Volterra in Tuscany
May 7 1999

Distance: 40 miles/65 kms
Elevation: 3,890 feet/1,200 meters
Difficulty: 5/10
Scenery: 7/10;
Route: San Gimignano-Larniano-la Madonnina-SS68-Volterra-
SS439-Montaperti-Vicarello-Larniano-San Gimignano

I arrived in San Gimignano at 16:30 after an extremely long and stressful day of travelling. I had to wake up at 3:30AM to catch the first train to London Stansted for my 7:10 flight to Pisa. The actual flight time was only two hours from London to Pisa, but after factoring in flight delays, train delays, and missed connections resulting from the delays, it had taken me, door-to-door, over 12 hours to get to San Gimignano from North London. Needless to say, I couldn’t wait to go out and ride and to work off the tension from my travel.

This was the first time I had taken Erasmus disassembled in his special-purpose case, so I was quite anxious to put him back together to make sure he made it through the trip OK. I had ordered Erasmus as a travel bike fitted with a precision lug (from S&S) that allows the frame to be broken up in two for ease of transportation. The collapsed bike fits in a purpose-built hardcase sold by S&S. The dimensions of the case conform (just) within all airlines’ luggage-size guidelines. The whole system, in theory, allows one the twin luxury of transporting the bike without worrying about damage in transit as well as riding one’s own "standard" bike kitted to one’s specifications instead of a clunky rental or a midget bike.

As to the ride of a bike that had been cut in half, I can confidently say that it is no different than any other bike’s. In fact, once in the road, one tends to forget that the couplings are there. Now, transporting the bike is a different story.

Because the case is square (approximately the size of a wheel), it isn’t very stable, and is quite "tippy." Thus, instead of rolling the case, I have to lift it or push it between train platforms and in the streets, awkward shape and all. With the bike and the clothes inside, the case tips in at a hefty 21-23 kgs (50 pounds), so one can’t just dash in and out of airports and run between platforms dragging one of these.

It was 17:30 when I managed to put Erasmus together again (the S&S people promised 15 minutes each of assembly/disassembly time, which seemed quite a bit ambitious—I shall have to see whether I could approach that target as I get more practice).

(Above: The view from just outside San Gimignano)

I would be in Tuscany for four days and I had planned four rides, including one for today, the day of my arrival. But I hadn’t anticipated that getting to San Gimignano would take up most of the day, leaving me few precious hours of daylight for bike riding.

I took a hurried glance at the map for a quick orientation and then rolled out on my way to Volterra, frazzled and tired, but excited and happy to have finally gotten on my way.

Since San Gimignano is on top of a hill, I started with a quick descent from the its north gate, following the road to Certaldo for about a kilometer, and then headed west at the next junction.

The afternoon was quite warm, and although it was close to 18:00, the sun was still up and right in my face. It had been a while since I felt the warmth of the sun, and the rays helped brighten my mood considerably. Also, Erasmus appeared to have survived the trip quite well; I started to appreciate the benefits of the technology that made the day’s ride possible.

As advertised, the Tuscan terrain was undulating. All of the day's tension melted away as Erasmus and I got in a riding groove. The road was beautiful, with each uphill revealing hills bathed in the golden-glow of late-afternoon sunshine. Here and there, one could just make out outlines of distant hillside settlements. Behind me stood the striking San Gimignano skyline notable for its medieval towers, those brick structures now imbued with a rich vermillion hue by the sun, prominent towers standing tall and reaching out to the cobalt-blue sky. In front of me, the road kept climbing steadily, although not as severely as did the roads in England's Peak District where I had ridden a week ago.

(Above: A classic Tuscan landscape near Reserva Natural Castelvecchio)

I reached a T-intersection following a long climb and turned left towards Riserva Naturale Castelvecchio. This stretch was appropriately charming, especially the view of vineyards clinging to the hillsides. The road was built high on a ridge and in places was exposed to fairly strong gusts of wind. Because of its elevated setting, the road also provided a bird’s eye-view of the sweeping scenery down below, and of a brooding, mysterious settlement that rose above everything around it—the Etruscan town of Volterra.

(Above: Looking west. Volterra sits atop the dark hill in the middleground)

My original plan was to cut west halfway down the road I was on and to approach Volterra from what appeared to be (from my map) a minor road emanating from La Madoninna, through Sensano and Ulignano. But not all towns and settlements identified in my map were signposted (or if they were, not in places I had expected the signs to be), and I missed the turning. (This was an experience, I was later to find out, that would be repeated throughout the trip.) It didn’t occur to me until days later that the only road I passed, an unpaved one, was the same road indicated on the map. Being used to Michelin and Ordnance Survey maps, I had assumed that unpaved roads would be so indicated in the Italian Marco Polo maps.

(Above: Halfway down the road through the Reserva Natural)

So I was quite surprised when, after a fast descent of a couple of miles, I emerged out of a smoothly paved road with fast-moving traffic and a sign indicating that Castel San Gimignano was 4 kilometers to the east. Having just ridden a pristine and serene road, I was a bit surprised to come upon this one. It was the SS68, an Italian "A" road. I had two options: (1) turn around and climb the 5 kilometers back to La Madoninna (which I didn’t even recall seeing) and try to find the minor road, or (2) hunker down and try to ride the SS68 to Volterra as quickly as possible. By this time, most of the valleys were already in shadows, shielded from the setting sun by the hills that surrounded them. I was a bit apprehensive about riding a busy road in Italy because of the Italians’ reputation for fast, and even reckless, driving. But in the end, time considerations prevailed and I decided to get on the SS68 and approach Volterra from the south. From the junction, the SS68 descended for about 3 kilometers or 2 miles before levelling out for another 3 kilometers. Since it was nearly 7PM, traffic was comparatively light, though still fast. But the drivers were surprisingly considerate. This may be because many of them, like me, were tourists and were exploring unfamiliar terrain. Besides, we were in Tuscany, what’s the hurry? Tuscany’s medieval cities had stood still for hundreds of years, and they’re not about to disappear any time soon.

(Above: The settlement of Volterra as seen from the north)

The climactic climb started about 3 miles away. I remembered looking up and scanning the road as it climbed, and I feeling a bit dispirited because the road travelled a long way up the hill before disappearing into the backlit brilliance of Volterra's silhouetted southern wall.

(Below: At the top of the climb, just outside Volterra "proper")

The climb was quite a long one and even included a few switchbacks near the top. The curvature of the road, the switchbacks, and the surrounding scenery gave the climb an Alpine quality to it. Getting to Volterra was quite strenuous—I would estimate the final approach to average between 7-9%, with short pitches in the 10-12% neighborhood. I also imagine that riding this road in the middle of the day with cars all around could get unnerving, so I was pleased with my nocturnal timing.

Last Updated: June 05, 1999