A long introspective regenerating trip

The incredible pass at Col du Lautaret, facing the untouched almost unreachable Mejie glacier, a flat with a very VIP position in front of the riding world, run straight ahead to the glacier!, 4° at 2,00 pm over there (this is paradise!), trails on the moon 3200 mts. high and down straight to 1600 mts, hands out of service, cows! cows! cows!… and sheeps!… and their shepherd dogs, Marco, Davide, Daniele, Magna,The Dark Demon, The Fritto, Tatino (aka Codino), tons of spritz aperitif, the Campari is always missing, bottles of wine opened with the claws (don’t wonder how!), the exquisite raclette at 3000°, Le Cafe’ Brasilien and its Lynch protagonists and broken hearts, the Secret and pinball with a table tennis ball…

guess the ball size after the match!, forks chopped afer the first run… fuck!, it’s cold, very cold up there, it’s foggy, we’re floating into nothing on the chairlift,  then suddenly a suffocating sun, rain mill runs here and there shattering on earth like hell, who knows how the Venosc trail is?, The reality Secret Story every morning for breakfast with cherry jam and Nutella, sweating backs, sunbursted skin, give us an Americain…

and we get Negroni, Le Diable trail, La Petite Aiguille et Thallia, The World Cup (aka Pied Moutet), the candy peanuts… over, the crepes chocolate / coconut, so many dogs of any race!, Le Genepy as digestive, pigs-sized prairie dogs everywhere, The Take Away, its beeps squeezing… and sometimes not, and the best XXL cheeseburger on earth, the beige Alsatian and Jackie, lords of Les 2 Alpes.


Good bye 2 Alpes, fuck Sauze and 25 Euros for 2 dishes of porridge and sausage, and the trails made for experts only, the bruschette @ Sugo’s, fawns in the wood and wild strawberries, saved from the whity heads invasion at The Paddy Mc Ginty’s Irish Pub, sheltered in a huge Nachos dish, while outside at midnight the world disappears.


And so, Montgenevre!, its inifinite green meadows, looong trails with structures everywhere, aaaahhh! a sigh of relief, but don’t go drinking @ Refuge!, with its waitresses nice as a punch in the face.

And then Bardonecchia, drops of any kind, inner tubes cut after too hard jumps, bees-sized mosquitos, clouds of young skilled xc riders grow up, the bike park and the skinnies, the river and who of us makes the pebbles jump more on the water, the stomach-ache, the releasing pizza at 5,00 pm.


And the melancholy, now, in front a of a pc. We’ll be back there, very very soon. It’s called ” Les 2 Alpes sickness”.