Italy and Switzerland 2025

Over the past 10 years, cycling has gifted me many memorable rides—some shared with friends, many joyfully solo. I enjoy riding on my own because it gives me the freedom to stop whenever I please, take photographs, soak in the scenery, and listen. Today’s ride around Lake Iseo in northern Italy was one of those special days where everything just came together.

When this ride slotted into our itinerary, I had a feeling it would be a good one. As it turned out, it was even better. Sleepy old fishing villages, quiet lakeside roads shaded by pine trees, their roots dipping into the water, busier tourist hubs and some local industrial heritage . The scent of orange blossom, which has followed us throughout this holiday, lingered on the air again today—it’s something I wish I could bottle and bring home.

The cycling infrastructure here is excellent—plenty of well-marked paths and a real sense of respect from drivers. A pleasure to ride. The big climb took me via numerous switchbacks and a road closed to vehicles after a landslide, but open to bikes, which meant silence. Just birdsong, cowbells, the wind through the trees, and now and then, the chirp of crickets in the long grasses. I’m no birdwatcher, but I caught the blackcap and blackbird in the woods, and saw red kites circling above me. The previous day’s highlight had been a barn swallow chirping away from his perch in the middle of Iseo town.

The views were breathtaking—one of those rides where every hairpin turn reveals another stunning vista. I could’ve stopped every two minutes to take a photo, and often did, though pictures never quite do the scale and atmosphere justice. The climb was around 1900ft in 7At one point I found myself 1,700 feet in 7 or so miles... (motor assist, of course!) above the lake, gazing across a hazy expanse to the far shore and tracing the descent I was about to take as the road coiled back down to lake level.

I followed a stretch of the Strada Verde, a well-known route for mountain cyclists in this region, and was briefly tempted to push further up towards Monte Creò—another 2,000 feet—but decided against it, with a long day still ahead. On the western shore, I passed through a series of tunnels—never my favourite bit, even with lights on. The echoing noise makes traffic feel louder and closer than it is. Still, they were short and manageable.

Later I passed huge granite slabs from the area’s quarrying industry—future kitchen worktops, perhaps—stacked neatly in yards along the road. In Lovere, I stopped for a cheeky macchiato and a doughnut to refuel.

After lunch, the breeze had stiffened and made the ride along the northern edge of the lake a bit more of a push. Monte Isola, the largest lake island in Europe, was a constant companion—visible from every angle, rising out of the water... We'll head there for a hike tomorrow.

The final stretch was tough going into the headwind, but I eventually made it back to our base at Camping Cavallo, north of Iseo town. Tired legs, sun on my face, and a head full of views, scents, and sounds that will stay with me for a long time. A proper ride.Weiterlesen