement was to follow me. But when I waited at the top, no one had and the waiting stretched on to 10 or 15 minutes and no attempt to contact me to let me know what was going on. Finally, with my dying phone, I was able to call my wife and she said the group decided to go a different route. Without letting me know in a timely manner. When I rode down the hill to meet them, I didn’t direct my anger at any one person, but made it clear that I was pissed off and sulked for the remaining ride into town. When we finally checked in, all retreated to their rooms with a heavy vibe in the air.

 

But I WhatsApped them all and suggested we meet for dinner, both because we were starving and I wanted to clear the air. So after we all showered and then gathered for dinner, I calmly expressed what happened from my point of view, without blame or shame. Just as I was finishing saying my peace, the vivacious waiter came to set our table and sprinkled flower petals around. It was a perfect gesture to put it all behind us and get on with a lovely outdoor dinner with the best music any restaurant has offered yet—some quiet, recorded guitar music without a thumping beat in earshot.

We left the restaurant in good spirits and then they lifted up higher when the waiter came riding by on his bicycle waving a scarf one of us had left at the table. Such kindness and generosity. So I suggested the photo below. 

 

Tomorrow is a shorter bike ride and then we have two days at the next place. Time to re-group and do a little laundry in the sink.