Limoncello Toast

And so we come to the end. Our last day of biking, 45 miles in relentless hot sun with 30 seconds of relief in a cool, cool tunnel. Alongside the river, next to the freeway, up into the hills, gravel paths through the woods, beauty before us, beauty behind us, beauty all around us. Back to the same hotel in Toblauch where we started the ride and a final group meal at the same restaurant we had eaten at with a salad bar and of course, 25 different kinds of pizza. A ritual appreciation of each person’s unique contribution to the group venture, recalling some fun and memorable moments—law-abiding Heide ignoring a pedestrian red light, watching the Spurs-Knicks highlights with Gerri and Dennis, Pam dancing with a waiter while I played jazz piano, Terry, Karen and I discovering those three little villages with astounding murals. Then came the phones-out photo-sharing options and a final limoncello toast to what has mostly been a lovely 10 days together.

 

Early this morning, Terry got up to take a train to meet two friends for four more days in this area, Heide took a train to return to her home in Germany, the rest of us have a final day of hanging out, strolling about until the 4 o’clock bus takes us to the airport hotel and we go to the airport the next morning. Karen to San Francisco, Pam to Michigan, Gerri and Dennis to their daughter’s house in Brooklyn, me to New Orleans to begin teaching my Jazz Course. 

At dinner, we also talked about possible places for a next-year’s bike trip, from Albania to New Zealand to Portugal-Spain, so even with two of us about to turn 80 this year and the youngest at 72, we’re still hoping for more of the same. But always looking at “how can we make this even better?,” the group agreed on two things and I have one more of my own.

 

1)   This was the most rigorous ride with three days of 40, 45 and 50 mile rides. Good for the marathon body, but most agreed that distances should be shorter. Especially so we can relax about getting to the hotel by dinner and take some more leisurely time along the way to visit little sites or stop to take photos and identify—and smell—the flowers.

 

2)   Related to that, we agreed without much thought or discussion to not feel rushed in the morning. Our bags always had to be down to the desk by 9:00 am, but we often didn’t leave until 9:30 or 10:00. On the last day, we left at 9:00 and the quality of the early morning air and the sun not yet blazing hot made me think, “Why not leave earlier each day? 7:30 or 8:00, so we can enjoy that morning freshness and relax about the time. Save our “leisure time” for an afternoon at the hotel after we arrive." Most agreed that would have been a good idea.

 

3)   My suggestion, which I would need agreement with beforehand, is to consciously put the damn phones away more. One of our group is seriously addicted and hardly ever had a moment (except riding) when his head was not down looking at the phone and it infected the whole group, I believe. So at least some phoneless meals and again, more thought to asking people for directions rather than depend on Google maps. 

 

Thanks to my wife for beginning this way of being in the world. She gave herself a retirement gift in the Spring of 2017 with her first trip down the Danube to Vienna, then again in 2018 with a Bavarian excursion. I joined her in 2019 in Sweden, the pandemic closed it all down for two years and in 2022, I joined again for a most memorable trip to Puglia, Italy. 2023 I was busy and she went to the Netherlands, 2024 was Slovenia, 2025 was the Dordognes in France and this, my 5^th, was, of course, the Dolomites. Karen is the only one of the group has done all eight, but Terry, Gerri, Dennis and I, alongside other friends who have done three or four, make up the groups that have ranged from four to eight people. I’ve loved traveling throughout Europe (indeed the world) following the opportunities for teaching Orff workshops, but these rides bring me into territory I never would have explored. And gratefully so. 

 

So the day before us, a walk planned to the hut where Gustav Mahler composed and one last day surrounded by these marvelous mountains. I raise my limoncello drink to toast to it all.