Thursday, 12 September 2013

Shaddap You Face...Tuesday 10th September 2013.

Once a song gets in your head for the day then sometimes it's there all, there's no need to thank me!


Nice gaff...we only ever see a place for a few hours and then sod-off.
Today's forecast was for rainy nonsense: of course you get damp anyway when you climb above the cloud-line. So much for the stunning views!

Here we go again!

Always a dodgy tunnel to negotiate. Don't hang around.

Another day, another country. Same chocolates are still pricey though...

This was another hard, hard day- there's a pattern forming here, isn't there? At least I didn't make the same mistake as yesterday by not eating enough and felt so much more able as a result. Almost enjoyable at times!

Descent started off dry...

...but not for long. Careful...brakes turning to mush!

The Zoncolan had a real kick-up for it's last two miles with gradients in excess of 20%...weaving all round but we did it. Felt good about that...handshakes all round at the top!

A-top of The Zoncolan with Peter, Nick and Il Tractore. We earned that posing.

I let Nick and Andy go ahead and they overshot the first corner. I'm still laughing!

However I did have a lucky escape of sorts: I was just exiting a corner when Nick shouted to me that I had a flat rear tyre...caused by the heat build-up from friction on the wheel rims, believe-it-or-not. All new to me, and from then on we stop at regular intervals to check the wheel rim temperatures. F1? Do one. Sorry Dean, hah-hah!

Il Tractore offers management guidance. First replacement tube was faulty, which was nice.

A joy to descend...eats brake blocks and tyre tubes, mind!

The Cannibal!

Yeah, it's all to do with The Giro d'Italia.
It was a real long, cold drag until the descent into Auronzo and our basic hotel...a long and tough day hence no blog. The rule of thumb as to just how bad a day is if you really aren't arsed if you have a beer or not: tonight was a dry night. Yeah, it can occasionally happen, hah-hah!

Auronzo at last...end of a big day...

Il Tractore and myself were rooming with Dean that night: the bloke is built like an outhouse but was struggling a bit. That night he was wheezing and making it sound like each laboured breath was going to be his last.
As collective patience wore a little thin, I reckon we almost wished that it was, hah-hah! Top bloke.

The world's most ridiculous wi-fi password. It didn't bloody work either hence another late blog, hah-hah!

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