Final France Post!

At dawn of our last day in Briancon, the melancholy of a nearly elapsed vacation began to settle in to the psyche. We had hoped to cram a climb of the Izoard into the final day, but the margin for error was too slim. Bummer. No Izoard. Just typing this haunts ME.

Instead, we packed the bikes. Double bummer. The finality of disassembling the bike on a vacation induces black moods. The best cure is an ommelette!

A leisurely breakfast in Briancon revealed the only cranky French guy on our trip. The waiter at Cafe' de la Vigne* was not a fan of us Murricans. Or the English language. And particularly not of Herr Doktor. For some reason, despite numerous attempts to communicate his order, our garçon* grincheux* actively ignored the Doc. Ironically, the only thing Doc wanted was an omelette*. Instead, he got a Leffe.

For some reason, dividing the bill was a task requiring 3 people. Thankfully there were no rogue bees involved, or we may have never been able to pay. After breakfast we loped back to Alessandro's pad, and checked out of our home base. That guy is awesome. Next time we go back to France, we are staying there again. I will have you, Izoard.

Italian Hair 

Drive/Drive/Drive/Drive.Stop to Pee. Drive/Drive/Drive.

We are back in Geneva. Yay. Somehow we got booked in a different hotel than our Sleestack buddy, the Ticket. He dropped us off at the Hotel EastWest, and headed back to the N'Vy. Our concierge* was excellent, a blend of full-on German efficiency and American-style customer service. Great hotel if you are ever in Geneva, and want to drop $400 a night. That city is ridiculous.

Our last supper was in the old town of Geneva. Everyone regrouped individually, and migrated to Hôtel Les Armures for some genuine old school Geneva fare. Guess what the traditional dish is in Geneva? Fondue, of course. And some Côtes du Rhône.

The Following Description of Dinner was originally written in French, then Google Translated:

• Fine restaurant dining availability to us made happy to the crowds. Many joke laughs were made by the friends of the Alps' pig. But all were to the betterment atmosphere. Truly a night of great. Food served by the native person in professional suit made for great and real flavors. Memory greatness in the spaces of moments between forks and spoons. Below enjoy evening pictures for the happy food.

Does this rash look serious?

Old Towns are Everywhere Over There

Cougars Roam the Streets of Old Town

I shaved, like five minutes ago!

Ta-Da!

DTG! (Dessert to Go!) and The Ticket

 Action Shot

The Ullrichs!

It was a great dinner. Post-dinner, many of us stopped at the Four Seasons. I guess we really wanted to FULLY understand how expensive this town was. After some serious tourist wrangling, the Doc got us seated at the bar. Our presence went over like a turd in the fondue pot. The locals did NOT like the look of us rogue american austinites, bedecked in TShirts and flippity flops. Almost immediately, the tables around us began to empty. Hilarious!! Even funnier? A vodka tonic cost 40 Euro. WTF? Is the tonic blessed by a Hall of Fame Pope? Seriously, I am never going back to Geneva. Highlight of the 4 Seasons was watching Doc hit on the bartender. Not a match. He is not well-capitalized, and her teeth were too european. So Seinfeldian! After that gold-gilded drink, the night was over.

We woke at the CRACK o dawn to get to the airport. At the beginning of the commute, Ticket looked like this:

They Call me Captain America!

Thanks to Jehovah that we left early, because navimagating** to the airport was a Shit Show Extraordinaire. The written directions we were given were wholly inadequate. Then google dropped us in some tiny ass town right next to the airport. The whole thing was magnified by this "French Side/Swiss Side" controversy that was piping to our phones from the other car. End Result? We got there. Meanwhile, in the other van, Ullrich managed to drop off his people, but got lost on the way to the rental car return. He got a bonus trip in the French (or maybe Swiss?) countryside. Seriously French/Swiss people, how about some signage?

Now, talk about stress. Ticket had to park the equivalent of a Sprinter van in a subterranean, Euro-sized parking spot designed for a Smart Car. He did a fracking phenomenal job getting lined up and backed in. As he scooted the thing back, a grinding noise filled the air. while still 1/4 of the van was out of the parking space, there was a huge air vent about five feet off the ground, against the wall. Air Vent 1, Back Window 0. This put a huge pall on the rest of the morning. But, that guy is bigger than his problems. Oh, and that van is bigger than that parking space.

I'm Bigger Than My Problems...

We made the flight. enjoyed the fun of Heathrow AND JFK all in one trip. Made it home, though the bike arrived the following day. It's been a month since we returned, and I still miss it. I guess it was a pretty damn good vacation.

*French Words!
**George W Bush Word!

Post #8 Galibier! Télégraphe! Oh Yeah, This IS a bike vacation!!

This was such a spectacular day. Words cannot capture the absolute grandeur of this ride. Oh Hell, let's give it a try.The ride plan for the day:

• Drive the White Paddy Wagon up to the Lautaret. 
• Warm up a bit. 
• Then Climb the South Face of the Galibier. 
• Celebrate. 
• Descend in joyous anticipation to Valloire. 
• Climb the South Face of the Télégraphe (which is a little hind-tit of a Col). 
• Celebrate. 
• Descend to St. Michel de Maurienne in somewhat joyous/anxious anticipation. 
• Commemorate our presence there for a second consecutive day. 
• Then turn around and start W.O.R.K.

Our Crew comprised Ticket, Whip Gingerhammer, Ullrich and Herr Doktor.

FUN FACTS ABOUT OUR ROUTE (Wikipedia is pretty neat!)
Col du Galibier (el. 2,645 metres (8,678 ft)) is a mountain pass in the southern region of the French Dauphiné Alps near Grenoble (unless the tunnel is out). It is the ninth highest paved road in the Alps and the sixth highest mountain pass. It is often the highest point of the Tour de France.

It connects Saint-Michel-de-Maurienne and Briançon via the col du Télégraphe and the Col du Lautaret. The pass is closed during the winter. It is located between the massif d'Arvan-Villards and the massif des Cerces, taking its name from the secondary chain of mountains known as the Galibier.

From the south, the climb starts from the Col du Lautaret (el. 2,058 metres (6,752 ft)) and is 8.5 kilometres (5.3 mi) long at an average gradient of 6.9% (height gain: 585 metres (1,919 ft)) with a maximum of 12.1% at the summit.

Let's Get it Started!

We started right where the graph above gets Nantucket Red. And no I am not gay. Note that Yeti and Wife covered this route from Briancon on this same day, which covers the entire graph listed above. They slept late, as Yetis do, and rolled from the house. SuperK stopped at the Lautaret, and the Brazilianed Hairy Monster climbed the whole thing. This is all I know about their Ride. And here are a few pics. They look like they had fun, right?

Yay Us! 

Todd's Bike Makes a Great Background!

My Kit is Older than that Glacier!

OK - back to the vertical saga. We kept a pretty controlled pace up the first climb. Everyone finished in less than 50 minutes.Wattage varied by the mass of carcass each pulled up the Hill.

Here is the Ticket at the top:

Sorry Dude, You Still Can't Fly

Here is Ullrich:

That...Was...Easy...

And here is Dr and ME:

When you write the blog, your pictures are naturally bigger.

After photo ops, we began the bombing process. I am kind of a Puss when it comes to many things, including going fast down European switchbacks with no guard rails. So, as my brakes were put to max use, everyone, but particularly the Dr, gained max time. He stopped in Valloire, ordered an espresso and a Nutella Crêpe and commenced to defiling the bathroom of the establishment. The rest of us caught up eventually. Crêpes and espresso all around! So Euro!

At this point in the ride, the Ticket decided both sides of the Galibier were enough for one day. Fully understandable, given his Grenoble accident,** and his Dwayne Schintzius body mass. we bid the big fella au revior,* rolled out of Valloire and started the climb up the South side of the Télégraphe. Before we knew it, we were in celebration mode again!

South Side of Télégraphe Smiley Face

As you can see behind ME, the road was pretty busy with our two-wheeled brethren. Truly amazing how many cyclists were on the Mountain. As we bombed down to the valley, we passed tons of Italians, Australians, French, English. Not too many Americans.

He's got a big mouth!

We bombed to the bottom, back to the town where we watched LeTour.

Once in St. Michel, we could descend no more. At this point, we were fully pregnant. I felt it inspiring to share some insight that Jack (cycling coach and a veteran of Alps Cols) gave me regarding our day's ride plan. When asked about the feasibility of a Galibier/Télégraphe out and back, the question triggered a thoughtful pause. After reflection, Jack said "That....would be a long day in the Alps." Given that we had just descended for about an hour, this was kind of a "no-shit" moment for Doc and Ullrich. Still, when a powerhouse like Jack (all 135lbs of him) judges an effort difficult, it makes one pucker up appropriately.


More Galibier/Télégraphe Climb Facts-
From the north, starting at Saint-Michel-de-Maurienne (including the Col du Télégraphe), the entire climb is 34.8 kilometres (21.6 mi) long, gaining 2,120 metres (6,960 ft) in height (an average of 6.1%). The actual climb to the summit starts at Valloire and is 18.1 kilometres (11.2 mi) long at an average of 6.9% (height gain: 1,245 metres (4,085 ft)). The maximum gradient is 10.1% at the summit.

The Col du Galibier was first used in the Tour de France in 1911; the first rider over the summit was Emile Georget, who, with Paul Duboc and Gustave Garrigou were the only riders not to walk. None of us walked, by the way. Of course, back in 1911, they rode single speeds, carried their own spare tyres, and smoked cigarettes/drank whiskey to recover.

The climb up the Télégraphe was awesome. I followed Doc relatively closely, and we regrouped with Ullrich at least once. The grades on the climb were a very consistent 7%, and shaded by trees nearly the entire climb. Switchbacks aplenty, and tons of cyclists in front of us to focus on.

Doc and I summited the Télégraphe in 1:04, Ullrich rolled in at 1:17, with the smile you see above.

One of the things that made this trip spectacular was the stops. We stopped in Valloire (at the same place we had nutella Crêpes) for lunch. Pizza, salad, fries, and a Coke. It was an awesome break in the coolest French hamlet atmosphere. Midway through lunch we made friends with some wine drinking French vacationers at the next table. Well, I think we made friends. They spoke no English, and we are French-disabled.

Here is my translation of the conversation:
(Please read this with a French Accent)

We as French people celebrate lunch with wine and desert every day. You as cyclists will earn the right to celebrate once you get to the top of the Galibier. We as French people think climbing the Galibier is pretty awesome. We have no idea where Texas is located, nor do we care. We are French! And we pretty much hate Lance Armstrong. But you guys seem pretty cool.

We rolled out of Valloire about five pounds heavier, smiling, fat and happy. After five minutes of climbing, we were just fat. The first 45 minutes post-lunch was tough. The stomach was not interested in more climbing.It voted for system shutdown! It eventually relented, unlike the mountain. The Galibier was a crucible. After the previous efforts, it tested both fitness and resolve, burning off ego and braggadocio with only true fitness, power/weight reality, and desire remaining.

Interesting Note: On both sides of the Col du Galibier mountain pass, cycling milestones are placed every km. They indicate the distance to the summit, the current altitude, and the average slope in the upcoming km. These tombstones, I mean milestones, are alternatively helpful and psychologically damaging. Knowing the excruciating upcoming details can be potent NEGATIVE psychological fuel,Those damned km markers taunted ME repeatedly. It seemed like they popped up every half mile.

Translation: "GET OFF THE BIKE"

On the way up, our French lunchmates actually stopped and cheered us on at three different spots on the climb! "Allez! Allez! Allez! Would they do that in New York? Advantage France!

We regrouped once on the way up, at a stinky cheese co-op. Doc, who had dropped me immediately after lunch, was chatting with a French couple. They were semi-impressed with our effort, in truly French fashion. After this stop, I saw the Doc get progressively smaller until the summit.

In the last km, there was a photographer earning some cash for documenting our suffering. I later found out that all of us reacted to the camera guy thusly:

1. We noticed he was there.
2. We slowed down a bit, zipped up the kits, adjusted the glasses.
3. We cranked it up as we got into the picture taking zone.
4. We smiled like it was a total walk in the park.
5. We got past the picture guy.
6. We stopped and got off the bike.
7. We acted like we were taking a selfie.
8. We were actually trying to breathe.

 For the Camera...

For the record...

The original Galibier summit was at 2,556 meters, with the pass going through a tunnel. I was wishing it was bike accessible. At the south portal of the tunnel, at the edge of the road, there is apparently a monument to Henri Desgrange, founder of the Tour de France. The memorial was inaugurated when the tour passed through in 1949. Whenever the tour crosses the Galibier, a wreath is laid on the memorial. The "Souvenir Henri Desgrange" is awarded to the first rider across the summit of the highest mountain in each year's tour. They were passing out no wreaths when I rolled through.

Since 1947, the Galibier has been crossed 31 times by the Tour de France. It would have been 32 this year. Damn tunnel. Can you imagine the stress this route, PLUS d"Huez would have put on Froome? Perhaps the tunnel collapse was a SKY job? Let the conspiracy theories begin!!

The summit was as much relief as accomplishment. The last three kms were super tough. Around three hours of climbing in all. Positive Note: The roads were pristine. French Butter. But steep at the top, with some grades around 10%. All in, Strava had ME at 14,300 feet for the day, in 70 miles. That included coasting down the Laturaret for about 20 miles at the end. Pretty sweet to get over 14k of climb out of a 50 mile out and back. Can't find that many places. At the top, the French couple from the cheese shop were there. They bid us a congratulations on our accomplishment. I love the French.

We bombed down to Lautaret after a short break. Later, Ullrich told me that our French lunch friends were waiting for him at the top as well. Vive le France!!  French bike culture is truly phenomenal.

Ladies Day
I wasn't there, but I hear the ladies had some good times in Briancon that day. They chilled, shopped and chilled some more. They tackled some math problems (like what is 34 divided by 3?) and battled some alcoholic bees. It was a landmark day all around! Here are some pics:

 Coffee, Croissants & Culture

 Shopping in the Old Town is Hard Work!

 Bungee Time - Well Not For Us...

Gargoyle's Foot, One Day Later

NEXT UP: Post #9 - Last Night in Briancon/Last Night in Geneva




Footnotes
* French for "I wish I was joining you"

**Accident is a French word. I suspect it is pronounced "Oxidahnt" but have no formal training in this regard.

Post #7 Vive Le Tour. Vive Le France!

That Damn Tunnel.

Once again, the law of entropy* haunted the Texas Crew. The covered tunnel** created another crazy journey. We all PASSED on driving back to d'Huez, a 3.5 hour nail biter through the rowdiest, drunkest moutainside gauntlet you can imagine. While it would have been a legendary way to enjoy the race, we are all middle-aged after all. Instead, we opted for a shorter 1.5 hour dive to St. Michelle de Maurienne. A quaint town located about 5k from the start of the stage.

So Very French

We got up EARLY in order to ensure we did not miss our 15 professional seconds.**

Apparel for the stage viewing was carefully planned. Everyone but the Doktor was ALL-IN to make a statement at LeTour. While eye catching, it was:

After the previous evening, a few of us were in rough shape. Ullrich, of course struggled to regain his usual pep. And Herr Doktor was also a little off his game. We all piled into the 9-seater and off we went. Our route minimized but did not eliminate switchbacks. Also interesting, we had the opportunity to pay 65Euros EACH WAY in tolls through a tunnel. It was a great tunnel** but sheesh. We stopped for gas and espresso halfway. In France, the espresso is inexpensive but awesome, and the Cokes are super-pricey. The French have us beat in this regard. We got to Maurienne in time, and grabbed one of the last parking spots. Here are some pics of the Crew:

Ladies First!

So Pro, but no Dr in Tow

Skoda Fan Pic!

As we waited, a guy from Skoda came up and asked to take our picture, and a video for some contest. For you Amurricans, Skoda is a carmaker, not a brand of tobacco. He took videos of the ladies and the guys separately. So it was game on! The guys went first. He told us to say something to the camera. We sheepishly mustered a "Vive le France" followed by some nervous laughter.

https://www.welovecycling.com/fr/fantour/project/texas-is-here-for-tour-de-france/

The ladies had the advantage of time to prep, and belted out a sweet "Deep in the Heart of Texas"...Well, most of them did. Check out LingLing for some real entertainment!

https://www.welovecycling.com/fr/fantour/project/texas-girls/

The rest of the morning was a hurry up and wait game. We survived!

Breakfast Leffes All Around!

Collage is a French Word!

Highlights of the wait included the Yeti making friends across the globe. These new mates included a future CX champion from Great Britain. They actually exchanged jerseys! He also met a Scottish German student who resides permanently in Australia. This world is confusing, right? Lunch was forgettable. People really took an interest in our Crew's gear. Not always in a positive fashion. Finally, the race came through. First it was a cavalcade of sponsor cars, all chucking out useless CPS*** to the French masses. They loved it. And so did we. 

Then. FINALLY. THE RACE! LeTOUR!!

See Yeti's video of the Race:

And then it was over.

WRAPUP

I am sure you all are wondering about the Skoda contest. Unbelievably, the guys made the final 10 videos for the Stage. While the ladies were much more energized, they failed to understand their audience. They sang "Deep in the Heart of Texas" with gusto. We kinda mumbled "Vive le France." As Louis XVI learned the hard way, you gotta give the French people what they want. You know, in French. A link to the historic video is below:

https://www.welovecycling.com/fr/fantour/videos/

See You for Post #8!

NEXT POST - BIKE TIME IS FUN! 

FOOTNOTES

* In researching for this entry, I found a site that blew up my "laymen's view" of the second law of thermodynamics. I learned in high school that the second law of thermodynamics, loosely defined was "A closed system tends toward an increasing amount of disorder." Since I barely made it through physics, my memory is as hazy as the air outside the foot of the gargoyle. Anyway, this is apparently incorrect in the world of the naturalist. I won't bore you with details that I don't understand, but I am a Layman**. Yes I am. I would include a link to the site, but it is run by a godless naturalist. I bet he is a pretty boring dude.

**AT would interpret this phrase pruriently.

***Cheap Plastic Shit

Post #6 - The Hills are Alive, With the Sound of the Pig of the Alps!

Our day dawned early. We slept late. With Ullrich still in Italy, the rest of us arose with hiking on the agenda, followed by lunch and dinner in Briancon. No bike day! [cyclists, tune in to #7 for the Tour Day, and #8 for the best day on the bike].

First thing:

Hiking - We drove up to the Lautaret (Ticket/Toni/Yeti/SG/JJ and ME), as we had spied some sweet trails the previous day. The hike was really awesome. It involved walking. First, mostly up. Then around the second half of the hike, it became mostly down. Ignore my sarcasm for the moment. It was incredibly beautiful scenery. Plus, we all learned the appropriate way to say "Bon Jour!" as it was offered up to us by every person in every hiking group that we ran across on the way. There were some pretty dangerous dropoffs on the hike. Interestingly, many families were out there with very young kids. Dude, they live on the edge in the Alps. Also interesting to note that there are a lot of places to pee in the Alps.

Some Pics:

View from the parking lot                                                    ME - Off the Back!

Yeti searches for his cousins

Hiking is fun!

 

Working up an appetite

Stream frequented by locally renowned pig of the Alps

I missed Shangri La, but there was beer...

For ME, after roughly 45 minutes, the thrill of hiking morphs into the chore of walking. So JJ and ME turned tail and hauled it. Apparently there was an incredible mountain stream RIGHT around the corner from where we turned! Dang! We missed it. Consolation prize? See below. Let's call it a draw.

 Local Beer? Galibier, of Course

 The rest of the crew got back a little later, prompting a dangerous lack of drink synchronization (drinksync). This can sometimes result in unintentionally rushed imbibery, which in turns leads to fires, apparently.

 Hey, where's the fire?

After Little Miss Sunshining the Yeti, we hightailed it back to Briancon, where the Ullrichs awaited. I will now fast forward to dinner.

THE FOOT OF THE GARGOYLE

Lest you be put off by the name, let ME assure you that this restaurant was quite good. Slow service, in the most French sense. But the food and atmosphere was good. Meat was grilled on the fireplace, which happened to be right next to our table. How cool is that? Well, not cool at all in the literal sense. Actually, it got pretty freakin' hot. Well at that end of the table. With our German back in the peloton, the night got interesting. Fresh off conquering Italy, our fearless Hun was in full celebration mode.

"Wine for my men and beer for my horses!!"

The combination of the German's healthy intake rate and the glacially-slow service created genuine entertainment. As we pondered our menus (which included google-assisted translation), the German declared his order.

"I will have......THE PIG OF THE ALPS!!!" (I didn't enter enough !! to really capture the moment..)

After repeating POTA for the thirdteenth time, we made it into a sweet drinking game, and soon we were all as schnockered as Kaiser von Ullrichstein. I think the food ended up being pretty good, when it finally arrived. The end of the night was hazy. If you were there, you know what I mean. There was a lot of damage done to the ozone, and I think limoncello was involved...




UP NEXT - - VIVE Le FRANCE!! AMERICANS AT LeTOUR!!!

Post #5 Lautaret for Breakfast Fondue for Dinner

Our first morning in Briancon! The fellas embarked on the first Briancon fun ride. Today: the Lautaret from Briancon. After breakfast, we were #oktogo. We rolled out, as giddy as Jodie Foster at a Gay Pride Parade. Headed out with ME first wheel and IMMEDIATELY took a wrong turn. Count on my excellent directional leadership!

Then, POW. Ticket blows a front tire. This guy was about ready to join these fellas:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZAAKPJEq1Ew

Seriously, If it weren't for bad luck he'd have no luck at all. But remember, the Ticket is Bigger than his [bike] problems. As Toni would say, it coulda been worse. We were right across the street from a French version of Dick's (Le Coq's, or somesuch). And Todd was able to procure another tube. Once his hands stopped shaking, he changed the tyre (Euro Spelling!) and off we went. Note that Yetis are directionally superior in the Alps. So you pretty much can follow their directions. 

Once we got on D1091, there was no getting lost. The climb up the Lautaret was deceiving but a straight shot. Pretty low grades (3%-5%) for about 15 miles. Here are some pictures. For some reason I have no pictures of the Yeti on this climb. Perhaps he blends into the mountain backdrop. This would explain his elusive nature.

Cha-Ching! Money Shot!

Climbing his Col du Problems

German, wearing italian kit, 
capturing French Alps

Near the top, all but Doc and ME bailed back to Briancon. Ullrich had decided to take his bride to a castle in Italy, and BigProblems and the Yeti were ready for some respite. So they all missed this:

Doktor at the top.

The ride down was sweet. Straight shot, little need to tap the brakes. Yeti has some good video. Apologies for the length of this link.

https://fbcdn-video-a-a.akamaihd.net/hvideo-ak-xft1/v/t42.1790-2/11691694_10207027505231142_1995254360_n.mp4?efg=eyJybHIiOjEwMDYsInJsYSI6NTEyfQ%3D%3D&rl=1006&vabr=559&oh=bc0331e5f0aef42b2430f0eee16c5599&oe=55C27801&__gda__=1438807889_282312f0db0d0e72ba129ec6690f2cd3

Let's Eat Already!

Dinnertime!

Ullrichs decided they were still up for an Italian castle adventure. The rest of us were D-U-N with driving, and passed on the trek back over the Hill into Italia. We were now Ullrich-less. With no occupying German forces, we felt free to wander over to the Old Town for some drinks and dinner. Our initial goal was to dine at the Foot of the Gargoyle, a well-reviewed establishment focusing on local fare.The food of the Montagnard!

Montagnard, ( French: “Mountain Man” ). The French Mountain Man eats some good stuff. Meat, Potatoes, Bread, Cheese. No focus on snails/duck/coneys in the Alps. NO! (french for no). Of particular focus is Fondue. Before this trip, I thought fondue was a practical joke. A way to eat but never get full. Not anymore! In our search for repast, we were summarily rebuffed at the Foot of the Gargoyle. They were full, and they apparently don't turn the tables more than once per evening. We wandered around until we found another proper native joint, tucked away on a side street. Le Bistrot de la Paix. Next time you are wandering the streets of Briancon, shake your wand on over to this place. It proved to be a winning gamble, as the whole experience was phenomenal. Four folks ordered Fondue, I dined on Pork Tenderloin (little did I know it was 'the pig of the alps'). JJ had a salad that Elaine Benes would have fought over, and the Doktor ordered something good that came with serving of frites that fed the entire table. Climbers need calories, and both hills and Kcals were available at every turn! Once again, the wine was inexpensive and spectacular. Côtes du Rhône is the bomb diggety, as Robert Parker would say. If he were in his late 40's and knew very little about wine. The evening was indeed magical. Check out our famous server, working a summer internship between semesters at Hogwarts...

You're a Wizard Harry!!

Women of the world, fear this man!

mcYeti and Wife

Walking Trees in Old Town!

Some would say it was "The Best Night Ever!" Not gonna opine on rankings, but it was pretty dang good. Everyone was chilled, filled and smiling. After an obligatory desert, we listed back home for the evening. Whiskey was poured, wine as well. The vacation was hitting its stride!

Word is that the German and Ling Ling also had a spectacular, if unairconditioned, evening at the castle. As this blog is a first-person kinda creation, perhaps the German will post his own hijinx here on their Italian sidetrip.

NEXT UP - - 
THE HILLS ARE ALIVE WITH THE SOUND OF THE PIG OF THE ALPS!