InGamba – The Magazine 2017 by inGamba Tours

HEAD OF FUN DEVELOPMENT

EMAIL RESPONDER

João Correia

Jon Moss

EDITORIAL DIRECTOR

THE CLOSER

Colin O’Brien

Katie Bolling

JUNIOR STAFF PHOTOGRAPHER

GRAVEL CONSULTANT

Jim Merithew

Ted King

INTERN

ARIZONA BUREAU CHIEF

Cory Farrer

Shasta & Kale Keltz

BOSS

MECHANIC EMERITUS

Beatriz Severes

Helder Gomes

GRAND POOBAH

DITCH DIGGER

Nate Ripperton

Miguel Andrade, #miguelontour

BEST EVER EVER (AFTER COLIN)

FUTURE CRUSHER

Heidi Swift

Elodie, daughter of Lucy and Alessandro

WORD HERDER Tom Vanderbilt

FASHION CONSULTANT Giordana Walker

PIXEL PERFECTIONISTS Jered Gruber Ashley Gruber Paolo Ciaberta

STAGIAIRE Jay Butler

EMOTIONAL GUIDE ORIGINAL DONKEYS Jay Lidell Paul Daniels Pete Giese Paul Thomson

DELIVERY AND DISTRIBUTION Mark Bibbey January Bibbey

SIBERIAN BUREAU Rene Babin

BEER DISTRIBUTOR Paolo Cioni

Ann Edlen

THANK YOU Ed Sheetz, Shwandy, mErCh, Anna, Inga, Morgaro, Andrew Reed, Aaron Olson and Kim Anderson, Fausto Pinarello, Giorgio Andretta, Michil and Mathias Costa, Lorenza Sebasti and Marco Pallanti, Chris Zigmont, Greg Shapleigh, Peter Lago, Nicoló Idlos, Elizabeth Reeder, Dan Hickle, Chris Ritchie, Lisa Colombelli, Laurens ten Dam, Bill Gifford, Bill Strickland, Tiiu McGuire, Manuel Correia, Lee Hutchinson… and The Godfather.

CLIENT #647 Mark Bianchi

ISSUE NUMBER 017 ANNUAL PUBLICATION SAN FRANCISCO INGAMBA.PRO — The Magazine was made possible by the infinite talent and generosity of all the people listed above. Their enthusiasm and willingness to participate is what made this project what it is today. If you are interested in collaborating with inGamba, dis tributing it, or being a part of our projects in the future, please contact us at hello@ingamba.pro

WELCOME – FROM THE DESK OF JOÃO CORREIA Cycling and print have been lifelong loves for me. I gave up racing to go to college, a decision that eventually brought me into the pub lishing world, which in a roundabout way, brought me back to the bike and eventually back into the professional peloton. So it’s funny that after so long, cycling has now lead me back here, to print, and to a little magazine project of my own. Since the beginning of inGamba, I’ve been lucky to work with some incredible writers and photographers who have helped me to tell our stories, reveal the true personalities behind our trips, and to shape the company’s identity. It’s often meant a lot of extra effort, and a lot of companies might not see the value of that kind of added workload, but to me it’s been an integral part of what makes us different. Those crafted, considered images and words have helped us show what inGamba is really like, and to give our friends and guests a feel for what’s waiting for them on their trips. The hope is that if they have a small window into what they are about to experience, then that experience will be richer and more meaningful. With that in mind, I thought it was about time that we all got to gether to create a proper celebration of all the people we meet, the roads we ride, and the adventures we’ll share on an inGamba trip. We’ve grown a lot as a company, but I’m delighted to say that many of the same people have been with me from day one. We’ve added plenty of fresh faces too, and over time we’ve all become friends as well as colleagues, in much the same way as most of our technical partners who contribute so much to the authenticity of our experiences have been with us since the beginning, have become an integral part of what we do. Our business is based on close relationships, not just between peo ple but also between the inGamba team and the places we visit. We’ll never just pick a new location because it’s fashionable. There needs to be a personal affinity and a deep understanding, because life is too short to spend time anywhere you don’t absolutely love. This whole thing is about meaningful connections for me, whether that’s with the local people, the landscape or the food. This magazine is a tribute to all the bonds we’ve made in the past six years – and to the many more that hopefully lay waiting for us down the road. Enjoy, João Correia 9

Illustration by Zio Ziegler

THESE ARE A FEW OF OUR FAVORITE THINGS

PINARELLO F10

20 DAWN PATROL

HEIDI SWIFT

24 AMA: A CHIANTI CLASSIC

BILL GIFFORD

28 PORTUGAL 30 THE WINNING FORMULA

COLIN O’BRIEN

38 TUSCANY 40 TWO-WHEELED CLARITY

TOM VANDERBILT

44 DOLOMITES 46 BORN IN AMERICA, MADE IN ITALY

COLIN O’BRIEN

50 A PLACE CAUGHT IN TIME

JERED & ASHLEY GRUBER

64 ALESSANDRO: OLD WORLD CRAFTSMAN

HEIDI SWIFT

68 PROVENCE 70 COPPI’S SYMPHONY ON THE STELVIO

COLIN O’BRIEN

76 CALIFORNIA 78 THE INGAMBA FAMILY 82 TIRAMISU: THE QUINTESSENTIAL ITALIAN TREAT

MORGARO BARBI

86 TOP TEN TED TIPS

TED KING

90 12 TIPS FOR A PERFECT WEEK 92 FRASI FRASES PHRASES 06 BLOOD, SWEAT & GEARS

THOR HUSHOVD

THESE ARE A FEW OF OUR FAVORITE THINGS We, at inGamba, are lucky enough to have some of the greatest partners in the business. If you want to upgrade your game, check out all this top-shelf swag.

Bar Fly Air Lever Bar fly You got jelly in my peanut butter. No, you got peanut butter in my jelly. The Air Lever is one of those great mashups which was born from an epiphany while standing on the side of the road trying to change a flat in the pouring rain. Why not make a tire lever and CO2 inflator combination which will work with any valve and tire combination. Why not, indeed.

â&#x20AC;&#x201D; barfly.com 12

Atmos X4 iPhone Cases

R1B Uomo Fi’zi:k

Thule

Abraham Lincoln once said: “Be sure you put your feet in the right place, then stand firm.” Was he talking about the R1B Uomo? Probably not, but Fizik’s topo-line kicks are the best place your feet can hope to be in 2017. They integrate everything the company’s learned about fit, comfort, ventilation and power. With its double BOA closure, carbon sole and microfiber upper the R1B is the perfect blend of comfort and power transfer. And they look awesome. We’re sure Abe would approve.

You trust Thule to transport your Pinarello F10 around town and around the country, so why not trust them to protect the computer in your pocket? The Atmos X4 offers optimal protection for you iPhone and its precious screen, while adding the understated and sleek design we have come to love about Thule.

— thule.com

— fizik.com

Luggage Tag Alessandro Stella Alessandro Stella is Italian. He is our friend. He makes things with his hands. He’s a craftsman, nah, an artisan. We wear his shoes. We hold our pants up with his belts. And we asked him to make luggage tags for our guests. They make us happy. We believe they will make you happy, too.

eTAP WiFLi rear derailleur SRAM What could make our beloved eTAP even more amazing? How about a bailout gear for those days when climbing the Passo Giau is not going as well as you had hoped? The new WiFLi rear derailleur allows you to run that lovely 32. Add this little bit of insurance to the crisp shifting, amazing braking and super clean build of your SRAM eTAP equipped whips and 2017 has the potential to be the best riding year ever.

— sram.com

Bidons Elite When you run your touring company with the precision of a World Tour team, you must hydrate your riders like the pros, so we choose Elite water bidons just like Team Sky, Team Lotto Soudal, BMC Racing Team, Team Movistar, Équipe cycliste FDJ, AG2R La Mondiale Team, Orica GreenEdge, Lampre-Merida, Giant-Alpecin, and Katusha.

— elite-it.com

Sunglasses Oakley The new Prizm Road lenses not only allow us to look good, but thanks to the latest lens technology they offer unrivaled clarity even on those days when the light conditions change at every turn. Oakley has fine-tuned their lenses to allow better clarity in both the highlights and the shadows. The Jawbreakers also have the quick change Switchlocks and Unobtanium® earsocks and nosepads. And did we mention how good we look wearing them?

— oakley.com

Corsa Vittoria Regardless of where we’re riding, we know we can depend on the Vittoria Corsa. Riding over the Portuguese rollers of the Alentejo, climbing and descending the Dolomites or ripping down the white roads of Tuscany, these clinchers have taken everything we can throw at them.

— vittoria.com

202 NSW Carbon Clincher Zipp Little needs to be said about the 202 NSW Carbon Clinchers. They are light, strong and with their new improved braking surface, they slow down as well as they speed up. And damn if they don’t look great on our new team bikes.

— zipp.com 15

Race Rain Bag Scicon Our custom Scicon rain bags are roughly the size of a large shoebox and designed to keep you prepared regardless of what the day brings. Some riders keep the bare minimum in their bag, but the sage veteran will effectively keep a spare (or two!) of everything one might need on a long day: shoe covers, leg warmers, knee warmers, an extra baselayer, arm warmers, gloves of all varieties, vests and jackets, neckgaiters, cycling caps, winter beanies and even an extra pair of shoes. This small, unassuming piece of kit is designed to sit in the team car, allowing a level of comfort even on the most uncomfortable of days.

— sciconbags.com

Buffalo Bike World Bicycle Relief We love our Pinarello F10 team bikes, but if you are going to buy just one bike in 2017 we hope it is a WBR Buffalo Bike. For just $147 you can help close the distance to school, work and life in general for people in the developing world. We have seen first hand how this program is having a positive impact in peoples lives and knowing we are part of sharing the Power of the Bicycle with others makes our rides all the more sweet. We donate 2% of all trip sales, and along with generous donations from our guests, the inGamba community has raised over $276,000. Won’t you join us?

— worldbicyclerelief.org

Synthe Helmet Giro If you love it, put a lid on it. And we do. We love it and we love our Giro Synthe team helmets. The Synthe is the perfect combination of aero, lightweight and comfort. And while we appreciate the fact our melon is protected like the gold at Fort Knox, we also appreciate how pro it looks while doing its job.

— giro.com

Oatmeal Raisin Walnut Clif Bar What do we have in our jersey pocket? Clif, of course. Sometimes it’s Margarita Bloks. Sometimes it is a Chocolate Chip Peanut Crunch Bar. If we are going to be out for awhile it could be some Sweet Potato with Sea Salt Organic Energy food. Or a Peanut Butter Mojo Bar. Or a Cashew Kit’s Organic Bar. Ok. So we are not that particular as long as we have some Clif in our pocket, because we then know we’re going to be fed, fueled and ready for what the road has to offer.”

— clifbar.com 17

Dogma F10 Pinarello The F10 is fantastica,” said Eros Poli, of our 2017 team bicycles. “It is amaz ing how Pinarello, every time, can do better.” The F10 is stiffer, lighter and more aerodynamic than the its previous incarnation, while retaining all the ride characteristics we have grown to love.

— pinarello.com

DAWN PATROL Words by Heidi Swift Illustration by Rita Parente

I started waking up before dawn when I was 17 years old. During that summer I worked on the docks down in Seattle alongside my father, who was the line manager. We pro cessed fish in a cavernous, refrigerated space roughly the size of what I imagined a rich person’s “great room” would be. The work, unfortunately, wasn’t great. On our feet for as long as 14 hours, we started at six in the morning, which meant we caught the 4:45am bus from our house in the suburbs in order to arrive in time to don hairnets and arm gaiters before sliding into our respec tive spots on the processing line. The wake up call was ungodly, especially for a teenager, and I routinely stumbled out of the front door in a kind of half-sleep, shuffling along in blue coveralls that smelled of sturgeon and dragging a brown paper bag lunch at my side. But by the time we reached the bus stop, I’d gained enough consciousness to catalog my surroundings. My dad was perpetually lost in a paperback novel. The sky was midnight black, shifting slowly into royals and indigo. I often thought of Sylvia Plath’s line, “The wet dawn inks are doing their blue dissolve.” Dawn was covert in a way that a sunset never is - it tread lightly. It whispered. And at 4:30 in the morning, so did just about everything else.

There was an unspoken reverence for the inky hours just before the sun appeared. The people we encoun tered were kinder, quieter and softer towards us. Devoid of traffic and other forms of human clutter, the world seemed spacious and hopeful. I learned to love the feel of that optimism, the cautious sensation that everything was still possible. In college I took a job at a vegetable stand in Pike Place Market and always requested the opening shift, stacking apples at 6:00am through the winter while my breath ap peared in front of me. Later, when I moved to Portland and didn’t know a soul, I managed my depression by running through the cozy neighborhood streets at 3:30 or 4:00am. Occasionally, I passed another runner and we would nod or wave – a solemn acknowledgement of our solidarity. I didn’t even need to talk to them, but knowing they were out there in the world made me feel less alone than any of the crowded and contrived social gatherings I forced myself to attend. By the time I really started riding bikes, I was almost 30 years old and I’d spent more than a decade enjoying my best hours before first light. It made perfect sense that I would do the bulk of my training in that coveted and star lit timeframe, but I didn’t know many cyclists who were

“I PASSED THROUGH NOISELESSLY, LIKE A GHOST” 22

willing to roll out early enough to be home before the first wave of car commuters even started sipping their coffee, so I rode alone. Traffic didn’t bother me much when I was commuting to and from work, but I couldn’t help but be annoyed by it when I was out on longer journeys. Like many people, I rode for joy and fun, but also release. I pedaled to work out problems, forget about worries, calm my nerves. Being surrounded by cars didn’t facilitate any of that. In fact, it usually made it worse. I liked to get out ahead of the fray. Early mornings in the saddle presented some challeng es, especially in the winter which was my favorite season due to the disappearance of the fair weather crowds. Cycling is colder than running by nature and, despite rela tively low traffic volume, visibility is still of high concern. I bought bright lights, reflective tape and thicker gloves. I wrapped my wool-shod feet in plastic bags before shoving them into winter cycling boots. I filled my water bottle with hot water and packed a small thermos of tea in the center pocket of my jersey. The payoff for my effort was immeasurable. Downtown was silent and motionless, street lights flicking pointless ly through their cycles of red, green and yellow. I passed through noiselessly, like a ghost, on my way into the west hills. I climbed from sea level to 1200 feet under canopies of Douglas Fir, Western Hemlock and Western Red Cedar and listened to the wind in the branches. On Skyline Road clouds loitered low and thick so that the white of my front light cast a perfect cone of illuminated atmosphere in

front of me. When I stopped to drink the tea, my ears were filled with that sound which can so elude us in our daily lives; silence. Pedaling toward home as the sun rises may be the perfect expression of optimism in a world that can feel increasingly bleak. All that road in front of you, all those hours to work towards something better. In the past decade I’ve learned to appreciate the vari ous forms that cycling can take; the gasping agony of a cyclocross race, the spirited camaraderie of a fast group ride, the transcendent zen of a technical mountain bike trail, the rolling lark of a coffee shop ride in the summer. But the pre-dawn solo mission remains the central pillar of my practice. It is an untouchable time of day, protect ed by its apparent absurdity and therefore guarded from interruption, co-option or conflicting responsibilities. Those hours before first light are always there for you quiet and probably cold. These days I have a small crew of Dawn Patrol compan ions. Life has gotten fast and full for all of us with family, parenting and professional ambition. But that window between 4:00 and 7:00am is a sacred portal into another world where we exist without pressures or expectations. Like those mornings at the bus stop with my father, we speak in whispers because it’s the only volume that feels appropriate. And somewhere in that slow blue dissolve, we pedal into hopefulness and happiness the likes of which no amount of therapy, meditation or medication could ever deliver.

Words by Bill Gifford

AMA: A CHIANTI CLASSIC

Often in Chianti, usually when toiling up one of the many local grades, I found myself envying the grapes. They get to sit still, after all, baking in the Gaiolian sun. And even tually they end up as wine. The luckiest ones reside in the vineyards around Lecchi, where most of the local fruit is destined for the stainless-steel fermenters at Castello di Ama, the winery just up the hill. For Ama is not just another Chianti producer, but a very special place. Ama is a tiny hamlet where grapes had been grown for 1,000 years. It had a couple villas, some smaller houses, and a chapel, right on the side of a hill with the usual postcard views. After the war, though, it had emptied out, like a lot of little hamlets in Tuscany. (You can’t eat postcard views.) In the 1970s, when the population of Ama was four, a group of four families from Rome bought the place as a weekend retreat, and they started growing grapes again. They hired a winemaker named Marco Pal lanti, who inevitably fell in love with one of the Roman daughters, Lorenza Sebasti. Castello di Ama was born. Ama is no ordinary winery, that’s obvious the mo ment you step out of the car. As you wander around the grounds, and in many of the buildings, you encounter some of the most astonishing contemporary art instal lations you’ll ever see. Every year, Lorenza and Marco invite an established artist to spend a few months in res

idence at Ama, and then to create a work based on their experience there. The artist leaves, the work stays. (Note to self: Be reincarnated as artist.) “The idea is to start a dialogue between the place and the artist,” says Lorenza. The results of these dialogues are integrated into every corner of the place: in the barrel-aging rooms, among the olive trees, in an under ground cistern, and even a 12th-century chapel, which Anish Kapoor transformed into a mediation on Heaven, Hell, and Hinduism. (Not surprisingly, Raul almost fell into the Underworld). Outside, in a small olive grove, one finds knee-high replicas of the world’s great border walls, from the Great Wall of China to the Berlin Wall to the fence that separates Israel from the West Bank, titled “I Never Want To See My Neighbor Ever Again.” Turns out the artist, Carlos Garraicoa, had a long-simmering feud with his own neighbor back home in Havana, but it’s also fun to be able to just step over the Berlin Wall. But my own favorite work, or works, are also the small est: A sequence of small, witty drawings on the walls inside one of the villas, by Serbian artist Nedko Solakov. He calls them “Amadoodles,” and they pop up wherever he felt inspired to draw (perhaps after a glass or two of the Riserva): above doorways, around electrical plugs, on ceilings, everywhere you look you find some new,

surprising little commentary, one more example of how art makes this place come alive. Oh, and then there’s the wine: The excelent Chiantis, of course (a bottle of which sits, temptingly, on my wine shelf right now), but their other wines are just as much a creative expression as the art on the grounds. Pallanti trained in Bordeaux, so even his Chiantis are not the run-of-the-mill fare, but he’s also introduced “exotic” grapes to the hills. His single-vineyard Merlot, l’Apparita, trumped Petrus in a blind tasting. Not surprising, since Pallanti cloned Merlot vines from Pomerol, which thrived in the stony Ama soil. There’s another, approachable blend called Haiku, and a few interesting single-vineyard offerings, the essential Vinsanto, and even a surprisingly elegant Chardonnay. Wine is not technically a “recovery” beverage, but in Lecchi it will do.

PORTUGAL Welcome to European cycling’s best kept secret. From the cork trees and the arid plains of Ajentejo to the verdant hills of the Douro Valley, where some of the world’s most interesting wines are being made, Portugal is a treasure trove of great riding, diverse culture, rich history and incredible flavors. The variety of riding on offer here is stunning. One day you’ll be rolling along on quiet roads through the country’s agricultural heartland, enjoying the charm and the cuisine of its myriad little towns, while the next you might be working your way through the stunning Serra da Estrela national park, where the country’s highest peak, and all of the stunning views that it entails, awaits you. And farther north, towards Porto, you’re treated to perfect tarmac on empty, winding roads, surrounded by sweeping panoramas of the undulating vineyards that flank the Douro river as it snakes its way out towards the Atlantic.

THE WINNING FORMULA When Giovanni Pinarello opened a small shop in the 1950s, he could never have dreamt that more than 60 years later, his name would be proudly emblazoned on the world’s best bikes. It’s a success story that his son Fausto is very proud of – and one that he’s intent on continuing. Words by Colin O’Brien Photography by Paolo Ciaberta

Fausto Bertoglio won the 1975 Giro d’Italia, and it was like a bolt out of the blue. Even as Eddy Merckx with drew just before the opening stage due to illness, there were still Italy’s last champion Felice Gimondi, the great Roger de Vlaeminck, Spain’s precocious Francisco Galdós and a host of other talents to contend with. In his third year as a professional, Bertoglio wasn’t even the biggest name in his Jolli Ceramica team, and a relative unknown compared to the pre-race favorites. But when his captain, Giovanni Battaglin, failed to take control of the general classification and then inexplicably capitulated just as it looked like the Maglia Rosa might be his, Bertoglio put in the performance of a lifetime, and secured one of cycling’s great prizes on a dramatic final day that finished on top of the Stelvio, perhaps cycling’s most dramatic mountain. It was to be the apex of his career, but for someone else, it was just the first taste of much future glory. Giovanni Pinarello had ridden as a pro after World War II, but without huge success. As a rider, he was best known for winning the cash prize for being the last rider in the 1951 edition of the Giro, for which he was awarded the Maglia Nera. Shrewdly, he used that money to open a bike shop, and so one of cycling’s great brand names was born. Bertoglio’s Giro victory was the first time a rider on a Pinarello bicy cle had made it to the top of a podium in one of cycling’s Grand Tours, but it wouldn’t be the last, and success came quick and fast in the following years, with iconic teams like Inoxpran, Banesto, Del Tongo, and Telekom. Four decades on from that debut Giro win, and Giovan ni is sadly no longer with us. One of cycling’s most iconic figures, he lived to be 92 and could be seen on a bike well into his 80s. In his lifetime he saw his business grow from a small shop in his native Treviso to the most lusted after name in modern cycling, with a slew of major titles and an abundance of Grand Tour stage wins. It’s a legacy that his son, now at the helm, is proud of. Fausto Pinarello, is now in his 50s, well-dressed and looking every bit as fit as you’d expect from a man who rides as much as possible. He started working at the family business in the factory’s

paint shop, spraying frames, and has seen the brand grow exponentially from a relatively small enterprise to the brand that has won four of the last five Tours de France. “It was 1979, when I realised school wasn’t for me,” says Fausto, in his office at the company’s headquarters, a stylishly understated room, filled with memorabilia from a lifetime in cycling. He is jovial and relaxed in a manner that seems typical of his personality and leadership style, sitting at a round table more suited to collaboration and relaxed conversation than barking out orders. “I was 17 when I started working, really working. I’d always helped in the shop, from when I was eight or nine, during the summer when my dad used to get me to make the little holes in the mudguards on the ladies bikes, for the net that stopped dresses getting caught in the spokes. I used to add the valves to the inner tubes, too, because back then they weren’t vulcanized like they are today. “My first day at work, I didn’t have a clue what I wanted to do as an adult. At that age, you never do. It probably took me six or seven years to really understand. Or maybe a little sooner, when I’d see the bikes on TV, winning, and at the races, when the riders would come to say hi. That made me understand that this was a wonderful product. “You can make other things, screws or chairs, but it doesn’t give you the same kind of pride as a bicycle does. It’s a beautiful object. And if you can win – even better. It’s not that we just make bikes to win, that’s not the first thing we think of. First, we have to make them well, and then, if we win, great. But my message is always this: We’re trying to get as many people on the bike as possible. “I’d like to think that we’re making something that’s more than a means of transport, it’s a means to be happy and healthy, that everyone can enjoy, and a product that promotes wellness and is very social. Sooner or later you have to give up football or marathon running, but not cy cling. Of course, you could go play golf, but I think cycling is better! “The bike is a toy. Most of the people riding Pinarellos are like me; they’re not 20 years old anymore, not pros,

they work, have families. They don’t want to be like the pros, they want to unwind, maybe have a little battle with a friend, and then return home, contented, after a few hours out on the bike, not thinking of anything else.” Even if it isn’t the first thing that they think of when designing a new frame, winning is part of Pinarello’s DNA, and as their partnership with Team Sky continues, that doesn’t look like it’s changing any time soon. “The first victory that I really remember since I started here, was Giovanni Battaglin in the 1981 Giro,” recalls Fausto. “I remember that famous stage, on the Tre Cime di Lavaredo, when he took the GC lead with a great perfor mance. We always tried to make light bikes, but back then the races were really hard. These days, we have compact cranksets, 11 speeds in the rear, but back then, it was another thing. Here in the factory, our old mechanic made Battaglin a tri ple crankset, from Campagnolo, but totally by hand. Just for him. I think he got the chainrings from cyclocross. “Of course, at my age then, 19, you don’t really un derstand. When I think back, it always brings to mind a young footballer like Mario Balotelli, who OK, behaves a bit silly sometimes, but then everyone attacks him? Come on, what do you expect from a kid? Unless you’re Bill Gates or something. Maybe for geniuses it’s different, but I was never a genius. With time, I grew to understand and love the work. “Maybe being at the top is a problem. A good one, but still. It’s like being an athlete. It takes a lot to arrive at the top, but even more to stay there. You need a good team around you, working towards the same objective, from the boss, to the guys painting the frames, to the professionals you sponsor, to the customers. Everyone has to be going in the same direction. And everyone needs a bit of luck. “We’ve always been close to our athletes, because it’s a passion. We’ve always spent too much on our sporting objectives, but for me it’s a pleasure. Maybe that passion

is different, for an Italian, compared to an American, a German or someone from Taiwan. It’s always been here, especially for road racing. That passion means I want to be close with the athletes, and give them the best possible. “It’s not always about money, it’s about doing the best that you can. If I give a bike to a professional, and he’s not happy, there’s something seriously wrong there. We’ve been doing the same thing since the days of Miguel Indurain, and now we’re doing it with Sky, producing a frame for the athletes, but also with the athletes. “I’ll give you an example. When Lance Armstrong started racing, he was using a saddle from San Marco, but it was a Concor, a model from 20 years previous, that had been re-covered. That’s my friend’s company, and they sponsored the team. I said to him, ‘What the hell are you paying for, if he’s using something that’s 20 years old!’ “That’s no good. But if you make something with the athlete, and you have a good relationship, not just on a professional level but also personally, it’s a lot easier. It’s not that you have to be best friends, always eating together or whatever, but what’s good for the athlete is good for my work, too. “Passion means that it’s more than work, you’re always trying to do more than is necessarily needed. We made the bike just for Bradley Wiggins’ Hour Record, but we’ve been doing that since Miguel Indurain. Miguel had five [of his iconic Espada frames], three for the track, and two for the road. We never made one for anyone else. “It’s not something that you could do for everyone – or even something that they’d want. Because if you give someone a custom bike, just for them, there’s pressure, they have to perform no matter what. We’re lucky. If you have an athlete like Miguel, or like Wiggins or Chris Froome, it’s worth the effort, and they make it easy to create a special product.” Those special products feed into their production bikes, the kind ridden by a lucky few, and lusted after by many more. In recent years the Dogma has been a byword for race-winning performance, and credit is due to Pinarello

for not being afraid to change a winning formula in search of new marginal gains. “It’s a problem, but you need to evolve,” he says, talking about moving on from their last model, the F8, that is still arguably one of the best bikes on the planet. Early feedback suggests that the F10 will bring home even more silverware, and with it, bike sales, but it can’t have been an easy decision to move on from a design that was still thriving in both the marketplace and the peloton. “Take this phone,” suggests Fausto, holding up a cord less handset for the office landline. “If you wanted to jump from this to an iPhone, it’s impossible. But from an iPhone 4, to go to 5, the 6, the 7, it’s easier. We’re be ginning with a product that already works well, so we just have to improve on it. And it’s not like we can just invent the numbers, it’s all from computers, so you work from the data and then in a couple of years, you see how it actually performed. It’s always changing, but starting from a good base is vital. “Looking back now, I think it’s better that we grew slowly. I don’t want to say that we had nothing 40 years ago, but the company wasn’t like this. We’ve developed bit by bit. And I’m not sure if that would still be possible today, to grow gradually, and to mature with the com pany like I have. I don’t think so.”

TUSCANY Why ride in Tuscany? How about the undulating swathes of ochre and olive draped out to the horizon in every di rection. A landscape that is equal parts peasant and noble, a miscellany of farms and palaces, of crumbling stone walls and cypress-lined narrow strips of dusty, uneven, hellish gravel, where the cramped white-road climbs can bake in the sun, while wheels throw up clouds of dust that, after the passing of a large enough peloton, can been seen for miles, billowing off the exposed hilltops and into the crosswinds. And at the center of it all, there’s Siena, as much a work of art as it is a city. Terracotta towers, gargoyles and mar ble facades, a warren of slender streets and arches, bound up by Medieval fortress walls. The city’s famous Piazza del Campo, one of the world’s great squares, characterised by red brick, gothic flourishes and narrow balconies with crooked, hand-wrought iron railings, is home to the icon ic Strade Bianche spring classic, and also to the world’s oldest horse race, the Palio, a tense equine battle between the city’s divided neighbourhoods famous for political chicanery, bribery, deception, betrayal and occasional violence. But riding here is about more than just history, or a throw-back to the golden age of our sport where almost every bend conjures up sepia images of weathered racers caked in dirt. Tuscany, the birthplace of Gino Bartali, Fiorenzo Magni, Paolo Bettini and Mario Cipollini, re mains at the beating heart of Italian cycling.

TWO-WHEELED CLARITY Words by Tom Vanderbilt Illustration by Carolina Maria

Most people who ride a bike can remember, with the clar ity of a spring morning, the moment they fell for cycling. Two strong thoughts linger in my mind about my first real ride, about six years ago, as I was already climbing the hill of my forties. The first was: Where has this been all my life? The second: What an absolute dork I was. For journalistic reasons, I was due to ride about 65 miles with a seasoned rider. A metric century seems, now, like the barest threshold of a decent day out. But for someone accustomed to short urban commutes, I had trouble com prehending the figure: OK, so I’ll take my usual run down to the coffee shop and multiply it by …40? I showed up on my 18-speed flat-bar hybrid bike, wea ring sneakers, some vaguely athletic (but hardly form fitting, and certainly not padded) shorts, and a backpack. Among the things I had neglected to bring were: Water, nutrition, a spare tube and pump, and anything resem bling the fitness to ride more than two miles. My host looked at me with polite condescension. “I’ve got a spare bottle for you,” he said cheerily (even as his face read: Oh dear), “and we’ll stop for bagels.” As I limped home, I knew I was hooked. I felt I had discovered some secret vice that turned out to be virtu ous. But I also immediately knew I was out of my depth, that I was a total noob. A kook. A patzer. A Fred. A Bar ney. Or whatever word for novice you want to employ. It is never easy being a beginner, but being a begin ner at an age when you are supposed to be at the peak

of your professional and life powers, is especially hard. And road cycling — not just riding a bike but a riding the right bike the right way — seemed to have a particularly daunting learning curve. Soccer, by contrast, which I had been playing recreationally for years, seemed easy. You just threw on some cleats and showed up and tried to kick the ball in the back of the net. But cycling seemed like an endless series of decision trees. I needed a proper bike. Did I want a race bike, or something with more relaxed geometry? Did I want alu minum, carbon fiber, steel or titanium? Shimano, SRAM or Campy? What was my preferred tire width? (“Um, you know, not too wide, but not too thin”). What sort of pedals did I want — and wait, don’t they just come with the bike? Then I grappled with what to wear. I was not even close to knowing about debates over sock heights and the like, but I still felt overwhelmed. And so I bought “bike shorts” (not of the bib variety) and a fluorescent top — a veritable badge of my beginnerdom, as much as the chain-grease stamps that would soon be blossoming on my calves. If I had only had some sage counsel to walk me through all of this, I might have avoided some of the ignominy that was to follow. But I just wanted to get out there, and wasn’t getting out of one’s comfort zone the whole reason for trying new things? And so there it was, that inaugu ral outing, one Saturday morning. It wasn’t even a ride, actually, just me wheeling my bike to the park across the street. First, so I could simply get used to the idea of

wearing micrometer-thin pajamas in public, out amongst the old ladies pushing shopping carts and the brawny construction guys drinking coffee on the neighboring stoop (at least I had not yet shaved my legs). The second, so I could practice clipping in and out of my weird new pedals (which, confusingly, were termed “clipless”). But I slowly put together the barest façade of compe tence, and soon felt emboldened enough to join (for a magazine assignment) a “ride with the pros” event at Blackberry Farm in Tennessee. I was thrust into a large paceline for the first time — good thing it was on wet mountain roads! — and I tried to chat casually with my neighbors, even as I tried to grapple, internally, with the sickening realization that I was meant to ride within inches of the person in front of me and be totally cool with it. Of course, like many new riders, I wasn’t cool with it, and kept slipping back, losing touch — when I wasn’t overcompensating by dangerously half-wheeling the person in front. “Oh, you’ve got a triple,” a fellow rider noted early in the ride. “Yeah,” I said, quickly realizing he was refer ring to the triple chain-ring on the bike the outfitter had equipped me with. Not only did I not yet know it was a device held in some contempt by hardcore riders, I had not even noticed I had one. A few minutes later, I realized I had forgotten my sunglasses. You moron. Perhaps no one would notice. My veil of nonchalance was immediately shattered as the rider next to me, a doctor, immediately piped up.

“Your eyes could get really dried out, and you could get road debris in your eyes.” I imagined a whispered chain of communication up and down the paceline. “Dude forgot his sunglasses. And he’s got a triple.” Just then, Christian Vande Velde rolled alongside and very gallantly offered up a nice pair of Oakleys. Not long after we, hit a section of the ride called “The Wall,” a big, unforgiving upward slog through the Smokeys. Even my triple couldn’t keep me off the back. The ride leader dropped back and asked if I was OK. “Yeah, but this driver behind is creeping me out. He just won’t pass.” “Oh, that’s the sag wagon,” he said. “Right, of course,” I said. Please get a clue, you pathetic donkey. On the many rides after that, there were any number of further foibles. Let us run the highlight reel. There was the time on that big multi-state charity ride, in early spring, where I opened my swag bag to find a jar of “embrocation,” a term that was new to me. “Keeps your legs warm,” my roommate said, as he removed wadded newspaper from his wet shoes. “Sounds good,” I said, proceeding to apply it, then adding my full-length winter bibs on top of it. I was more than warm: For the next hours I felt like a piece of raw fish that had been dropped into citric acid, a piece of human ceviche in lycra. There was the time my ill-secured saddle bag fell off my saddle, nearly bringing down the cursing rider behind. There was the time I accidentally put my sleek carbon fiber water bottle cage on upside down. “Weird thing,”

the mechanic who spotted it said, “it still works.” I un knowingly left “pie plates” on my rear wheels, and did not discard the nuts and caps from my valve stems (both no-nos). I ploddingly changed flats (new bike builds have been done in less time) only to get another one two minutes later because I had overlooked the tiny shard of metal in the tire. After changing flats, I left the front wheel skewer open, and only divine providence kept me from not attempting a bunny hop or something that would have liberated bike from wheel. I would dodge a pothole at the last second, feeling smug, then suddenly shrink as I heard the hollow thwack of carbon being pushed to its stress-fracture limit as the rider behind screamed “fucking call it out!” And then, with this string of successes notched on my belt, I started racing. If you thought novice cycling was bad, novice bike racing takes it to a whole other level of stupid. There was the time, after finishing one event, that I put my bike on my roof rack and then pulled away – leaving the front wheel lying in the long grass (this Zipps for you, bud!). There was the time I rubbed against some one’s wheel and went down — a few moments after the neutral start vehicle began to pull away. There was that first race at Brooklyn’s Floyd Bennett Field, where I came around the turn on the last lap and launched a heroic solo sprint for the win, thinking I got this, then running out of gas precisely 400 yards short of the finish, ending up near last as the peloton roared past.

Being new to cycling was exhilarating — there was a whole new vast world of possibility stretching out in front of me. But it came with a cost: These constant slings and arrows, these injuries to my pride (and occa sionally body and bike). Strangely, that is part of what made it feel so good; the best learning, after all, comes from mistakes. When it feels easy, you are not improving. Years later, at another charity ride, when I had a swish loaner bike and was at peak svelteness, someone told me they had assumed I was “one of the ex-pros.” I felt a massive rush, as if I had truly arrived. And then a real pro yelled me at for my poor placement in the paceline.

TOM VANDERBILT IS CONTRIBUTING EDITOR AT OUTSIDE AND WIRED U.K. AND AUTHOR OF THE BOOKS TRAFFIC: WHY WE DRIVE THE WAY WE DO AND YOU MAY ALSO LIKE: TASTE IN AN AGE OF ENDLESS CHOICE. JOÃO STILL YELLS AT HIM FOR CROSS-CHAINING.

THE DOLOMITES Home to some of the world’s most captivating scenery and its most exciting roads, the Dolomites is where cycling history has been written and where many of its myths have been made. These mountains, once the scene of bloody confron tation between Italian and Austrian soldiers in World War I, these days act at the backdrop for the Giro d’Ita lia’s most engaging battles. Pordoi, Giau, Falzarego are just some of the infamous passes that cut through this dramatic Alpine swathe of northern Italy, where the breathtaking cliffs of the Cinque Torri loom large over countless switchbacks and where the flushed stone of the upper peaks glows pink in the summer sun. Everyone from Fausto Coppi, Felice Gimondi and Eddy Merckx to today’s heroes like Vincenzo Nibali have had to tame the Dolomites before becoming true champions, and it is a definite must-do for any amateur rider who wants to test themselves and experience what it’s really like to follow in the tire-tracks of legends.

BORN IN AMERICA, MADE IN ITALY

Words by Colin O’Brien Photography by Jim Merithew

A little cross-pollination can be a marvelous thing. You only need a quick glance at somewhere like Silicon Valley to see that. Apple, Google, and eBay are just a few of big hitters that were founded by newcomers, who dis covered in America the inspiration, and the market, for something new. In cycling, too, fresh ideas from abroad have had a huge effect on how the sport has developed in this country over the last few decades. Few have had a bigger impact than Giorgio Andretta, who came to the US, via Canada, in the 1970s and he’s been leading the way in terms of cycling apparel ever since. Andretta’s brand, Giordana, has been at the heart of American cycling success since its earliest days, but it came from humble beginnings, when a keen bike racer from the Bel Paese noticed a distinct lack of quality cy cling goods in his new homeland. “I was riding for a team in Canada and we came to the United States to race too, and I saw that there was a need for a lot of things,” says Giorgio, reflecting on how much things have changed since the 1970s. “It wasn’t as developed as it was in Europe. There was no availability in terms of bicycles, clothing and acces sories, so I started to bring in stuff from overseas.

“I did my first trade show in Miami in ‘71 and started to sell in the US. Two years later, I opened a warehouse in Jacksonville and the distribution started from there. I saw that we were selling a lot more in the States than in Canada, so in ‘78 I moved to Charlotte. “By then, everything had progressed so much. We put a name on the line, Giordana, after my daughter, which I thought it was a nice idea, with the Sagittarius as the logo.” What had started as a distribution company represent ing the biggest names in his homeland, quickly developed into a market-leading apparel company, and the man from Veneto in Northern Italy suddenly found himself at the heart of the nascent American racing scene, and all of the success that would soon follow. “Early on,” he says, “we sponsored some of the big American teams, like SRC Levi’s-Raleigh and Mengoni, where Andy Hampsten started out, along with some of the other guys who went on to 7-Eleven. “And we sponsored the US National Team for the LA Olympics in ‘84, with Alexi Grewal who won the gold in the men’s road race, and Connie Carpenter and Rebecca Twigg, who got gold and silver. And Greg LeMond won the World Championships wearing Giordana.”

In terms of a brand’s palmarès, it doesn’t get much better than that for a start-up, but there was success too in Europe, with big teams in Italy, France, Belgium, Ger many and Spain. In 1995, a new height was reached, when Giordana became the official jersey sponsor of the Tour de France. The following year, they sold that contract to Nike, but they continued to produce cycling apparel for the American sports giant right up until 2011. “From ‘79 onwards I was always designing something,” recalls Giorgio, thinking of the early days. “My mind was always trying to develop something new. We were making so many of our own designs and models that we decided we needed our own factory [as opposed to using a larger supplier]. “It was never easy. It’s a lot of research, special materi als, special cuts, making sure it all works the proper way, and then you have to make sure that the manufacturing process translates all of that research and development into the final product. “That’s why we stayed in Italy, because we needed to make sure we were making what we wanted to. I looked around, in the Far East and Eastern Europe, but you couldn’t get the same product done the right way. Nobody that I saw was working from their own patterns, they were just taking a little bit of everyone else’s designs to make a model. “There was no one who could do exactly what we had in mind. Italy still has the knowledge and the knowhow, and also the manufacturers who can make the materials you need without making enormous orders. You can be very specific. It’s the cradle of cycling, and where the best things have always been made, it’s harder these days with the economy and the taxes, but it’s still the best you can get. The other places, it might look almost the same or feel almost the same, but it doesn’t perform or last the same.” Born in America, but made in Italy, in the company founder’s own words. And when it’s suggested that this might be the best of both worlds, he agrees, offering an amusing observation. “When we brought the brand to Europe, everyone loved it because they thought it was American. But in the US, they liked that it was Italian!” The close bond to professional racing continues to this day, but Giorgio is also quick to point out that amateurs

are a vital source of feedback too, and that they can often be the more innovative. “Professionals and amateurs are different,” he explains. “Normal riders are important to work with too, because they’ll try new things. Pros have their ways, and if they use something, they’re sometimes stuck, and it can be hard to show them that the new thing performs better. “To give you an example, we’re sponsoring Orica–Scott and Astana. When we first met both teams, they asked for different shorts with all the different chamois that we had, so that they could test them. But we don’t have any different chamois, we have two models, but it’s the same material, in a different shape. “So they said ‘But what if we don’t like it?’ I said, ‘Let’s talk about that after you try them. So far, I haven’t had any complaints.’ “So we had a meeting with all of the riders, to give them all of the garments, so that I could explain what they’re designed to do, and why. Then I told them that I recommended not to use any cream with the chamois, and they all just looked at me, like ‘What do you mean?’ “If you use cream, it will take away from what it was designed to do. “Obviously, it was up to them, but my advice was to try it my way first. When I talked to the coaches and the directors, they told me that it was the first time ever that they had a whole team, using the same chamois, without any cream.” Seasoned pros will often recover old saddles and even replace the manufacturer’s stamp on tires when they change sponsors, so convincing not one, but two entire teams to try something new is impressive. More impres sive still was their reaction. As endorsements go, they don’t get much more ringing than that. “That’s our goal,” Giorgio says, with the same kind of commitment that first spurred him on all those years ago. “To convince cyclists to trust people who really are knowledgable. My idea is always to take the best, and find a way to make it better. Not only with pros, but with amateurs, anyone who loves to go out on a bike, to give them a new experience, something that performs better than anything they’ve had. That’s our approach.”

A PLACE CAUGHT IN TIME A photo essay by Jered & Ashley Gruber Introduction by Jim Merithew

Ashley and Jered Gruber. I hate them. Seriously. I mean, take two of my favorite things, bicycling and photography, add in a successful marriage with constant travel to exotic locales, and you have the Grubers. I hate them. I’m snuggled into the cozy couch in our suite at São Lourenço do Barrocal, watching Jered feverishly flipping back and forth between MapMyRide, Ride with GPS and Strava, attempting to find the perfect route for tomorrow’s ride. He is virtually ripping through all the backroads of the Alentejo, hunting for the most challenging and picturesque roads. And he is adorable. His enthusiasm for the process is infectious. Grinning from earto-ear, he clearly imagines us rolling along the byways of southern Portugal towards some undiscovered cycling paradise. And I’m starting to picture it too. The conversation devolves into a session of “Hey, look at this road,” and, “We have to go ride this road.” Craziness. And we love it. For her part, the lovely Ashley seems oblivious to the complete conversation, instead concentrating on calendars and clients, making sure that the lovable goon on the couch showing me maps continues to have the gainful employment that allows for all this cartographic nonsense. As the King would have said, she’s takin’ care of business. And right now, business is booming, because it seems that just about everyone is trying to get themselves a little piece of the Gruber magic. Ashley and Jered photograph just like they ride bikes, with a youthful enthusiasm and relentless need for exploration. They travel the world searching for new roads, and new approaches to their photography. They’re always aching with excitement over the next adventure, and they have a penchant for finishing each other sentences and sharing everything they own. It’s disgusting. I truly love to hate the Grubers. Or I wish I did. I just plain love them. Damn the Grubers. I hope they come see me soon.

ALESSANDRO: OLD WORLD CRA 64

Words by Heidi Swift Photography by Paolo Ciaberta

AFTSMAN

Alessandro Stella makes shoes. Stunning, immaculate, breathtaking handmade shoes. What does a shoemaker have to do with cycling? Nothing. Everything. One afternoon after riding you go to Siena to meet him in his shop. He’ll show you his work, show you his process, smile at you and laugh, speak to you in his lovely accented English. You’ll crowd into the tiny space, shoulder to shoulder with your riding mates and marvel at the smell of leather and the aesthetic precision that surrounds you on every side. Alessandro is a man with lively hands, quick eyes and a generous heart. If you’re lucky, he will turn up at dinner later. If you’re really lucky, he’ll tell you a few stories from the road. And if you’re really, really lucky, he’ll have a few glasses of wine and begin to talk to you about life in abstract terms: there is a philosopher hiding in this shoemaker. Maybe he tells you the story of what it was like to de scend 15,000 feet on a bike from Tibet into Nepal, maybe he doesn’t. What does a shoemaker have to do with cycling? Nothing. Everything.

PROVENCE Home to some of the Tour de France’s most iconic beauty, and one of its most feared beasts, riding in Provence is all about sleepy little towns, seemingly endless fields of lavender, the rugged, gruelling allure of Mont Ventoux, and everything in between. Ever since the Greeks first established the city of Mar seilles more than 2,600 years ago, this part of France has been attracting foreign explorers from far and wide. The Romans dubbed it Provincia Nostra, ‘Our Province,’ in 118BC, a name that stuck, and that is still remarkably apt for the modern cyclist who will arrive to find a terrain at once both familiar and completely new, full of classic roads inextricably linked to the world’s biggest bike race, and boasting plenty of lesser-known wonders too. This is a land of idyllic countryside, vibrantly colored in purple and green, dotted with enchanting hilltop villages and bustling local markets. Expect to indulge in some of the area’s lusted-after wines and its rich, mouth-watering cuisine, and of course, to discover a rich tapestry of cycling heritage that makes it an unmissable experience for any serious rider.

COPPI’S STELVIO SYMPHONY Story by Colin O’Brien With two stages left of the 1953 Giro d’Italia, the race for the Maglia Rosa was over. Even Fausto Coppi thought so. Switzerland’s Hugo Koblet, the Giro champion three years previous and one of the few men who could hold a candle to the Campionissimo, had been in pink since the eighth stage and looked unbeatable. Coppi’s Bianchi team had thrown all they had at him, but the Zurich native still led by a couple of minutes. But even as Coppi resigned himself to second, those closest to him weren’t ready to give up. Legend has it that his loyal gregario, Ettore Milano, took it upon himself to do some detective work. As Koblet signed autographs and posed for pictures, Milano asked if he might have one taken with the champion for himself, asking him to remove his sunglasses under the pretext that he be more recognisable in the photograph. The Swiss amiably obliged, and unwittingly reignited Coppi’s challenge, because underneath the dark shades lurked darker eyes. He hadn’t slept. He was vulnerable. The 36th edition of the Giro was not as lost as it had seemed. Milano wasted no time in delivering the fruits of his espionage back to his captain.

Enter the Stelvio. Stage 20 from Bolzano in Alto Adige to Bormio in Lombardy was short for those days – a mere 125 kilometres – but its brevity was fooling no one. The route involved a new climb, more than 24 kilometres long, with 1,808 metres of altitude gain. A great unknown, but po tentially the perfect grandstand for Italy’s grandest talent. The Bianchi team started to turn the screw early, like Picadors wearing down a bull for the expectant Matador. In the foothills and the lower slopes around Trafoi, Cop pi’s lieutenants tore away at the race leader’s resolve until eventually, struggling with the Stelvio, his incessant rivals and perhaps the weight of expectation, he cracked. Wavering in a bend, he lost a bike length. Then two. Coppi took flight, some 11 kilometres from the top, wringing everything he could out of his body and his bike, churn ing a 46x23 gear and grinding his opponent into pieces. After a hair-raising descent into Bormio, during which he crashed, the Italian won the stage by almost three and a half minutes, enough to finish the following afternoon’s final ride to Milan with an 89-second lead over the Swiss to take Giro number five – a victory that his countrymen would call “Coppi’s fifth symphony.”

Witnesses on the mountain that day, observing the stricken, desolate Koblet being escorted up the final kilo metres by two police motorcycles, likened it to a funeral procession. Even the victor would later say that the effort had almost killed him. In its debut appearance, the Stelvio had left an indelible mark on the race and on the race’s most iconic champion. And as a mark of respect to that transcendent performance, to this day we still refer to the Giro’s highest point as the “Cima Coppi” – the Coppi Peak. Built in just five years and opened in 1825, the Passo dello Stelvio is perhaps the closest a road engineer will ever come to genuinely artistic expression. Carlo Doneg ani, a native of Brescia, was employed by the Austrian crown to connect its newly acquired province of Lom bardy to the rest of the Habsburg Empire. The Italian’s solution was a 49-kilometre tour de force connecting the Valtellina valley with the Val Venosta. From its more recognisable, picturesque side, the SS38 climbs from Ponte di Stelvio at an average gradient of around seven-and-a-half percent, maxing out at just over nine percent, two thirds of the way up. Donegani used 48 tight hairpins to conquer the mountain’s eastern face, in a feat of genius that somehow manages to combine

the potential of human ingenuity with the raw power of nature, and in doing so, elevate and honour them both. The Bormio side is not to be scoffed at either, with gradients above 12 percent in places along the 21.9-kilo metre escalation that gains 1,560 metres in total. The Giro has tackled this face on several occasions, but it is more famous and feared as a descent, not least because of its five tunnels. That dive into total darkness is a real test of nerve at speed – especially for those frozen, es urient riders ravaged by the climb and desperate for the deliverance from misery that only the finish line below can offer. Usurped as Europe’s highest mountain pass by the Col d’Iseran in 1937, Donegani’s serpentine masterpiece remains cycling’s most iconic climb and though the aforementioned French road might be 12 metres higher, when it comes to unpredictable drama, Stelvio is still the sport’s absolute pinnacle. It’s also something of a gamble. Because of the Giro’s springtime spot on the calendar, the unpredictability of the climate at such altitude makes the Stelvio’s inclusion a risky proposition, which probably explains why it’s been used rather sparingly. In total, it has appeared 10

times in the race, but had to be stricken from the route because of extreme weather in 1967, 1984, 1988 and 2013. Precarious as it might be, however, it remains an inte gral part of Giro history and cycling lore. As the Italians would say, vale la pena – it’s worth the pain – because it rarely fails to produce drama. Josè Manuel Fuente cou rageously fought off the despotic Eddy Merckx here in 1972, and Bernard Hinault regained the Maglia Rosa from Wladimiro Panizza in 1980 with an impressive display of his own abilities and his team’s superiority. It has sometimes been the undoing of champions too, not least in 2005 when Ivan Basso fell foul to sickness and to the climb’s unforgiving nature to lose a devas tating 42 minutes and all hope of victory. After starting the 88th edition of the race as one of the favourites, the future two-time winner would eventually finish in Milan 27 places behind that year’s victor, Paolo Savoldelli, all because of one bad day. And that’s the charm. The Stelvio is more than a mountain, it’s a protean monument of unpredictability, and whenever the race reaches its precipitous slopes, it treats spectators the world over to something that is all to rare these days: the simple plea sure of not being able to work out what will happen next.

THIS IS AN EXTRACT FROM “GIRO D’ITALIA: THE STORY OF THE WORLD’S MOST BEAUTIFUL BIKE RACE,” BY COLIN O’BRIEN, PUBLISHED BY PURSUIT IN THE UK AND MONDADORI IN ITALY. PEGASUS BOOKS WILL PUBLISH A U.S. EDITION IN 2018.

CALIFORNIA Because there’s no place like home. We love riding in the Old World, but we’re very proud of our Bay Area roots and we genuinely believe that the Golden State offers some of the best cycling to be found anywhere on the planet. Whether it’s the sense of randonée adventure on the unique Coast Ride, that rollercoaster of laughs and early season energy that runs from San Francisco to Morro Bay, the quaint charm of Paso Robles and the many incredible roads that surround it, or the awe-inspiring beauty of the Redwoods, there’s a reason we like to boast about our own neck of the woods when we’re talking to friends in the European professional peloton. In recent years, a lot of them have taken to training here in the off-season, but we get to enjoy it year round, and we don’t think we’re being overly confident when we say that we know it better than anyone. So whether you want to start your season off right with some solid, sunny miles, or you’re just looking for a destination closer to home that won’t leave you longing for the longhaul option, trust us: California is second to none.

Family can mean more than just parents, children, uncles, aunts and cousins. Family can be defined as any group of people who share common attitudes, interests, or goals. A lot of companies abuse the word “family” as part of their marketing speak or advertising spiel, in order to try and create a sense of friendliness and affinity between their clients and the corporation, but when inGamba says family, we mean it. We’re a close-knit unit that believes in relationships, and that belief defines who we are and how we make decisions. We ride together, live together, break bread together. We laugh like a family – occasionally, we fight like one too. And we wouldn’t have it any other way. Because family isn’t something you choose. It chooses you.

THE INGAMBA FAMILY THE BOSS. João Correia. What can be said of João that hasn’t already been said? The stories of his fat to fit saga are legendary. And yes, he started this company with a tweet. And certainly he has a love of all things Mangia, Beve and Bici. But the press clippings and blogposts only tell a small part of the story. João believes success in business and in life depends on nurturing rela tionships and he believes a man’s word is his bond. He carries the burden of being head of the family with earnest intent and pride. If you’re going to run your business like a family, it’s helpful when your head of the family is both caring and committed, always with a great sense of humor. We have all those things in our fearless leader, Mr. Correia. And we see our roles in the inGamba soap opera as the opportunities that he always says they are.

MR. METICULOUS. Zé is our head mechanic, and if you’ve ever traveled with us, you’ll have been the benefit of his amazing attention to detail. This is because he runs his shop with precision and calmness of a samurai warrior. Our bikes are tuned and dialed without any indication that prepar ing a fleet of bicycles every day, for a group of discerning family members, is even remotely a hassle. Now, if we can just get him to stop with all the constant chatter. 79

THE CLOWN. Raul is one of kind. Thankfully. He’s the son/father/brother you always wish you had. He prepares your hand-wrapped ride treats, ped als alongside with a smile, runs the broom wagon and when needed, played the court jester. We recently made the mistake of getting Raul a bluetooth speaker, and since he’s the last one to sleep and the first one to rise, we’ve become much more familiar with Portuguese Fado music, at inappropriate volumes at all times of the day and night. We love the tunes, but we’re also hoping he loses the charging cable soon.

THE CHAMPION. Eros Poli is a winner. When he rides his Pinarello through the streets of Verona, his hometown, people still holler his name. But to us, he’s just Eros. He’s the size of a small European truck and is the best wheel in the peloton. He’s an amazing guide, and is always willing to bury himself in service of the team. He’s also a big fan of traditional Italian cuisine, and he knows his Prosecco. But don’t let that fool you: Eros is a man of the world, and has a love of many American culinary delights, including fish & chips, barbecue, corn chips (in any flavor) and the occasional light pilsner. THE QUIET CRUSHER. Surgeon General’s Warning: Manuel Cardoso was riding in the pro peloton like 10 minutes ago and he can rip your legs off. The only real way to know this is to get a good look at those muscles. They give all his secrets away. His many victories include the Portuguese National Road Race title, a stage at the Volta a Catalunya, and a famous stage at the Tour Down Under – where he pipped no less a talent than Alejandro Valverde to the line. But don’t let this worry you, as he may just be the greatest domestique on the road today. He knows when you’re chomping at the bit to turn up the heat and he intuitively realizes – often before you do – when you’re about to blow up like a cheap balloon. THE CAREGIVER. Benji Carvalho was João’s first sports director, and then Manuel’s soigneur during his days as a pro. But well before that, he too, was Portuguese National Champion. He’s a man of few words. But his hands are magic and his temperament is ideal to nurse our bodies and our souls in preparation for another of day in the saddle. THE KID. Xico Carvalho has been with us almost since day one. He’s no longer “a kid,” but we prefer to think of him as such. He laugh is infectious. His work ethic is second-to-none. And his love of a bucket of chicken is legendary. His first job was stomping grapes in his grandma’s basement and now he wrenches on our Pinarello F10 bicycles. All of his hard earned wages are funneled into his beloved Cooper S… and buckets of chicken.

THE INSTIGATOR. José Sousa is the quiet prankster. José is the last one mom and dad would ever figure is causing all the commotion. He runs a tight ship and is responsible for the team operating like a well-oiled machine, but deep down inside he’s always looking for an opportunity to cause trouble or pull a prank. He’s the brother you love, but always have to keep an eye on. THE CHEF. Morgaro is the boss of the kitchen at Borgolecchi, and he does an incredible job. It’s as if your dad finally learned how you like your eggs, your coffee and your Tuscan Bistecca. THE STORYTELLER. Giorgio. You may hear the sweet, sweet notes waft ing towards your window at Borgolecchi, as our resident aristocrat practices his new found love of the clarinet. Giorgio is our resident historian. We’re never quite sure if his stories are based in reality, but they they are without a doubt highly entertaining. Probably the greatest tale Giorgio is prone to tell you is that he’s not really a cyclist. This yarn is not to be believed. THE HIP-CAT. Every family needs one, you know, an inked-up, steely-eyed hipster wandering about looking all shady. But regardless of João Simão’s stunningly good-looks and assemblage of tattoos, he can’t escape the fact he’s a big ol’ softie. So don’t let the looks fool you, he might carry a big steel wrench, but he also has a heart of gold. THE STORYTELLER. Joaquim Sampaio is everywhere. He’s filling water bottles. He’s putting out route markers. He’s giving massages. He’s prepping the car. He’s working on his English. He’s just working. Sampaio is taking care of business. And he knows bicycles, bicycle racing and now he knows bicycle touring. He is the ultimate teammate. He works for us and therefore we work.

THE STEADY HAND. Nuno is the illusive family member who never shows up for family functions and he never, ever appears in pictures. But he’s the backbone of this family. He’s doing all the little things you appreciate, even if you don’t realize it. He makes sure all your swag gets sent, all our publications get printed and all your routes go down the right roads. Nuno is the best.

YOU. Yes, you. Our extended family. There are so many names on this list we don’t know where to start. We show up to rides in Arizona, New York, Los Angeles and Portland and you’re there, wearing the family kit. We need a place to stay while on the road with Eros and you open your doors. We do this thing we do because of you. And whether it’s the roads of Tuscany, a brutal climb in the Dolomites, the rolling hills of Portugal or in the sheets of rain on the Coast Ride, we love the fact we get to ride with family. 81

TIRAMISU: THE QUINTESSENTIAL ITALIAN TREAT Recipe by Morgaro Barbi

TIRAMISU IS ONE OF THE MOST LOVED ITALIAN DESSERTS. THERE ARE VARIOUS WAYS TO PREPARE THE CREAMY FILLING, BUT MOST PEOPLE USE EGG WHITE TO GIVE BODY. SOME PEOPLE ADD A LIQUEUR WHICH IN RESTAURANTS IS USED MAINLY TO HELP CONSERVE THE PRODUCT FOR LONGER WHICH DIMINISHES THE QUALITY. MY ADVICE, FOR A GOOD TIRAMISU WHICH IS EASY TO PREPARE AND DELICIOUS TASTING, IS TO MAKE IT WITH THESE FEW INGREDIENTS:

EGG YOLKS

TBSP SUGAR

250G MASCARPONE 250G WHIPPED CREAM 50G

COCOA POWDER

LARGE CUP OF COFFEE (AMERICANO IS OK)

50G

ICING SUGAR

PAVESINI / LADYFINGERS

DIFICULTY — EASY

01. Make up the coffee and whip the cream with a

03. The absolute best biscuits for a good tiramisù are

whisk and halfway through the preparation add the 50g of icing sugar. Once the cream has be come dense put it in a bowl, cover with kitchen paper and place in the refrigerator.

02. Now we take the 2 egg yolks and beat them with the sugar using a whisk. Then add the mascar pone and mix well. Always try to use the whisk with an upwards action and as soon as the mix ture is combined we can take the whipped cream out of the refrigerator and add it to complete our tiramisù ‘cream’.

pavesini which unfortunately are quite difficult to source outside Italy. In this case you can use savoiardi which we also use in Italy, or any type of soft biscuit that you like.

04. In the hope that you managed to find pavesini, the preparation at this point is very simple.

05. Take the coffee (which must be cold) and add ½ cup of water. Dip the biscuits in the coffee quickly so that they don’t get too soggy and layer them in individual bowls three biscuits each, cover with a layer of the cream mixture (about 2cm thick), form another layer of coffee soaked biscuits in

creasing the amount by one each layer (e.g. 3-4-5) and then another layer of cream (about 2cm thick) . The top layer of our cream which should be about 3cm thick. The total number of layers shouldn’t be more than 2 or 3.

08. Once this time has passed and at the end of our meal we just have to remove the bowls from the refrigerator and using a sieve dust the top with cocoa powder and then… enjoy with your eyes and your tastebuds. Buon Appetito.

06. So to sum up: 3 pavesini, 2cm cream, 4 pavesini, 3cm cream is the classic method but sometimes we use 3 layers, for those with a very sweet tooth.

07. Now we put our tiramisù in the refrigerator for 2 or 3 hours, covered with kitchen paper (in the summer 3 hours minimum), so that the cream can thicken.

TOP TEN TED TIPS

His fondness for maple syrup is matched only by his knack for long rides. Racing all over the globe the past decade, Ted gleaned a few handy tips. Here’s one for every pro year he raced. Words by Ted King

Wave. Pros wave. Retired pros wave. I don’t care if you ride by 100 cyclists on your half-hour commute. Wave, nod, give ‘em the cheesy guy pistelero shoot. Whatever you do, acknowledge your bike-riding brethren. Be prepared. This is all-encompassing. Take your bike to a shop before a big tour or training block to make sure your brake pads aren’t paper thin, your chain and cassette aren’t all about to snap, and your tires aren’t threadbare. Charge your computer battery the night before. Make sure your eTap batteries are topped off. Don’t just have a flat repair kit, but know how to use it. Properly air up your tires before a ride. Having to habitually apologize for an annoying squeaky chain is inexcusable. Don’t be the one who always runs out of water nor constantly be asking for five bucks. Be ready for whatever. Don’t take up more than half of one car lane. It drives me bonkers when Left Lane Larry obliviously crosses the yellow line, especially when rolling down a road as straight as an arrow. Even when riding two abreast, there’s no reason to take up more than that piece of paved real estate. Riding three abreast, zig-zagging all over the road, or taking up more than half of one lane is dangerous, it’s unnecessary, and you’ll immediately put any motorist into a tizzy. Find a trusted local bike shop and become good friends with them. You’ll generate cool likeminded friends, you’ll find riding partners plus new routes, and earn some bonus random perks – maybe a discounted tuneup, some swag, or a sweet holiday party. Pro-tip: mechanics like six-packs; they also like cash. Proactively and prematurely breathe full, deep breaths before any sort of big effort. Whether an all-out sprint or a really hard steep climb, if you consciously put more oxygen into your system, you’ll be able to stave off lactic threshold just a little bit longer. It works for deep sea div ers, it’ll work for you. Relax. Relax your entire body. Your arms, hands, stom ach, shoulders, even your face. All too often, you see the vice grip o’ death on the bars paired with a concrete face of excruciating pain which looks like no fun whatsoever. You’re riding a bike for goodness sake, you may as well enjoy it. Eat real foods. Don’t choke down something inedible because the glossy training magazines or your riding

buddy tells you it’s the latest and greatest. Know what you’re ingesting and at least partially why it’s making you better. Aerobic activity isn’t anything new to the human race, so similarly focus on the macro nutrients found plentifully in real foods. Take maple syrup for example: there are 54 antioxidants, it’s loaded with elec trolytes and chock full of amino acids, it’s water soluble for easy digestion, and darn it, it’s delicious. Cupcakes are delicious. So are carrots. Eat real food. OK, OK, admittedly random, but this is one tip I used throughout my career. If you’re riding in a big group and as long as you aren’t the one towing the peloton down a sinuous descent, hold your breath when rounding a big corner. When everyone is hard on their brakes and you can smell that caustic, gritty air, you can be sure those burning brake pad fumes aren’t good for you. Have a coach. JRA* is perfectly acceptable a big chunk of the time. But if you want to continually improve, a coach is the way to go. They’re knowledgable, have your best interest in mind, and can see the forest and not just the trees. The balance of training, personal life, and pro fessional life is the harmony you’re seeking, and a coach is the way to achieve it. Spin to win. Too often you’ll see people lumber around in an enormous gear throughout the day, so that when they reach a climb they’re already muscularly taxed, therefore their cadence drops even further into the sub30rpm category or what I call “the molasses zone”. This is bad. (Maple syrup, good!) That’s a recipe for dislike and/ or tipping over. Instead, spin on flats and rolling terrain around 95-105rpm. On climbs, maintain 75-85rpm. Ride with the entire spectrum of cycling demographic that you experience a little of everything. That’s the best way to find out what is fast/slow/cool/lame/exciting/ boring/hip/ridiculous/epic/sensible in the sport. Plus you’ll find out which are your favorite riding partners and you’ll likely stick closer to them.

* JUST RIDING AROUND

12 TIPS FOR A PERFECT WEEK Words by Jim Merithew

Preparing for a regular vacation can be a little stressful, but when you add in the fact you are leaving on a bicycle vacation the stress can multiply. Have I trained enough? Do I need to bring extra socks? How many Euros should I bring? We at inGamba are here to put you at easy. Take a quick look at our helpful tips and remember we are here to help.

ONE Everyone tells you to keep a photo copy or your passport with you and we couldn’t agree more. We recommend you put a copy in your suitcase, a copy in your rain bag, give a copy to your PA and save a copy to someplace you can get at it on the cloud. And we can speak from experience, life becomes a lot easier if you can access your passport information.

TWO Jet lag hits everyone a lit tle differently. The list of solutions is endless. You can download apps which purport to help you adjust your sleep patterns to the new time zone. There are plenty of over-the-count er medications to help you sleep on the plane. Of course, staying hydrat ed is always advised. Our head of logistics wakes up at 2am the night before he flies, does a bunch of busy work, sleeps on the plane and wakes up in Germany. Ta da. Magic. But we find the best way to combat jet lag is get to your desti nation, pull on your kit, get fitted to your new F10 and get out the door on a beautiful bicycle ride.

THREE

FIVE

SEVEN

TEN

Arrive early. Depart late. Add a splash of some Lisbon, Porto, Florence, Venice, Rome or Nice to any of your inGamba trips and you will not regret the decision. If you need help with making this idea a reality, just reach out. We would be glad to help.

Bring comfortable shoes. We cannot stress how much better life is when you have happy feet. And if you’ve got some extra cash weighing you down – give our man Alessandro Stella a call and get your self some truly special kicks.

If you need anything while traveling with us, just ask. Truly. If you have a need, we will do everything in our power to meet it.

Need to call home? Get an international data plan, ask us to help you buy a sim card at a local cafe or bar or you can just wait until the next time you hit a wifi connection.

FOUR

SIX

Searching for an authentic souvenir can be a daunt ing task when traveling, as a lot of shops are filled with the same stuff you can buy in any major tourist destination in the world. Many a person has settled on taking home sausage and truffle oil from the airport as a gift. This never really works out so great. We recom mend you make sure to have the sizing and color palette preference for your significant other in hand, so you are prepared. And if you are about to purchase something, remember it should hurt just a little bit. If you need help finding the perfect gift, make sure you ask for our help. After all, we here at inGamba, are in-the-know.

Chamois cream is a thing of the past. Giordana has designed the Cirro Omni Form Chamois in our FR-C bibs to keep your privates comfortable all day long without the need to add extra lotion. They actually suggest the use of cham ois cream makes their kit perform poorly, block ing up the chamois. The uppermost layer of the FR-C bibs utilizes a special nylon microfiber which includes some Aloe Vera. The Aloe is permanently infused into the threads of the microfiber, pro tecting and even healing your personal bits while also helping out in the “under-carriage” cooling process. So no underth ings between you and your chamois and leave the ointments at home.

EIGHT Power and the internet. Most of the places we will visit have internet access, but be warned. The two things you will notice is, unlike what we are used to in the States, they like to use really long, long pass words and high speed is not really a thing. The key is to be entertained and remember the golden age of dial-up. As far as power is concerned you will see 2 prong, 3 prong and even 4 prong outlets depending on where you go. Prepare yourself with options and, as will everything else, if you are need of help … just ask.

NINE The travel cheque is dead. Bring your money card, credit card and a little Euro. The need for a chip is not nearly as pervasive as the travel websites and magazines would have you believe, but as mom used to say, better safe than sorry.

ELEVEN Turn off cellular data on your phone, especially if you did not buy that in ternational plan. Nothing worse than a surprisingly huge bill waiting for you when you get home.

TWELVE Just like the pros, we rec ommend you travel with your shoes, pedals and saddle in your carry-on bag. We can take care of everything else in a pinch, but you want to to take extra care of your feet and your bum.

FRASI FRASES PHRASES

— ITALIAN CYCLING PHRASES

ROADS AND COURSE CIMA › summit COLLINA › hill, slope CURVA › curve DISCESA › downhill GARA › race GARA A TAPPE › a stage race MONTAGNA › mountain MURO › ‘wall’: the short, hard climb into Radda PIANO › flat terrain, plains STRADA › road SALI-SCENDI OR MANGIA E BEVI › the road goes up and down all day VALICO › mountain pass

RIDING PHRASES AL GANCIO › On the hook, like meat in an abattoir. Not far from being COTTO ALLA RUOTA › on the wheel, usually about to go full gas COTTO › cooked, to be completely spent during or at the end of the race FARE L’ELASTICO › ‘making the elastic’: when riders at the back are strung out and the end looks like the tail of a dog wagging GRUPPO SPACCATO › when the main group has been blown apart after a series of attacks or a hard pace by one of the super domestiques or capos IL VENTAGLIO › riders doing an echelon in the cross-winds PEDALARE A MANI BASE › riding in the drops

PERDERE LE RUOTE › lose the wheel, get dropped SUCCHIA RUOTA › ‘to suck the wheel’: to stay close behind another rider and not pull through PERDERE IL VENTAGLIO › when you can’t make the echelon and get blown out the back of it

GENERAL CADUTA › crash CICLISTA › the rider CORIDOR › cyclist in the Veneto dialect FUGGITIVI › the breakaway GREGARIO › the domestique GRUPETTO › the laughing group, the last group in the race often arriving as we say “at night” GRUPPO COMPATTO › peloton is all together IL CAPOCLASSIFICA › GC leader SQUADRA › team TESTA DELLA CORSA › race leader TIFOSI › Italian cycling fans. Known for their dedication and spirit

VERBS AGGRAPPARE › to hang on, often for dear life as the pace is high BUCARE O FORARE › to flat CAMBIO DI PASSO › change of rhythm, often done by the gregario in the service of his capo di squadra SALIRE › to climb SCIVOLARE › to slide SUPERARE › to pass

RIDING STYLES ATTACANTE › a rider who is always attacking. Paolo Bettini DISCESISTA › a good descender. Paolo Salvodeli FONDISTA › a rider who has a lot of stamina and is good on long days or long stage races. Francesco Moser PASSISTA › the super domestique, who looks relaxed, like he’s going to the coffee shop for a simple cappuccino, when he’s actually hammering out watts. Eros Poli SCALATORE › the kind of climber who can make even the most daunting mountains look flat. Marco Pantani VELOCISTA › the sprinter. Mario Cipollini

— PORTUGUESE CYCLING PHRASES

ROADS AND COURSE COLINA › hill, slope CORRIDA › race CORRIDA POR ETAPAS › stage race CUME › summit CURVAR › turn or curve DESCIDA › downhill ESTRADA › road MONTANHA › mountain MURO › ‘wall’: a short, hard climb PASSAGEM DE MONTANHA › mountain pass PLANO › flat terrain, plains TERRENO ROLANTE › the road goes up and down all day

RIDING PHRASES DESCOLAR › lose the wheel, get dropped NO ELÁSTICO › ‘making the elastic’: when riders at the back are strung out and the end looks like the tail of a dog wagging PEDALAR NOS DROPS › riding in the drops PELOTÃO PARTIDO › when the main group has been blown apart after a series of attacks or a hard pace by one of the gregário REBENTADO › cooked, to be completely spent during or at the end of the race SEGUIR NA RODA › on the wheel, usually about to go full gas SUGAR A RODA › ‘to suck the wheel’: to stay close behind another rider and not pull through

GENERAL CICLISTA › the rider CORREDOR › cycling racer EQUIPA › team FUGA › the breakaway GREGÁRIO › the domestique GRUPETO › the laughing group, the last group in the race often arriving as we say “at night”; João often lived there GRUPO COMPACTO › peloton is all together HOMEM DA MARRETA › the figure of a man that comes with a hammer and hits a rider when you least expect. The rider gets so tired the race is over LÍDER DA CORRIDA › race leader LÍDER DA GERAL › GC leader QUEDA › crash

VERBS AGRUPAR › to hang on, often for dear life as the pace is high ARRANCAR › to climb DESLIZAR › to slide FURAR › to flat MUDANÇA DE RITMO › change of rhythm, often done by the gregário in the service of his líder da equipa ULTRAPASSAR › to pass

RIDING STYLES ATACANTE › a rider who is always attacking. Raul Matias DISCESISTA › a good descender. Manuel Cardoso

CORREDOR DE FUNDO › a rider who has a lot of stamina and is good on long days or long stage races. Joaquim Agostinho ATACANTE › the punchy rider who likes to change rhythm often, especially on climbs. Rui Costa SPRINTER › the sprinter. Candido Barbosa TREPADOR › the climber. Andre Cardoso

— FRENCH CYCLING PHRASES

ROADS AND COURSE COL › mountain pass COURBE › curve COURSE › race COURSE PAR ÉTAPES › a stage race DESCENTE › downhill MONTAGNE › mountain MUR › ‘wall’: the short, hard climb into Radda PETITE COLLE › hill, slope PLAT › flat terrain, plains ROUTE › road SOMMET › summit VALLONNÉ › the road goes up and down all day

RIDING PHRASES A LA ROUE › on the wheel, usually about to go full gas BORDURE › riders doing an echelon in the cross-winds CROCHER › On the hook, like meat in an abattoir. Not far from being CUITS CUITS › cooked, to be completely spent during or at the end of the race FAIRE L’ÉLASTIQUE › ‘making the elastic’: when riders at the back are strung out and the end looks like the tail of a dog wagging GROUPE CASSÉ › when the main group has been blown apart after a series of attacks or a hard pace by one of the super domestiques or capos PÉDALER MAIN BAS › riding in the drops PERDRE LA BORDURE › when you can’t make the echelon and get blown out the back of it

PERDRE LES ROUES › lose the wheel, get dropped SUCE ROUE › ‘to suck the wheel’: to stay close behind another rider and not pull through

GENERAL AUTOBUS › the laughing group, the last group in the race often arriving as we say “at night” CHUTE › crash CHEF AUTOBUS › the teambus driver ÉCHAPPÉE › the breakaway ÉQUIPE › team GROUPE COMPACT › peloton is all together LEADER DU CLASSEMENT GÉNÉRAL › GC leader LES TIFOS › the most hardcore cycling fans. Known for their dedication and spirit TÊTE DE LA COURSE › the race leader

VERBS ACCROCHER › to hang on, often for dear life as the pace is high CHANGEMENT DE PAS › change of rhythm, often done by the gregario in the service of his capo di squadra CREVER › to flat GLISSER › to slide GRIMPER › to climb PERCER › to flat SURMONTER › to pass

RIDING STYLES ATTAQUANT › the kind of rider who attacks at every opportunity. Thomas Voekler EN DANSEUSE › Riding out of the saddle, standing and swinging the bike back and forth. Richard Virenque DESCENDEUR › a good descender. Laurent Jalabert DOMESTIQUE › the domestique. Pierre-Henri Lecuisinier GRIMPEUR › the climber. Raymond Poulidor ROULEUR › the big diesel engine that can just keep going, happiest on long days. Sylvain Chavanel SPRINTEUR › the sprinter. Nacer Bouhanni

I woke up early on the 12th of June. It was a cloudy, rainy day, and I went for a little walk around the hotel before breakfast. We had a hard day ahead of us – starting straight into a big mountain – and I was a bit nervous. I’ve never liked stages like this: A big climb early and more than 2000m altitude gain. Plus, I’d just come back from a crash where I suffered a broken collarbone, and my form wasn’t good yet. So I’m sitting at the hotel with my breakfast and coffee when I see an ashen, nervous face coming into the hall. It was obvious that Mister João Correia was just as anxious about the day’s ride as me. We started in a lovely little town called Ascona, well up the valley, where it’s placed in the end of Lago di Maggio re. A breakaway went and things looked to be going well for us. But some teams weren’t happy with the break and went hard up the Simplonpass.

We suffered a lot – me, João and at least half of the bunch. A few kilometers from the top, I saw João coming back through the peloton like a rock. I passed him, and said straight out: “If you loose my wheel I will smash you.” Of course, he couldn’t reply, considering the state he was in. I did not see him for at least an hour after this. I was sure he was gone from the group, and afraid he’d stopped the race. But in the valley of the other side of the mountain, João passed the bunch with four or five bottles at his back. We went really fast, so I was surprised see him moving up. Always a great teammate, he wanted to give his last to us. Unfortunately, he cramped halfway up through the peloton and didn’t make it. With his legs off the pedals – stiff as a piece of oak – he come back as fast as I moved up… still with all the bidons on his back. He was unable to

BLOOD, SWEAT & GEARS Words by Thor Hushovd

touch the pedals, and when I passed him he was scream ing out of pain. I was sure that he would never finish this stage, especially since we had another hard hill before the finish. But I was wrong. After a while – I mean a long while – João walked onto the bus. He was all wrapped up and there was blood every where. There had been a crash on the final descent where one guy wrecked into a house and was badly hurt. There was an ambulance waiting at the turn, so when João came a bit too fast into that corner, he went straight into the ambulance stretcher! He told me after that he was sure at that moment he broke his leg. Instead, he stood up and fin ished the stage. Well done, my friend! He didn’t even finish last on the stage. That honor belonged to a rider he’s still managing today, Laurens ten Dam, who was laying in the stretcher João crashed in to, and was DNF on the results.

THOR HUSHOVD IS WIDELY CONSIDERED THE GREATEST NORWEGIAN CYCLIST OF ALL TIME. A MULTIPLE NATIONAL CHAMPION, HE ALSO WON THE GREEN JERSEY TWICE AT THE TOUR DE FRANCE AS WELL AS MULTIPLE STAGES IN ALL THREE GRAND TOURS. IN 2010 HE WON THE WORLD CHAMPIONSHIPS.

inGamba is the collaboration of a few people who wanted to share their passions for riding a bicycle, eating great food and drinking fantastic wine. We strive to live each “perfect week” fully while introducing our guests to a world they may not know existed. inGamba was born from a simple tweet: “Thinking of doing a ride, eat, drink EOY bash here in chianti October 12 – 18th” , said @joaoisme. “Share my favorite things about this place. Who’s interested?” Four brave souls – Gary Smith, Kevin Irvine, Jason Probert and Robin Kelly – answered. There were no security deposits, no liability waivers, just as Kevin put it “a huge amount of trust”. The adventure writer Bill Gifford added words to the narrative; Jason Gould provided images while Joe Staples, Andrew Reed, Michael Scher and Tony Little created the canvas. The original team consisted of Raul Matias, Jorge Queirós, João Correia and the kind people of Lecchi in Chianti whose world we share with a few lucky travelers each year. From these humble beginnings sprouted this thing we call inGamba.