2026 Waldy Tour, Day 3: Polka Dot Pumping

“Why do we do this Rich?” Guy puffed, easing parallel and turning to me as we finished the final Climb. (10 of 10 said the Garmin, it lied).

I surveyed the increasingly steep downward grade of the road ahead ... and answered with another question: “for the descents?” Before we upped revs and tucked down for yet another exhilarating rush.

But why you might ask, were the W2s mixing it with the W3s?

Well that takes us back to the night before. When a slightly squiffy Alex or Alison or Liz, who knows - nominated our W2 Group Ride Leader for the next day to be none other than Fabrizio...

To be fair, it seemed a decent choice at the time (11pm-ish), as our Day 2 leader had lost our entire group early on, and then sacked it, or us, and went home with the W1s. No doubt chaffing, if a biscuit can chafe, at his new moniker: ‘soggy’. So we had been Group leader, rudder and weather-less for much of Saturday, while Fabrizio - our local guide -all smiles and indecipherable hand signals - had gleamed in the hot Marche sunlight, and shone – beaconlike -in his white one-piece at the head of our diminished pack. He was the natural choice for day 3.

Day 3 Dawned. Scorchio.

The first error of judgement became apparent at breakfast time. Fabrizio had excelled in honorary Waldyness and, exceeding even previous attire, arrived in a bright pink with purple polkadots, skintight speedsuit. Striding, nay, swaggering into the dining room it was immediately obvious that he had nowhere to stash the mandated first aid kit. Disaster!

Luckily he was packing some rolled up bandages onboard, or something. So we smiled back, affected Italian nonchalance for all matters safety, went with it and set off.

Traffic.

Was the excuse for our first deviation. It took us along the bypass out of town, and was noisy but smooth, single file but flat. A bit dull, and while the kms flew past, it was a relief to escape the urban sprawl and into the countryside. Heading west and north of Gabbice Mare we gained height in the Apennine foothills quickly. Vineyards, cornfields, lines of fruit trees, all in stunning verdant green, rolled away either side of us. One of my strongest impressions of riding in the Marche is the sense of surrounding space. The country roads are on top of the ridges and hills, not buried in the depths of a wooded valley like Surrey lanes. Consequently, here there are sweeping views for most of the time, of soft hills, topped with cypress trees and villas, or small fortified towns in the red and ochre of local brick. I imagine in the summer it would seem a little exposed, baking hot and shadeless, but in early May, with clear blue skies and a warming sun, it was picture postcard riding.

A huge castle loomed to our left, Monte something, we had seen it on both previous days from afar, but still no time to stop and admire; soon we were swung into descents and a valley floor. A turn onto a main road peeled us west and the traffic increased. We were on the tourist trail, approaching San Marino.

Fabrizio informed us proudly that San Marino remains an independent state within the state of Italy, something I think most of us had already clocked, but signs of wilful independence were all around us. The tarmac changed colour (and got better); the chevron signs on the corners stopped being black and white and became yellow and red. The whole place seemed neater, maybe curated for visitors, or just wealthier.

It wasnt long before Climb One – actually the third or fourth, but the first of the two Big Ones. 11km, 550m, average grade 5%. By now the sun was more than warm on our backs, Fabrizio was glistening ...and saying “No” loudly and definitively to the idea of a pre-climb loo stop. So up we went.

It was a steady, if winding and at times steep climb. Like many this tour it came in stages, with steeper pitches interspersed with recovery segments. A short mid-hill downward stretch helped my legs a lot, and gave a bit of time to admire the growing views. The final few switchbacks, reaching the entrance to the city-gates, were a fine regular gradient and silky smooth road. It was a long climb compared to what we are used to, at 45-50 minutes of effort, but it wasnt Rocacorba. It was a “less than half a bag of wine gums” kinda climb. And a cafe stop, coffee and ice cream beckoned.

San Marino was bustling inside the gates, but clippy cloppy disco slippers were not much good for walking through the cobbled pedestrian zone. A fine was threatened for anyone who didn’t dismount, so choose your pain – slip sliding down steep streets or 20 Euros…

The café served very good coffee, even better ice cream. ‘Nuff said.

And so we come to the most interesting part of the ride. The descent from San Marino was smooth and quick, but a bit anodyne, too much traffic, too many well marked (red and yellow chevron’d) corners. The short steep climb afterwards gave spectacular rearward views across to the citadel though.

And soon we were well shot of the crowds, back in the rural landscape and deep into the hills. A brief stop in the shade of a closed petrol station in a hilltop village gave us a chance to regroup, and Fabrizio led off out of town to what would be my fave downhill of the day. It started off as a ridge ride, fast and smooth and with fields rolling away either side of us from the single track road. The 360 panoramic view was amazing, San Marino to the right, a sweep of ever higher hills to our left, but then came the first of several tight bends. Ooops – better look at the road! Narrow and steep, demanding concentration and commitment, watching for any sign of loose surfaces, it was nonetheless easy to get low and carve the bike round. By now I had left Fabrizio and the group behind, it was just me, the empty road and speeeeeeeeeeed! A right hander switchback came next, trees, shade, is that a pot hole … phew no just shadow… so brake early, slow in, then push push push… hard and fast out… whoosh a 200 yard blast up to 55, then hard on the brakes to the next left hander, round I go…. No, phew its not a car…. Go go go. Down again, and another righthander, less than 180 degrees this time, swoop round, and a final falline blast to the flats and eventually a junction. Wow. Whoop! PUFF!!

The others got there eventually, no mishaps, good, but also not quite as big a grin as I was wearing. That was ace!

And so Climb 2… The biggest of the tour this year, a ‘mere’ 745m but over 12 km of stepped pitches. Garmin said most of which were 8 or 9%, the intervening sections at around 3 or 4%. Around half way up we came to San Leo, the village was nothing much more than a junction, but the monastery… well that was something else. Perched high up on a cliff, as inaccessible as a Bond villians lair, although it would have been nice to have had time to try. Instead the relentless ascent continued…punctuated only by passing Waldy 4’s (x2) and 3’s (David T – of course).

Topping out at 981m above sea level, we had earned our next café stop…

Which is to return to why the W2s (us) were mixing it with the 3’s (Guy et al) and to understand the ultimate error in choice of our ride leader. Fabrizio, being local, knew the shortcuts. Those of us relying on Garmin were conservative about deviating from the prescribed track. And so, when our group was split by the second long climb, and Fabrizio did the decent thing and stayed with the slower half, the first three of us ended up waiting at a cafe that Fabrizio and remaining Team W2 never went near.

Time wore on. The W4s left. Old men arrived, poured post lunch Grappa. Our tummy‘s rumbled. Local chess games and poker started. The remaining W3s came and drank cokes ... and were going... And so Liz, Ian and I tagged on to them, descending, and descending, and descending some more with the W3s.

So, yes, do it for the descents... it was a super fast roller coaster of a group ride that never seemed to really stop. Liz didn't dare look up, telling me later she had no idea what we had passed or (not) seen. I didn’t dare look back, only at the road and wheel in front, trusting somehow we would all just stay together. It was a huge blast, and huge thanks owed to Stephen, Clive and Rich B who took turns on the front. They pulled us all at well over 40kmh into a headwind, for the whole 36km from cafe to the vineyard, just in time for a very late lunch…

And that really was the culmination of our grand day out to San Marino.

So…Why do we do it?

Well some would say for the views, and there were plenty, some would say for the social, and there was lots of that. The camaraderie of a shared challenge and big hill jointly beaten? Yes defintely. But for me, it was that narrow, empty, hairpin-tastic descent, the flow, the grins and the rush. We’re never going to get that in Surrey. It needs a bigger hill, and a better road. It needs a Tour.

Rich W