Giro d'Chianti
(conclusion)

Tucked away further up the hill, another fortified settlement with an obvious martial past crept into view. After a seemingly interminable stretch of climbing, I was drenched with sweat, sweat that stung my eyes, as I crested the hill and rode into the town’s center (that is, if a place no more than two city blocks long can ever truly have a center). My sweaty apparition in a self-propelled contrivance drew loaded stares and near-gasps from a score of well-groomed (and obviously well-heeled, judging from the muscular Mercedes Benzes parked to the side) tourists congregated at Volpaia’s only commercial establishment, a quaint-looking trattoria by the entrance. It seemed incomprehensible to them that one can get to the place without use of fossil fuel.

(Above: Volpaia)

Volpaia was an exceedingly attractive town, medieval almost in its entirety. Among the attractions were a medieval dungeon and an 15th century church of San Eufrosino. Save for the aforementioned Brooks-Brothers types, the place had very few visitors. My map had the name printed in small type, so presumably very few tourists know about it. Volpaia , built in the 12th century, turned out to be an important military lookout in the middle ages for the valley below. Anyway, to me the place appeared to have been frozen in time. It was serendipity that brought me here, and was I glad I headed in the direction I did!

(Above and Below: More pictures from Volpaia)

After taking in the serene majesty of Volpaia’s settlement, I followed the road (the only road) out north to continue my ride. I was stopped on my tracks after 50 yards: the pavement abruptly ended and in its place, a gravelly dirt road that, upon closer examination, appeared compacted enough for Erasmus to ride over. Still, my map showed 9.5kms of road before Panzano and the SS222 (which must surely be paved). I hesistated, not knowing what lay ahead. I decided to give it a go after an older gentleman reassured me that, although unpaved throughout, the road should be hard enough for my 700x19 skinnies to ride on.

(Above and Below: Incubo d'bicicletta corsa: the unpaved, uphill road north of Volpaia)

The road climbed from Volpaia (at around 1,800 feet) to over 2,500 feet and followed the southern flanks of Monte Quirciabella. Or so my map told me—I was too busy concentrating on steering Erasmus through the unpaved, gravelly terrain that I had not taken much notice of the surroundings. I lowered the pressure on my tire for better traction and to help prevent punctures. The road was up and down throughout. Needless to say, I made very slow progress. Inevitably, one of the tires (thankfully, the front one) punctured. Stupidly, I had not checked my puncture repair kit before I left London. I was mortified when I saw that the glue had dried up. I was only halfway through this frustrating road, and if I were to puncture again, well…I didn’t know. Walk? Hitch? Worse yet, the next day was a Sunday, so fat chance of me being able to find an bike shop that would be open. I was very tense from my predicament and I don’t think I’ve ever looked forward to seeing asphalt as I did then. I emerged out of the torturous dirt road, more than an hour later, rattled from the rough ride, mentally exhausted from the intense concentration it required. Thus I saw the price Italians pay for the well-maintained main roads—very few of the minor roads, roads that would almost certainly be at least paved in the UK and in the US, were maintained or looked after. It’s as if all the money had gone to getting the Italians from one major town to the next as quickly as possible that the humble network of backroads had not been provided for. I had heard that this was the case in many other European countries.

(Above and Below: Lovely scenery on the way to Panzano, albeit the road continued unpaved)

I reached Panzano after a short climb of about 150 feet on a busy stretch of SS222. This was shortly followed by an exhilarating 500-foot descent a valley where the town of Greve was located. Greve was a touristic false advertising if there ever was one. Though it rated a one-star "worth a detour" rating on my Marco Polo map, there wasn’t much to see there. This was confirmed by the fact that Greve’s tourist office was full of information about Firenze (a short 23 kms to the north) and some of the other Chianti destinations (almost all outside of Greve). I had intended to cut across from Greve due west to Certaldo, but the terrifying thought of reliving my dirt-road nightmare in Volpaia (a fear confirmed by a chain-smoking signorina at the Greve tourist office) forced me to turn around, retrace my route, and to ride up the the SS222 back to Panzano.

(Above: Looking west from Panzano towards

This was followed by an even longer, and steeper, climb to Pietrafitta. These back-to-back efforts effectively sapped my strength, and Castellina, where I stopped for lunch almost 4 hours ago, came just at the right time. I was shaking with hunger when I reached the town. As Dickens might say, I did ample justice to the repast before me: a bunch of grapes, a couple of biscotti, te di limoni, and a wonderfully strong local cheese whose name I didn’t quite get. Thus restored, I continued on my way back.

(Above: Back on paved road: fast downhill on the S222 from Panzano towards Greve)

From Castellina, it was an 11-mile, 1,200 foot magic-carpet downhill ride back to Poggibonsi on the SS429. My strength was sufficiently restored by the time I’ve negotiated Poggibonsi’s busy streets (and its traffico veloce) for the strenuous ending 650-foot climb back up to San Gimignano and a restorative cup of cappuccino.

Last Updated: June 10, 1999