Successfully managing scarcity

Heavy rain was forecast for the next day. Thus, on the third day, there was an unintentional enforced pause. I found a nice place to stay for two nights in the small village of Pontebernardo. In the nicely decorated B&B, the bad weather could certainly be weathered. Hardly had I parked the bike in the garage than someone called my name. The accommodation turned out to be shared with acquaintances of an acquaintance, with whom I had previously done a tour. So, good company was ensured.

The day slowly dripped away. It really rained from morning till night. At least I made a brief detour to the alimentari and the local trattoria in the neighboring village of Pietrapozio to indulge more in the culinary delights of Piedmont. You can't go less than four courses there. So, nothing stood in the way of compensating for my building calorie deficit. However, breakfast was a disaster. Here, in typical Italian style, all alarm bells went off in panic mode. Dry pastry with rusks and jam. I would only get an acute sugar shock from that, and as a calorie buffer for a tour, it is utterly useless.

The next day, the sun came out again. Time to explore the trails in the area on a day tour. Just had to solve the breakfast problem. So, I had no choice but to raid the alimentari right after it opened. Then it could start. After two hours uphill, I reached a beautifully located rifugio at the upper end of the valley. Stopping there would have been a good idea, but I failed due to my unpreparedness. I hadn’t thought to get cash when starting in Cuneo. I assumed there would be ATMs in the villages. But that's not the case. The nearest ATM is 30 kilometers away, but in the wrong direction. And the next opportunity will probably only be in Barcelonette in France. I won’t be there for another two weeks. Until then, my last 50 euro note has to suffice. Fortunately, almost everywhere accepts cards, even for small amounts. I hope it stays that way. Unfortunately, at this rifugio, it’s not the case. Only cash. So no stopping.

After the rifugio, I reached an old military road that led to a forepeak at 2750 meters at the Colle di Panieris. It's hard to fathom how many military constructions the Italians plastered to the most impossible spots of rock and made accessible via airy, boldly constructed paths. I imagine some poor soul who once had to endure there in all weather conditions in his lookout just to scare away the French. And back then, there weren’t even mountain bikes to at least add some downhill fun to the commute. These lost places in the desolate high mountains certainly had their own, morbid charm. Fortunately, unlike in the Dolomites, there were probably never any armed conflicts in this area.

After passing the skeletons of barracks and bunkers as well as countless rusty barbed wires, I stood on the ridge at the border to France, specifically the Parc National de Mercantour. A wonderful high alpine lake landscape. Unfortunately, there is an absolute bike ban in this national park with fines up to a hefty €1500. And to access the trail, you had to at least cross through it briefly. So, I had to quickly dash through and retreat back to the Italian side. It's a pity because the trails on the other side looked like they had a lot of flow. I just can't understand why access is denied. The return to Valle Stura was rather bumpy and challenging, yet still a lot of fun.

Once back down, I looked forward to a cozy stop in Pietraporzio. But the trattoria was closed for the day. The alimentari was also shut. No problem, as there was still the pizzeria with a small campsite where I intended to spend the night. Pitching a tent was indeed possible there, but the owner shrugged and said he would close at 6 PM, and the pizza oven would stay off. It became all too clear to me how rudimentary the infrastructure is in this part of Piedmont. Accommodations, food, and generally tourists are a rare commodity. At least the area, with two inhabitants per square kilometer, is one of the most sparsely populated in Europe. Of course, if I had a car like everyone here, I could quickly drive down to Sambuco or further until I found the next open restaurant. But with a bike, that’s somewhat challenging. My last hope was the only hotel in the village. Dinner was only for hotel guests, as I expected. So, I had no choice but to put on the saddest puppy eyes and urgently point out my non-motorized vehicle and my dire situation just before likely starvation. That helped; I was finally granted access to an extremely generous and delicious four-course meal. Mission accomplished, and card payment was accepted too.