Day 11 - Tuesday 5 July
An early start, being woken from 5 by (in sequence) a rooster, street sweeping trucks (Meaning of Liff word "Vancouver") going round the square, clock chimes and 7 am church bells next door.
I went down for breakfast (coffee, fresh O.J., Croissant & yoghurt. Chef asked if I'd enjoyed last night's dinner (I had).
At this point I rather put my foot in it. My parents are from Sheffield (England's equivalent of Maniago in terms of knife making) and had told me of the superstition that one should never give a knife as a present - there should always be a transaction, even just a penny in return. I asked if it was the same in Maniago, and understood that it was. On checking out, Chef he took a long thin flat package from a pile of similarly gift wrapped items and handed it to me. I got the gist of what he was saying - that it was ok, as I'd been a paying customer, but on unwrapping it at my hotel that evening, it was, of course .... a knife made in Maniago.
Today's ride was to Slovenia (my 3rd new country this trip), on routes from bike magazines. All started well, through towns and then heading on quiet lanes into the hills. I knew I was in Slovenia when the road signs changed colour to yellow and the place names looked distinctly un-Italian.
But there were more subtle changes too. Worse road surfaces. Lots of butterflies. A black squirrel darting across the road. Beehives in clearings in the lovely mixed deciduous woodland (none of your Schwarzwald coniferous monotony here). Honestly, it was like an enchanted forest from a Disney cartoon - Snow White or Bambi. 2 young deer turned to look at me and darted across the road. If a bird had landed on my handlebars and started singing to me, I would not have been surprised. I rode 20 minutes before I saw another vehicle. I really had entered Shangri La (albeit with potholes).
Having briefly joined a more major road along a river, the Navigatrix then told me to turn left up a minor side road. Funny, I thought - doesn't look like the start of one of the country's best bike roads. I know the Peterborough journalistic establishment is in thrall to the 2 wheeled Bavarian Chelsea tractor but still? Climbing through the woods, all of a sudden the tarmac ran out. I may have mentioned I don't like gravel. But what choice did I have? Wuss out and turn round or carry on, in the hope discovering a great ride?
So I carried on along the gravel track, telling myself to relax, and as Dory in Finding Nemo puts it "just keep swimming" (or in my case riding). The gravel section continued for ages (in reality about 2km) and at the end I even had to go round a gravel hairpin. A little skid but I didn't drop the bike
Back on the tarmac, round a couple more normal hairpins (never did I think I'd be relieved to see one) and at the top of the hill, I was rewarded with the first of many stunning epic views of Slovenia. I stopped on the road (not in a gravel parking area - didn't want to push my luck) and took a photo.
As I pulled away the song going through my head was "He who would valiant be". Not sure whether it was attending school in Bedford (John Bunyan's town) which put it in my head, or more likely, John Cleese singing it in one of my all time favourite films, Clockwise (a perfect encapsulation of one of my ideas of hell, being a control freak). But there I was riding up a Slovenian mountain road, singing in my helmet:
"[S]He who would valiant be ’gainst all disaster,
Let him [her] in constancy follow the Master [the Navigatrix].
There’s no discouragement shall make him [her] once relent
His [her] first avowed intent to be a pilgrim [to WDW]".