Spontaneous change of plans

After a day off in Barcelonnette, the plan was to continue to Provence. I had already planned my route for the next few days in detail, and I wanted to reach Nice in less than two weeks. But just before going to bed, I quickly checked the latest news. They were not good at all - France reported increasing Covid numbers, and a new article was published summarizing the increasingly critical situation in Spain and France - with gloomy prospects. I was getting more and more nervous. My route to Provence would take me far inland, and then I wouldn't be able to leave quickly if things got critical. Plus, I had a nice alternative route that would lead through Piedmont to Ventimiglia, including the highlight of the descent over the highly praised Ligurian border ridge. So, at half past ten at night, I spontaneously decided to ride back to Italy the next day. Better safe than sorry...

But before setting off the next morning, I wanted to take the opportunity to visit the only dentist here and have a look at my damaged tooth, which has luckily been quiet so far. Despite explaining my situation, they wouldn't give me a short-term appointment. I could visit a doctor in Gap, the nearest larger city. Well, thank you very much, it's only a three-hour bike ride away.

So, Italy it is. Back over the pass I came from, and on to Vinadio, a really sleepy village. There was a campsite, an old castle, and a trattoria, but there was no functioning WiFi. From here, I wanted to tackle the next major stages that still separated me from the Mediterranean.

First, I had to climb almost 1700 meters in one go, passing St. Anna di Vinadio, a monastery clinging to the slope above the 2000 meter mark. And on to the Col de la Lombarde, a pass that brought me back to where I had actually fled from - France. But only briefly, because above the ski resort of Isola 2000, you approach the Italian Alpi Marittime Natural Park from behind. The French side is something you really want to pass through as quickly as possible - Isola 2000 is truly an abomination of ugliness. With their artificial ski areas, the French actually manage to rival the Austrians in terms of spoiling nature with circular reservoirs, wide downhill slopes and service roads, and multi-story characterless residential silos that scar the landscape. Even Ischgl and the Skiwelt Wilder Kaiser would pale with envy.

The Italian side, on the other hand, was completely different, offering breathtaking and pristine nature. Despite the proximity to the border, the Italians hadn't been able to resist putting up a few abandoned military buildings in the area. As often happens, however, these have their own charm, and the remains of the military roads naturally formed a great downhill trail. In the second former military settlement, I had also found the perfect camping spot. A lake and a stream in close proximity, and flat ground next to the ruins for the tent. If it weren't for that shepherd who was driving his animals up the trail towards me just 50 meters above. These ruins were apparently also used as a sheep pen. What a nuisance. Frustrated, I packed up my things and found another place, on a small balcony overlooking the Valasco Valley. But water and bike had to be laboriously carried up the mountainside again.

The next morning I was completely engulfed in fog. The next bad weather front was approaching, and I hurried to roll down into the valley as quickly as possible. I wanted to go all the way to Borgo San Dalmazzo, the nearest larger town. Because at some point, someone had to take a look at my cracked tooth.