Ka tsela e itseng ka mokhoa o tsitsitseng filiming e fosahetseng

When leaving Finale Ligure, the sun was shining. Although everything was still quite wet, including my shoes, the promise of sustainable improvement in the weather was unmistakable. I estimated at least nine daily stages until La Spezia, plus rest days and the occasional day on the trail. It was also necessary to switch from the all-inclusive and easily accessible mode to the more abstinent bikepacking mode. After happily pedaling the first 600 meters of altitude gain on forest roads, I saw the familiar AV signs on a red-white background. I was back on track. And soon the path became rougher. The remnants of the storm were scattered on the trails in the form of torn branches and twigs, and puddles and mud pits acted as enthusiastic fun spoilers. Progress was relatively difficult and muddy, but I was largely spared from insurmountable obstacles like fallen trees. Clearings on the wooded mountain ridges offered beautiful views of the coastal resorts, so this stage offered the expected enjoyment, and I arrived fairly relaxed at my accommodation in the tiny mountain village of Santa Giustina in the late afternoon.

A major disadvantage of the Alta Via dei Monti Liguri compared to the Alps is that there are hardly any campsites here. And wild camping required complicated water management, as I no longer trusted any of the water sources marked on the AVML map due to my experiences before Ventimiglia. Accordingly, I planned to rely more on the scarce B&Bs along the route for accommodation. So today, the hostess gave me the keys and handed over an almost complete apartment, unfortunately without a kitchen. But that shouldn't be a problem, after all, there was a bar, a grocery store, and a restaurant in the village. However, as the evening progressed, I realized that all of these supply points remained closed. And on a Monday. At 6:30 p.m., I started to get increasingly nervous with a growling stomach. My landlady was no longer reachable either. I felt like the only survivor in the village, and now I was just waiting for the first zombies to arrive. But barricading myself would only lead to starvation, so I persuaded myself to ride to the nearest restaurant marked on Google Maps, hoping that at least this one had been spared from the apocalypse. The catch was the 5 kilometers of distance and, above all, the 185 meters of altitude gain. A nice bonus after an already exhausting day in the saddle. But there was no choice. So off I went, and just before darkness fell, I spotted the dimly lit building between the dark forests at the edge of the road. Unlike me, the zombies seemed to have missed it, so I could enjoy a delicious pizza among the other survivors. After that, I raced back to Santa Giustina in the darkness, fortunately downhill.

After this night of the living dead, life returned in the morning. Miraculously, the bar and grocery store had reopened, so I was able to stock up on supplies after a hearty breakfast to tackle Monte Beigua. The highest mountain in the eponymous nature park behind Savona promised some exciting trails, and I wanted to add a few more day trips in the area after crossing it. But the weather did not cooperate. Instead of the expected bright sunshine to dry the paths, murky and cold clouds tangled in the mountains. The higher I climbed, the more uncomfortable and autumnal it became. In thick fog, I headed for a rifugio just below the mountain peak. Here, I wanted to wait out the bad weather and find a cozy place to sleep. But contrary to all expectations, it was closed.

I had no choice but to continue following the AVML along the entire mountain ridge. Meanwhile, a light drizzle had started, and the dull coldness was creeping deeper into my limbs. I had more clothes on than on the windiest Alpine passes, and yet I was only a few kilometers as the crow flies from the late summer Mediterranean. The further course of the trail now added to this cacophony of evils. It became increasingly rocky, and on the slippery wet rocks, progress would have been a slippery ordeal even without a bike. It was clear that the trail days here were a no-go. I was already relieved if I could reach the next stage destination of Masone today without any incidents.

Under good conditions, the crossing would probably have been a pure pleasure with a magnificent view, but now I was just glad when I could finally leave this foggy something behind in the afternoon and reach a paved road again. I continued quickly on this road below the cloudy sky, crossing an impressive mountain pass. Not only the climate, but also the landscape had an alpine and rugged character. I simply couldn't believe that the city deep below me was Genoa and not Chamonix.

When I arrived in Masone, I finally had to pay tribute to the adversities of the day in the form of a constantly running nose. A cold was coming on, and in times of Corona, all alarm bells naturally ring regarding the possible consequences of a societal rejection reaction against me due to these symptoms. And since I didn't want to spend the next two weeks in tent quarantine at Monte Beigua, I quickly ordered a pizza in my accommodation and nestled deep into the warm blankets to initiate a speedy recovery from my cold.