Leisurely Tasting the Flavors of Italy From a Bike

Italians have been practicing la dolce vita for 2,000 years, and they’ve got it down pat. Mid-morning finds them at a cafe, cappuccino in hand, exchanging news on soccer, politics and weather.

A three-hour lunch break begins with a Cinzano aperitivo and is capped by gelati from an ice cream shop. After work the piazza is the place to gather for an espresso and perhaps just one little fruit torta .

We easily fell into this pattern during a leisurely nine-day cycling trip across northeastern Italy. Crossing Lake Garda by ferry called for a cappuccino break at the shore while we pondered the day’s route to Bardolino and on to Verona.

After conquering a summit in the Euganean Hills we indulged in the best gelati this side of Naples. Rewarding ourselves for the miles already covered and fortifying ourselves for ones ahead, we never lacked excuses to lean our bikes against a coffee bar, pizzeria or gelateria.

With treats like this on a daily basis, it’s no wonder that European cycling tours are an increasingly popular, albeit pricey, travel option. They offer superb accommodations, carefully planned itineraries, gourmet meals and a compatible group of middle-aged travelers, geared for moderate cycling and adventure.

Cost of the Tours

Tour costs vary slightly, depending on the area. The northern Italy trip runs $2,095, excluding air fare. Also not included are lunches, two dinners and cappuccino breaks--$100 or so easily covers these.

For those who hadn’t ridden much since the eighth grade--and that includes me--the nagging doubt is whether 30 miles a day isn’t 25 miles too far. The answer, surprisingly, is “no.” Couples and singles of all shapes, sizes and staminas not only survive but come back for more, giving Butterfield & Robinson of Toronto, the largest European biking tour operator, a 40% return rate.

I chose a tour of the Veneto, a compact area of northeastern Italy that once called Venice its overlord. My 22 fellow cyclists ranged in age from a 40-year-old psychiatrist to a just-retired chief executive of one of Canada’s largest companies.

We met our guides in Milan and went by private bus to Sirmione, at the southern end of Lake Garda. We pedaled east from its placid, sun-dappled shores to the Adriatic’s drowsy lagoons, passing grand villas rimmed with sculpted hedges and watched over by perky spaniels, thick Romanesque churches and lion-colored Scaligeri castles.

We crossed over a drawbridge and under 13th-Century ramparts to reach our first hotel, the sumptuous Villa Cortine in the Roman spa-resort of Sirmione.

Six-Course Dinners

Our alfresco dinner that evening set the precedent for the week: six courses, beginning with mounds of prosciutto over ripe melon, moving on to pasta dumplings and ending with well-aged Parmesan cut from rounds of cheese bigger than a Fiat’s tire.

We reminded ourselves that the only way to stay thin while eating Italian food was to pedal a lot between meals.

Although we took our hotel dinners as a group, individually served continental breakfasts left us free to leave the hotel in pairs or small groups and cycle at our own paces. Some pursued a rigorous itinerary, seeking out the hills, while others took every shortcut in the book.

Even 30 miles of cycling left plenty of time for adventure. We toured a family-run winery that produces 100,000 bottles of bubbling Spumante, ordered spaghetti and mussels at a lakeside trattoria overlooking the haunting ruins of a Roman villa, scaled the marble steps of Verona’s arena and bedded down in a country hotel inside the walled city of Montagnana, a living time capsule.

Before passing under one of Montagnana’s three drawbridge gateways I cycled its perimeter on a country road arched by maples. Sheep grazed in the wide moat, the city’s red-and-black banner flew from the tower, and except for a scattering of TV antennas the year could have been 1387.

Bakery and Deli

Once inside the cobbled city I parked my bicicletta on the square and headed for Zanarotti, a bakery famous for its enormous squares of flat bread filled with green olives and for its fresh grape torte (baked only during harvest).

Next door at the deli I bought balsam vinegar and extra-virgin olive oil at bargain prices, and wished I could carry home one of the locally smoked prosciutto hams as well.

“Our best wines aren’t bottled for sale,” said the president of the Bardolino cycling club. He had popped in on our group as we relaxed in a sunny patio alongside Lake Garda. His advice? “Find the cafe where a lot of old men are gathered and order the house wine there.”

We had a chance to follow his advice just a few miles down the road, in Soave.

There in the shadow of the town’s overpowering castle we washed our four-cheese pasta down with a delicate Soave wine--made by the owner’s grandmother. At $2 for a half-gallon decanter, the price was right, too.

“Let me take you to my favorite osteria ,” said our guide, Lynn, on one of our free nights in Verona. “It’s a small cafe with no menu and homemade wine stored right in the cask.”

The waiter rapidly rattled off the nightly special--thank goodness we waited for a translation before ordering the cavallo ragu . Although Lynn assured us that the horse meat stew was delicious, we happily settled for homemade ravioli and fettuccine instead.

We ventured north into the humpy Euganean Hills, feasting at the summit on an array of picnic delicacies spread out by our guides.

Then we sailed down these ancient volcanic peaks to the flatlands, passing scores of deserted villas, their grounds forlorn with crumbling statuary.

Directions in Italian

I stopped to ask directions from a farmer. “ Si, diretto ,” he agreed, pointing the way. Then he launched into a one-sided conversation that included “Italia,” “Mexico” and “Argentina.”

It must have been about soccer, but I could add nothing but enthusiastic nods. Never was knowledge of Italian necessary during our adventures--even when fighting Verona’s rush-hour traffic--but there’s no doubt it would have enhanced the trip, as everywhere we went the country folk were anxious to be friendly.

Our two enthusiastic guides were well-chosen for this art-rich journey. Lynn, a Canadian architect, raved over the Grand Canal’s palaces and knew Verona’s Palazzo Vecchio inside out, while Michael, an English art historian-cum-cyclist, guided us to Verona’s San Zeno Church with its famous bronze doors.

But their real work was in paving the way for our two-wheeled group, arranging luncheons in the shadow of Soave’s great castle, handling bike repairs and toting our baggage in their van from hotel to hotel, giving us exemplary room-to-room service.

While they worked we made our way through the countryside, gathering a storehouse of memories: farmers laboriously hand-raking hay into small mounds; a housewife hosing out a wine barrel, readying it for a new vintage; priests cycling through the maze of Verona’s downtown, their long robes skirting the brick streets.

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Butterfield & Robinson offers more than 180 departures, April through October, for its tours of Italy, France (the most popular), Britain, West Germany, Austria/Hungary, and Portugal. On the average, tours cost $1,900, not including air fare.

Tours include accommodations in each area’s best hotels and inns, continental breakfasts, all but two dinners, a gourmet picnic and the use of lightweight, 12-speed touring bicycles. (The company maintains a garage in France to service its 500-plus bikes.) Also covered are private wine tastings, city walking tours and museum admissions.

Several North American companies offer adult European cycling tours with departures May through October;information is available from travel agents.

For more tour information, contact Butterfield & Robinson, 70 Bond St., No. 300, Toronto, Ont., Canada M5B 1X3, or call (800) 387-1147.