A cycle through the Piedmont hills

There�s a haze over the Piedmont hills as we begin our cycle from the B&B to Casale Monferrato. As the crow flies, it�s perhaps twelve kilometres. As the cyclist wanders between hilltop towns, it�s thirty kilometres one way. It�s the early morning of May Day, so the roads are quiet. 

Every time I see the church at Camagna, I shake my head in disbelief that a village of less than 600 residents should have such a crowning glory towering above the town. As we cycle through, a bunch of teenagers are playing a curious game in the main square. It reminds me of royal tennis, where a number of players stand each end of a court, sometimes measuring up to eighty metres and hit a hard tennis ball with a racket that looks like a tamborine with a skin stretched tight over the circular frame. When the teenagers hit the ball, it shoots off the racket with a sound akin to a rifle shot. 

There�s a full-size court in Vignale, the neighbouring village. A few years ago here, I watched a tournament game. It was tennis on steroids. Players would smash the ball at their opponents who used the tamborine to return it. I felt like I was at a rifle range! 

Today�s ride includes five hilltop towns, which means nearly every minute of the sixty kilometres will be in furious descent or slow climb. It�s downhill time from Camagna. 

A group of yellow-suited, shielded beekeepers are smoking the hives on the hillside. Next door an rusted yet still regal set of gates stand permanently open, wreathed in creeper. The driveway is overgrown with knee-high grass, the farmhouse abandoned. 

At Frassinello, seven old men sit outside a cafe, their caps at a jaunty angle. Above the town, a family walk home from the cemetery, two children run ahead, racing each other to the shop. Their parents talk in loud voices that echo down the narrow alleyways. We cycle along the ridge to the next town, Olivola, where I vaguely remember a cafe from years ago. Luckily, it�s open on this holiday. 

It�s the perfect cafe with tables inside, outside under the portico and across the alley with a view of the spendid stone church fifty metres down the road. We order two strong macchiato at the ridiculously cheap cost of 2 Euro and contemplate what to have for lunch. Casale Monferrato is a famous rice-growing region, so we decide on risotto, if or when we make it to the regional town.

From Olivola, it�s a brisk downhill to a pristine meadow of yellow wildflowers. For three kilometres, the road is mercifully flat. A peloton of cyclists sweep by. A roadsign warns that the route ahead is barred and the deviation takes us up to the glorious village of Cella Monte, a town of churches and old ladies talking on street corners and in parks. We ask one of them the way to Casale and receive a operatic score of language fuelled by caffeine and music. it�s a beautiful sound, but I have no idea what she�s saying. Luckily, she points us in the right direction. We nod and say �grazie� over and over. she answers with the obligatory, �prego.�

Cello Monte has a twin hilltop town 2 kilometres away, called Rosignano. Pity the only way to get there is a 10% gradient downhill and a corresponding climb back up. It�s like being on a medieval rollercoaster. I tell Cathie that this is the last climb before the rice plain of Casale. I was wrong about the 10%. It�s 12%. But in the hazy distance sits Casale. 

We descend past a small church where a wedding party is arriving. Is there another culture who like to dress up as much as the Italians? Everyone looks beautiful. We slink past in sweaty lycra.

Casale Monferrato is a busy town with a number of 16th Century palazzo and cobblestone alleyways. In the main square, Piazza Mazzini, is an equestrian statue of King Charles Albert of Piedmont. The locals call the square Piazza Cavallo, relegating the King to a secondary role behind his horse.

When we were here three years ago, we ate in a restaurant a few times and on each occasion, they�d offer us a small pizza free of charge. Without a common language, we had no idea why, other than that they were typically friendly and valued our custom. Unfortunately, the ownership appears to have changed, but the food is just as good. I order a risotto with prawns and zucchini flowers and Cathie orders a risotto with lots of cheese. Before the dishes arrive, we�re offered a complimentary bruschetta. Last night at a restaurant in Vignale, we were given free limoncello at the end of our meal. It�s a lovely and surprising tradition in these out of the way places that never fails to amaze me. The risottos are creamy, salty and incredibly delicious. After thirty kilometres, including 470 metres of climbing, we feel we�ve earnt the right to indulge. 

After all, there�s another thirty kilometres and more hill climbing to return to our B&B. It will be very difficult to cycle past the gelato shop around the corner.