Euro diary, week 3, 2011                                                                                                The final curtain for Vladimir?                                                                                   Friday afternoon, last, MBW and I decided to ride up to the Rifugio we had visited last Saturday, enjoy dinner by the open fire and spend the night in the dormitory accommodation.  We're thinking of doing the same with a group in August, so we thought a little reccy might be in order.  The weather has turned this week, and it is now cold, with the maximum not getting over 15'.  We have also moved into our new digs, and while all the tradies have done a fine job, the kitchen we ordered has not arrived, so no cooking at home presently.  No gas either, meaning no hot water or heating.                                                                                                                                                                                                     MBW has a health condition at present that means her heartrate can't go over 140bpm, so she set off well before me, for the 1000m ascent.  As I rode along alone, I considered the latest drug scandal, and it's impact on Vladimir Karpets, him being  involved in the Mantova pharmacy investigation (along with many other sports people, not just cyclists).    For years in our house, when getting in a tidying up type of mode, which doesn't happen all that often, we've always said ‘it's time to vacuum the Vladimirs'.  He has become an iconic figure in our lives, made even more so by a bizarre interview ‘our' Annabelle did with the long haired lanky man at last year's Giro.  In English he agreed to be interviewed in Italian, then answered every question in Spanish...this from a Russian.  And a very handsome Russian at that.  Nevertheless, he's been around for a while, and at 32 is in the twilight of his career.  If he gets pinged with a 2 year suspension in this investigation, I fear, it could be curtains for Karpets.   (ba-boom-tish)                                                                                                  It started raining not long into my ride, along with the occasional sprinklings of hail, but I remained content, as I was climbing.  The thought of the open fire in the rifugio kept me warm too, and I was happy as I pedalled.  Very quickly it was under an hour to go, and all uphill, so no need to worry about the cold.  Occasionally my back wheel slipped on the steep grade, but mostly I kept going forward, and upward.  As I reached the rifugio, all was calm and peaceful.  Very peaceful.  Alarmingly peaceful, in fact.  There was no one moving, not even a mouse.  As I approached the closed door, I noticed two words written in chalk ‘Oggi Chiuso' (closed today).                  Now, I know what a tantrum is, so I don't think that would be a fair description of the way I handled the situation.  While I may have stamped a foot, or two, I definitely did not kick any pot plants.  Probably more akin to an internal combustion engine, valve bouncing, or something like that.  IT WAS ONLY 6 DAYS EARLIER THEY HAD TOLD US THEY WERE OPEN EVERY DAY!                                                                                    Anyway, it was very quickly, literally, time to move on.  Close to 7pm, light was fading, it was only 1' above zero, we were wet and cold, and without proper lights for our bikes.  We were also a long way from home, which was without heating, and we needed some fast.  As we had planned to descend the next morning, we didn't have enough clothes for a cold descent.  There was a lone pizzeria halfway down the hill, the only sign of life we'd seen on the ascent, we gritted our teeth on the rough roads, and stopped and asked for a room, teeth chattering, but the answer wasn't pleasing.    Further down, while our hands were seizing up, gripping the levers in the chill wind, we knew there to be an agriturismo, slightly off the track.  We pushed the bell at the locked gate, to mute response.  It was now close to 8pm  and nearly dark.  We opted for riding up the lake to Vello, where we had spotted a B & B sign in a restaurant, days earlier.                                                                                                 Finishing the descent we turned right and covered the distance along the lake pretty smartly, trying to get some heat back into our bones.   Vello was quiet, as it almost always is, but lights were on in the ristorante.  We asked about the B & B and after a quick phone call and a 2 minute walk, we were welcomed into a family home.  A warm family home, with a lovely pink bathroom and a deep pink bath.                     Later in the warmth of the ristorante, as I forked half a grilled prawn, wrapped in pancetta, and dripping with a gorgonzola sauce, into my gob, I exchanged looks with MBW, and began to giggle.                                                                                                                               DO.