Day Seven (6/13). It just keeps getting better.

This is really the last day of our great adventure, as tomorrow all we do is a short run (30km) to Milan to turn the bikes back in. In our original plans we have budgeted only about 220km today and no real mountains, figuring a) we could not top Stelvio, and b) we would be pretty much tired of it all by now. But are not men? Indeed, so we modified our plans at the last minute to include an additional 80km sing west through the famed Dolomite mountains.

Another great riding adventure begins here

The Dolomites are physically substantially different from the Swiss Alps and to me they recall the tall, steep, flat-topped mesas of the American Southwest, but on mega-steroids. So their passes tend to be an easier but faster climb and generally lay blow the tree line, so they swoop through dense, beautiful woods alongside rushing streams.

The big guys are up ahead

And once again, a subtle change in plans produced dramatic and delightful results. First, we were greeted by some awesome, canyon-like riding immediately upon leaving Bolzano, just about taking our breath away with the sudden, stunning transition. But the knockout punch came just a hour later as we pulled over for a map check in the heart of the Dolomite passes, near one you’ll recognize by name: Passo San Pellegrino.

Didn't see a single bottle of Pellegrino water all week

To our complete amazement, a cavalcade of historic Bugatti sports cars come rushing one-by-one into the intersection, accompanied by a Ferrari cabriolet, a Jaguar XK150, and a Porsche 356S roadster.

A type 37 here, now -unbelievable!

A Ferrari cabrio is outclassed in this company

Now in all my years of auto worship, I’ve seen maybe a half-dozen of the iconic type 35 and 37 Bugatti, perhaps the most successful racecar of all time and then only as static museum displays. So to have 5 or 6 of them roaring by us at arms length was nothing short of unbelievable. We were all gaga and we all shared the same thought; how stupidly lucky we had been at every turn of this trip, but this was the topper! The cars were marked with the event badge, “Bugatti sulle Dolomiti” which I later learned was a tourist rally organized by a Milan outfit named 2fast4you.com.

Josh gets close to a Bug coupe - note the emblem

The rally ran for 4 days and that Sunday they were doing four Dolomite passes (two of which we had bagged as well). In the official program each days activities were presented s if they were an Italian meal; first pass is ‘antipasta’, second is ‘prima patti’, etc.

Jus' cruzin in the Dolomites

Later, we were kind of lollygagging it when one of the supercharged Tipo 37B zoomed by us at full wail, resplendent in its French Blue livery and its cockpit absolutely stuffed full of the driver and his attractive copilot. Never on to miss a dare, I pulled ahead to follow this 85-year old, skinny tired, non-power assisted classic at close range.

Chasing the blue Bug -

an 'action shot' taken in motion

I was laughing in my helmet
at the outrageousness of it all

A Bug in motion

Was I in for a surprise? As we started to climb, I soon found myself well outside my own comfort zone trying t keep up with him. I was howling with delight inside my helmet with his skill and bravado as he double clutched and grabbed the external shifter, just throwing the little car from apex to apex, undoubtedly close to the limits of tires no wider than the ones on my motorcycle (with the fonts displaying an almost comical degree of camber). So here I was with probably 80hp and only 700lbs to deal with, yet he was giving me fits with no more than 130hp to cover his 2 and a half times my weight, not to mention that while I was worried about my 4500euro deposit, this guy was driving a million-dollar investment! And he was pulling away! My only excuse can be that the exhilaration and caster bean oil fumes were making me dizzy. We crested the top, allowing me the continued joy of hearing him heel-and-toe it to blip the throttle al the way the mountain. Talk about your once-in-a-lifetime experience (but then again, do you think they’d let me enter my 280SL next year?)!

A hillside village in south Dolomites

It would be impossible to top that morning, but the afternoon provided its own delights as we hustled down to Riva, a popular resort town at the northern tip of Lago (lake) de Garda.

The green river that leads to Lake di Garde

There we intersected the end of a sailing regatta, which was enjoying a fantastic wind. Hank speculated that the geography of the lake, resembling a long-necked wine bottle, together with the steep canyon-like walls carved by primordial glaciers right at the waters edge insured a strong, sustained wind this time of year. Beyond the marina scores of windsurfers zigged and zagged colorfully at full tilt.

Lakeside in Riva

Later, as we rode the lakeside a bit, we were further entertained my a multitude of para-sailors doing their thing right where the lake necked down, though our view was often obscured by tunnels through which the lakeside drive passed (I should note that we often encountered long tunnels, several longer than 3000km, or about 2miles long!).

Parasailors working it

Whew, now we were truly ready to call it a day, though we had nearly 70km more to go to our overnight in Bergamo. But one final “learning experience” awaited us as we neared the end of the lake, a point at which all the weekend warriors were coming together as they hustled home on Sunday evening. We were 20km from the autostrada and traffic on the to-lane had already come to a near stop! Our nerves, our buts, and our clutches would never make it at this rate! So e soon learned to emulate the Eurobikers who would simply pull out into the oncoming lane, which had only sporadic traffic, and accelerate like hell until head-on traffic force us back into our on lane. That was exciting, but then the real hotshots showed us that we could sty in the wrong lane, even against oncoming traffic by flashing or lights and our saddlebags hugging the cars on either side. All at about 50kph!! Cars in the oncoming lane would pull to the outside margin to allow room to squeeze by and if a bus or truck were encountered we never had a problem with cars in our own lane making a gap for us to duck back into – they’d been watching after us all along! Imagine trying that in the good ole US of A!!

So we eventually made our overnight in Bergamo, a simple B & B in a not very attractive section of this industrial city 30km from Milan. But what it lacked in glamor it made up for in charm, with each room having its own small fridge, stocked with the morning meats, cheese and yogurt and French doors that led to a patio with car table and chairs. In the common area was a token-driven espresso machine, along with fruits and breads. Primo! Our host, who lived off sight, sketched out a restaurant recommendation at a local pasta joint and we enjoyed a fantastic dinner of excellent pasta, free-flowing wine, wonderful desert, and a round of Grappa to toast the perfect end to a perfect adventure.