Back to Europe: The Reverse Migration

I didn't grow up with an excess of much, aside from my mother's constant attention. Being the only child had its pros and cons. While I didn't have to fight with a sibling, I also didn't have a built-in friend around the house. I had to settle with the annoying neighbourhood kids or whoever else had a bike in working order and the guts to ride far and get lost. As a child, getting lost in the metropolitan city of Istanbul was not for the faint of heart. Bustling, chaotic, and filled with crazy drivers and ancient infrastructure, it taught me many lessons in urban survival, like finding the best street meat that won't kill you the next day.

Our financial condition didn't allow for a lot of traveling with my parents. Most summers I lived with my grandparents along the seaside, a simple and safe alternative to letting me loose in the city. Also a heck of a lot cheaper than flying the whole family to somewhere in Europe for a posh vacation. Turkey, with its incredible coastline, satisfied my parent's summer desires so well that seeing random old buildings in Italy or France had little appeal, so I never visited. They went without me instead.

My French knowledge came from cartoons, mostly, like Pepé Le Pew and Asterix. The idea of Italy was mostly that it was like Turkish culture with much better wine. Germany was a kinky, dirty paradise for a teenager. I was told I could go visit all those places when I was older, by myself.

Older I did get, but it wasn't until this past October that I had the opportunity to visit both France and Italy with Karin Grubb and ride bikes around with some good people for three weeks.

A little nervous and excited to start the trip, we prepared our bikes and bodies for continuous abuse in the Alps. The plan was to visit some friends in Provence, then tackle the Stone King Rally's Touring Club Week (SKCW) starting in Alpes-de-Haute-Provence. We would then make our way down the Côte d'Azur and spend a week in Finale Ligure to cap it off. The Dream!

Arriving in Nice in nice weather was a good welcome. The food and charm of the Italian-influenced town, with its multiple Michelin Starred restaurants per street, meant we would be packing on a few pounds before we hit the Alps. After finding some of the most incredible croissants in the world on the streets of Nice, we decided to pedal our DH tire-equipped bikes to Monaco. The 50-kilometre round trip took us the better part of a day. We stopped and took in the coastal scenery countless times. When we arrived in Monaco, we quickly realized there was no bike-friendly infrastructure, so we made our way back to the relaxed side of the invisible border. A local tip from our waiter from the night before made for a quick pit stop at Beaulieu-Sur-Mer for coffee and incredible treats at La Pâtisserie Mesiano.

After filling our bellies and our souls in Nice for a couple of days, we took the easy-to-navigate train line to Marseille and to Laragne. The electric trains can't make some of the grades so some of the lines operate on diesel. The cost is not cheap but the comfort and bike friendliness is top notch. As we arrived in Laragne to meet our friends Solenne and Paul, who built some of the more fun trails on the North Shore during their time here, we were beyond excited to see their home turf; where they grew up and learned mountain biking.

The French countryside is mesmerizing, with beautiful geological formations shooting out of the fertile soil, creating valleys between villages. These natural dividers make for beautiful variations of culture, food and traditions. We enjoyed tasting the very unique and rather controversial Fromage du Banon!

Solenne and her father Yves adopted us for a few days and laid out a pretty convincing argument as to why we should just pack up and move to the French countryside. The old farm building they live in was positioned perfectly at the crosshairs of a few ridges that make for great weather, riding and sightseeing. The famous Terre Noir hills that resemble micro-shale-like dirt were everywhere. The incredible grip and dragon's back riding lay in wait around each corner. Col de Lazer was an incredible experience and a decent 1,000-meter ride through 30kms of unique terrain. Learning about France's recent farming initiative to raise more donkeys made us happy as we got to pet a few along the way.

After a few days soaking in the beauty of the area, it was time to make our way to Arvieux, where the Stone King Touring Club Week was about to commence. Our peace was to be shattered in the best way possible as 25,000 meters of descending was on the menu for the next six days. Suspension settings were readjusted for our new weights after a week of cheese and pastries. Our hearts were full from quality time with friends.

The Stone King Rally is the creation of Ash and Mel who ran the Trans Provence for years. Originally a race for the strong-willed and big-lunged, the "Club Week" version removed the timing and let us sleep in reasonable accommodations rather than on the ground in tents after consecutive super hard days on bikes. We were all on board with this change. Thirty of us would spend 6 days and 7 nights zig-zagging between France and Italy as we made our way from Arvieux to the Italian coast town of Bordighera. The group was a beautiful mix of international characters, each with their own sense of humour and quirks. Karin and I were happy to be one of the two couples who didn't have to share a room with anyone else. I suggest teaming up with your partner for this event if you would like some privacy in the evenings.

October at altitude meant some cooler temperatures with the rain threatening to dampen our mood later in the week. The first couple of days were pleasant, as we rode through Saint Veran - the highest Commune in France and the third highest in Europe. After a couple of mountain passes with the bikes at our sides or on our shoulders, we quickly realized all the training we did leading up to this moment should have been hiking.

As we crossed the border into Italy at an unmarked point somewhere along a sweet downhill, we descended to the town of Pontechienale for the night. There was a distinct change in the way trails rode and felt whenever we would cross between Italy and France. The Italian side is a little more moist and natural and the French side seemed more well-traveled and marked. We loved them both equally and enjoyed a sleepy Italian town in the middle of nowhere.

The Stone King's name comes from a notable mountain in the region: Monviso, Il Re di Pietra (which translates to Stone King). The pyramid-like shape of Monte Viso is said to have inspired the Paramount Logo. It is the highest peak in the Cottian Alps and can be seen from as far as Milan on a clear day. The idea was that we would be seeing Il Re di Pietra on most days, letting it guide us to the coast. The weather would have other plans for us.

As we crossed countless mountain passes, ascended and descended thousands of meters, we experienced the force of nature and man through our bikes, eyes and taste buds. Each stop offered a different menu to sample, appetizing to even the pickiest eater. While finding green things to eat was rather difficult, we had an amazing time experiencing the most incredible risottos and stews in the unlikeliest of places. One of these was the Albergo diffuso Ceaglio in Marmora, Italy; a family-owned establishment specializing in hosting mountain bikers, hikers and skiers. The tiny and ancient stone village was purchased by a family decades ago and they spent many years restoring and upgrading. The buildings of the old village were converted into small, cozy and comfortable rooms. The village also serves as an outdoor museum for all the tools and photographs found in the buildings during that time.

The cobblestone streets and shale roofs led to a tiny square where we stored our bikes in the old stables guarded by sleepy cats. You can grab a delicious family style dinner. Across the square is the old cellar turned into a lounge where we enjoyed drinks by a fire and some records.

As the night wound down, we retreated to our luxurious rooms where our stinky clothes were drying. They don't mind dirty bikers and the trails around the valley are some of the best I have ever ridden. I think I would like to go back for a week to explore just that area in the next couple of years.

As the series of unexpected delicacies continued, we discovered you can find delicious refreshments in the most unlikely places. A rain hold placed us at a small Italian roadside pub that also happened to be a gas station, a restaurant and our accommodation for the night. Our expectations were low but the nice people turned the heat on in the rooms and the sun came out.

At the pub, we consumed some of the most delicious Aperol spritzes while literally hanging out at the gas station. The concept is strange for North Americans. The drinking rules are highly regulated in Canada because people can't handle booze in the same way. Not that I condone drinking and driving, but the Euros have a better relationship with liquor than we do, any day of the week.

Properly boozed up and fed, we retreated to our rooms and performed our nightly drying ritual. The towel warmers and hair dryers did some heavy lifting every night and we were always happy to find them in our rooms. Since laundry was a luxury we were not afforded, the stink of our bags multiplied each day. We were looking forward to a few days of stable accommodation in Finale Ligure to wash up.

The wild weather toyed with emotions and traction as we approached the coast. The Molini region - the portion of the trip we were looking forward to most - was impacted. We encountered the most rain the region had seen in 160 years, making the trails almost unrideable. No amount of MaxxGrip was going to keep you upright on the slimiest rocks I have ever experienced. Do yourself a favour and pick a dry time to visit the area.

Every time we rode through a little town, we would scan for local treats. While it was never really warm enough to crave gelato, the coffee and pastries were a big hit. As per Italian law, coffee served can not cost more than a €1.50 at the bar. If you desire table service, the price is up to the shopkeeper. Armed with this knowledge and an appetite for delicious espresso, we stopped often and had many sips on our rides. It was not too hard to convince our fellow riders.

The Stone King group is pretty dialled. While nightly briefings were unnervingly short and lacking information, we didn't lose anyone in the group and no unnecessary risks were taken. GPS tracks were followed on devices like the Coros Dura , Garmins and phones. The Komoot navigation was understating the elevation gain each day. The optimistic data we would look at would be dwarfed by the amount of climbing and hiking we actually did. Some days almost broke us. 36% grades with bikes on our back for long hours made for some tough moments but we stuck together and paced ourselves, knowing we would eventually enjoy an incredible descent to the valley floor.

As we approached the coast, the ground got drier and the trails got rougher. The grip changed, as did how you had to ride the bike. No longer could you trust the corners as you did on the loamy mountain trails. We were riding on marbles and sand now. It was amazing to experience such change over the course of 6 days.

While I brought enough spares to rebuild our bikes twice, I needed none of it. Chains, spokes, derailleurs, tires, shifters... nothing failed. We rode within limits and avoided any big crashes. Small ones were avoidable, except on day one when I rode through electric cattle fencing at 40km/h and went over my bars while getting electrocuted. Luckily the landing was soft grass and I walked away unharmed. I made a mental note about fencing in cattle country. We must have crossed over, under, and around hundreds of electric fences, often multiple times in a 10-minute period. It gets old quick.

The last couple of traverses and descents were emotional for us, despite the rest days ahead on the beach. The trails and the people were sure to be missed. We had a few more days to spend in Finale Ligure and ride casually but many of our co-participants were going home. We would miss them all.

As we said our goodbyes that night in Bordighera with many drinks and great food, we were already checking our calendars for next October to see if a repeat was in the cards. The trails, the people, the scenery and the food were everything we hoped for. These trips are costly but we quickly decided it was all worth it. Should we look into buying a place in Italy to live and ride out of for part of the year? Maybe not, but the next best thing will be visiting the area as often as we can to explore different aspects each time. Perhaps we could repeat some of our favourites? For now though, we were heading to Finale to see what that was all about.

The Finale portion of our trip was a little different than we expected. The region, incredibly rich in its selection of trails and recreation possibilities, was facing some serious weather during our stay. We had friends explain to us what riding in Finale was like and how the shuttle system worked but nobody had nailed the intensity of the operations. It turns out Finale exists for mountain biking. A Whistler without a chairlift is the appropriate term for the region. It's no surprise an event like the Enduro World Series can operate and also offer tourists the opportunity to ride the vast trail network thanks to an extensive shuttle system.

Buses carrying 18 people take off from a depot every hour throughout the day. You can get yourself a pass to take as many shuttles as you would like or opt for a single lift to reach an altitude of 1,000 metres in 30 minutes. Red, green and blue loops allow you to access different trail combinations. Some road riding is required to get back to the shuttle zone after your descent.

The horrendous rains and unseasonably cold temperatures meant the trails were closing to avoid human extraction and trail damage. We needed to find other things to do in Finale, which meant food.

Ligurian cuisine is rich with options and we had some incredible meals at local spots. But food can only entertain for so long when all you want to do is ride your bike to the beach and suntan with a drink in hand. With those options taken away, we had no choice but to head back to Nice to catch an earlier flight home. An odd October for most of the globe meant that our Stone King Experience was one to remember, but we were left hungry for more.

I wish my parents had made the effort to take me to parts of Europe to show me how beautiful and inspiring it is. I imagine it would have had a great influence on my art and personality as a young adult. Nevertheless, I finally made it there at the ripe age of 40.

Travelling is getting harder each day but I am glad events and races exist to lure people to far flung places.

Take your kids on trips. Show them the world. Sure they can look at it on the internet and imagine what the French countryside looks like, but until you take them there and let them smell the amazing aroma of Roquefort, it will all be just a dream.

Thanks for following along, and Happy New Year!