The plan was a lazy weekend in the sunshine in Nice. That was until I spotted on google maps that a little village called Latte in Italy was a very cyclable distance away.
So Saturday was spent preparing for the trip. Carbon road bikes were duly hired, toe clips purchased to add to the bikes, and emergency lightweight jackets and gloves also purchased. This was going to be one hell of an expensive coffee! (At the very last minute I had reluctantly thrown some lycra into my suitcase, as I could see that Stuart had packed his lycra and was looking at me hopefully!)
Dawn on Sunday morning was beautiful, it was going to be a great day for a bike ride
I thought briefly of my friends back home who I knew would be on the VCC Sunday morning club ride. I thought, thank god I'm not there, the weather looks lousy!! (And from the subsequent comments on Facebook they had a very tough ride in 40mph+ winds).
Breakfast was a coffee and croissant on the beach in Nice, then a lovely ride along a cycle path to get out of town. We had been told by the concierge in the hotel, that there are three routes we could take to get to Italy, the coastal path, the picturesque middle route and the Col de "I really don't care what it's called, I'm not doing that".
We chose the coastal path and it really was gorgeous. Cycling along the French Riveria on a balmy Sunday morning was pretty idyllic. I always expect coastal routes to be as flat as beaches, but I'm always wrong! (This ride we clocked up 6,667 ft of climbing in 35 miles!)
At the top of the not insignificant climb to get out of Nice, Stuart stops to set his watch based on on the sundial, which we figured was in all likelihood pretty accurate.
Our journey takes us through Monte Carlo, but instead of being impressed by the wealth and the glamour, we both find it pretty obscene. I had wanted to pop into the casino to see if lycra qualified as "properly attired", but we decided not to waste anymore time in this claustrophobic town and get back to the beautiful coast line.
Eventually, we get to Menton, which is a delightful seaside town, with many many restaurants on the beach, we decide that this will be the lunch stop. We can see the border crossing to Italy just on the edge of town!
Latte is only just across the border, and there are two routes to get there. One loops up into the hills and one goes through three tunnels. Much as I hate hills, I am terrified of cycling through tunnels on a bike (especially as we have no lights). Unfortunately, we accidentally miss the loopy road up into the hills and are suddenly faced with the first tunnel. It's well lit, and there is a very small shoulder to cycle on. I grit my teeth and pedal as fast as I can. We survive, it wasn't too bad. The first tunnel is the longest, at just over 1/2 km. the other two don't seem too bad after that.
Finally, we reach our goal for the day - the little village of Latte! Time for a very bad selfie! We only seem to take bad selfies! I guess we spend too much time on selfie-indulgent cycling, than on selfie practicing! Actually, I don't think you can spend too much time on selfie-indulgent cycling!
Latte is a tiny village, with not much in the way of coffee shops, but we do find a cafe attached to a supermarket. There are several bicycles parked outside, so I am quite hopeful! But what do we find they serve? Cappuccinos! I'm aghast! I think the village is missing out on a great business opportunity here!
We return to Menton for a well-earned lunch, and when we arrive at the restaurant I ask the waiter for beacoup de l'eau. The woman at the table next to us takes pity on us and hands us her bottle of water. It's been a hot ride and I obviously look like I need water, or perhaps it is my wild eyed staring after cycling like a crazy thing back through the three scary tunnels again. The pizza was good though!
We seem to be a little slower on the return ride, (yes, it was a big pizza), and pretty soon the light conditions are getting difficult. We are heading west and the sun is setting, we can hardly see the road up ahead, and this means that behind us, the cars can hardly see us. However, I'm surprised when Stuart suggests hopping on a train back to Nice, I wonder if he has an ulterior motive.
It turns out Stuart did indeed have a hidden agenda for getting back to Nice early. The night before as we were wandering through old town we came upon a marvellous gelato stand. There were some amazing flavours that we had never seen before, but we just had no room for ice-cream. (I'm not sure if the chocolate festival we had visited earlier in the day had had anything to do with this, but every single stall was handing out free samples. What a great chocolate festival!) Anyway, the gelato stall owner had said to Stuart that Sunday was his last day before he closed for the season and that if Stuart came back tomorrow he could help him finish up all the ice-cream. Stuart loves his ice-cream! I think the stall owner probably said that to all his customers on the Saturday, because when we arrived on the Sunday the place was heaving, and huge in roads had been made into the ice cream stocks. Fortunately, our chosen flavours were still available. Stuart had fig and rhubarb, and I had coquelicot (poppy) and chocolate/orange.
What a fabulous day out, Stuart has always wanted to cycle along the French Riveria, I think that going to a village called Latte, is a great excuse for a bike ride, and it all ended with an ice-cream!
