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GeoGravel Tuscany 2024 - Pomarance, a declaration of love
June mornings at seventeen degrees Celsius, wind on the hills, clouds like foam on the blue sky and nights that fill the silence with millions of stars. The second edition of GeoGravel Tuscany is a poem that we wrote through effort, yet we looked in the mirror and found ourselves in love without a precise reason.
Words by Miriam | Photography by Miriam | Styling by Beatrice
5 June 2024
Here is our umpteenth trip to Pomarance, amidst carbo-loads of white pasta, gin and tonics, openings with swimming pools and villas for sale and no way to buy them.
Thursday – meetings, boxes and back to headquarters.
If there is one thing that Pomarance has taught us over the centuries, it is that the anticipation of pleasure is pleasure in itself. The roads running among the hills seem to go on forever, as if someone had added an extra bit of tarmac every year, just to say that one must sweat until the end to get good things. As soon as we leave the tollbooth – the four of us in Patrizia’s MiTo – we are catapulted back into the cosmic nothingness of the Tuscan countryside.
No more internet connection, blank minds, the sky is white, almost feelingless, and the hills have the lush green palette of the month of June, amidst the woods and olive trees. The Ganesh appears on the horizon like Ulysses’ safe harbour, and waiting for us is a crowd of locals playing cards, their glasses with local white wine prominently displayed. It’s time for a dip and then for a briefing on the thousand things to do. Meanwhile, Alessandro arrives: he looks as if he has just driven three hundred kilometres to get here as quickly as possible.
Pom, we’re back.
In the frenzy of opening the boxes, we discover that the new Pomarancio is opening tonight – an event we have been waiting for months. So, we decide to stop by to get a Bitter, being totally amazed by the building – part of the old Bicocchi palace – a real jewel in the centre of the village. Elia and Lorenza have put a lot of effort into restoring this place to its former glory: the ceilings, the dining room with its stone walls, the terraces. When you look at the windows, you can imagine that centuries have passed here, looking at the hills just as we are now, as the lives of country gentlemen we cannot even imagine today passed by, accustomed as we are to running around holding our mobile phones in our hands, trying to keep up with the times and with society.
Outside, the streets are filled with candles and we all feel the fascination of a time when the night was divided between the sacred and the profane.
Friday - Ice cream and thresholds crossed.
Patrizia and I go to the San Carlo farm to do some morning errands, where we meet little Toto – a mixed-breed dog rescued from the streets of Sicily – whom we pet as he trots in the wind. Meanwhile, we discover that our Tuscan dream headquarters is for sale, but for a sum beyond human possibility and, frankly, we don’t not even have time for a scratch card. We’ll think about impossible dreams later. In the meantime, Vale is waiting for us at the Velo Etruria headquarters to prepare a billion bags for the participants. We spent most of the rest of the day in this way, before leaving the shelter to get an ice-cream and meet Fabio in the square, who coordinates the logistics of the stands. We stay in the registration area until the sun goes down and the temperature drops to minus ten, as is traditional. In the end, as in cycling, it’s all about getting over the hump: if you can get through the 8pm to 10pm window, you’re safe.
Otherwise, you collapse into bed, knowing exactly what to expect the next day.
Or maybe not.
Saturday - Wildflowers, DJ sets and life stuff.
The incredible thing about this place is the wild atmosphere that surrounds it. As soon as you leave the familiar streets, you find yourself in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by June flowers growing in the fields and along the sides of the Strade Grige. Here and there, as you drive along, you can see power stations belching clouds of smoke: the energy of Tuscany, from underground, the furious heat that hides beneath the tranquillity of these paths. Are we not like this? We wait quietly, but within us a storm takes place.
The carbo-load of pasta in bianco at noon does not avert my blatant misfortune in the afternoon, but things get better in the evening, when Bea makes her triumphant entrance, Saturnino begins to play and we forget everything. Today too, for better or worse, we have done what was in our power to do. The clock always strikes an insane hour when we close our eyes the night before the big day.
Domenica - Il tempo sulle colline
With me halfway through the service, Patrizia and Vale have to take the dirt roads – Vale’s first time, baptism of fire. I experience the thrill of staying in the Piazzone to wait for the finishers. Slow life is fashionable in Pomarance, time dilates, so does space. Every single moment is precious to feel the here and now, which we can never grasp. Waiting.
When we are all back under the marquee for the pasta party, it starts to rain, once again Tuscany’s greeting to the nomads who are still far away. Cycling has taught us that leaving is one of the hardest things of all, especially when a place has become part of you.
If you are also unable to withstand the enchantment of Pomarance, we have organised a cycling experience with Paolo Bettini between the Etruscan Coast and the hot springs for next September.
Will you come and cycle with us?
