The joy of being l’intrepida

Every October, in the village of Anghiari, the vintage bicycle rally L’Intrepida occurs. (I really must insist that you click on this link now to see some of the fantastic images on their home page so that you can get a sense of what I am talking about before proceeding.)

Over 800 people take part, choosing routes of 42, 85, or 120 kilometers (26, 53, or 75 miles). Lest one still thinks that this might not be too difficult, bear in mind that only steel-framed bikes prior to 1987 are allowed, and that riders must be dressed in vintage clothing. Forty percent of the ride is on unpaved roads, and there are loads of hills. Plenty of scenic rest stops (some in front of castles) are provided, well stocked with wine, vin santo, pastries, and pasta. In the seven years since it started it has grown to being second only to the L’Eroica vintage bicycle rally in terms of participants and prestige.

Some friends of mine from California and France came to ride in L’Intrepida two years ago. These friends have always intimidated me with their athleticism, taking on insane challenges like the Death Ride (cycling over 100 miles and five mountain passes in the Sierras.) Within this group, my friend Dee is the lone non-extreme athlete. But recently she realized that the best way to spend more time with her husband was to start cycling. So when this band of cyclists signed up for L’Intrepida, she gamely signed up for the 42 kilometer race while the others opted for the longer routes.

They approached L’Intrepida with focus and caution—practice rides to get used to the rented vintage bikes, checking and rechecking all aspects of the equipment, pouring over maps. As the day approached, I could see Dee getting more and more worried, especially as she’d be doing the route by herself. We planned out what would happen if she had a flat tire or became too tired. She’d call me with her coordinates and I’d pick her up.

(inevitable Vespas)

On the day of the race, John and I cheered them on at the starting line in the main square. It was an amazing scene: hundreds of people in wildly-varied vintage costumes, vintage bikes of every type, and rally support vehicles which included vintage Vespas with sidecars and old Fiat 500s. The starting gun goes off, L’Intrepida started, and slowly the square emptied, our friends tucked into the middle of the pack.

We went back home and waited. By afternoon friends slowly started to arrive back as they finished their routes. I kept checking my phone to see if I’d missed a call from Dee, but there was nothing. The 85-kilometer group arrived back, full of stories. Then the 120-kilometer participants, exhausted, but having had a wonderful time. All agreed it had been their favorite rally ever. Still no Dee, though. We were all starting to get worried.

We decided to go back to the square to scour for signs of our missing friend. And there was Dee, at the center of a circle of a dozen older men, laughing as they toasted her with prosecco. Turns out she’d been adopted by a group of Italian friends who were riding together in the rally. The fact that they spoke no English, and Dee spoke no Italian, turned out to be irrelevant. They communicated partially through songs, like “California Girls,” describing her. One man indicated he was from Milan but preferred the countryside. Unable to express more about why he liked to get out of the city, he sang a line from “The Sound of Silence.”

The group stuck by her for the whole 42 kilometers. During a particularly tough unpaved climb, one man, whom Dee guessed was in his mid-70s, rode beside her and placed his hand on her back, helping to propel her to the top of the hill. By the finish, they still wanted to hang out together at the bar. And Dee realized the joys of being intrepid, and the special type of kindness typical of Italian strangers.

This year’s rally takes place on October 21st.