25/11/24
The Green Surly had failed to stop creaking all this time, all our efforts to silence it being futile and the cause still eluding us. One thing we were pretty sure of was that the cassette-hub interface was the origin. Therefore removing the cassette was a good place to start. However, we (read: Jonathan) had stupidly overtightened it, to try and limit the creaking.
So, in the morning we tried to loosen it but it was welded on. In the process not only did the cheap chain whip break, the chain coming off the tool, but one of the cassette cog teeth snapped off under the force. This wasn’t good. We gave up and had coffee and pancakes. Then went for a relaxing stroll on the beach.
There was a bike shop not far from the house, so we packed up and headed there. Strangely, when we arrived an older woman was sat quietly in the shop. She surely couldn’t be a mechanic? She pointed across the road to another shop front. A man was sat at a desk in the building. We started to explain the problem and he was keen to help. He didn’t actually have a shimano cassette tool but he did have another chain whip. He seemed confident but quickly found it was anchored on.
He moved to the vice and put the chain whip in the vice so as to apply more force. Still it didn’t budge but his chain whip started to disintegrate too. He only had a spanner so we grabbed our wrench and then using a tube applied even more force. It started to click and finally it was free!
We decided not to replace the cassette but tried two techniques we’d read about online. First, we greased up the spacer that’s needed for a 9 speed cassette on an HG hub. Second, using a chain whip, we tensioned the cassette against the hub splines such that it couldn’t move when force was applied. It’s all we could try and the mechanic was bemused by the whole thing as we couldn’t reproduce the creak!
He was convinced it had to be the bottom bracket and tried to tighten up the dust cap with a tool, to which we politely insisted he didn’t.
Shenanigans over for now, we bid farewell to the mechanic after gladly paying him €30 for his time and help. How, or why, they stay open was beyond us, the whole town being completely shut down.
As soon as we headed back on the route we suddenly came across a channel of water but no bridge. There was however a ferry and the operator noticed us and we quickly boarded. It was less than 2 minutes across the water and we were pleased that it was actually operating all year round.
We were headed south, on a gravel track near a larger road. The Sun was out and it was once again a beautiful blue sky as we turned towards Valli di Comacchio. It’s a complex of fishing basins, much like we’d visited before. Finally, we were about to experience the elusive dream of “cycling on water”. The path went under the busy road in a perfect cycle tunnel, then over a cycle bridge and into the middle of the water on a narrow causeway. It was definitely one of the most spectacular parts of the route so far.
It went on for miles, and we couldn’t help but think we must be going the wrong way or that the route would be broken by a seasonal ferry. We paused for a while to eat an apple and soak in the incredible atmosphere. It was like cycling into the endless abyss, the other end of the path not visible for several kilometres. All good things though.
We turned back inland at one point and the perspective changed. We could easily see the path leading back to land and another couple of people cycling. As we approached the gate at the other end, once again it was Frankie who spotted the beaver. He/she was perched on the rock sunning themselves and we could be much closer this time though eventually they slinked into the water. But then many more revealed themselves! There was a colony just swanning around in front of us. We felt blessed and stuck around to enjoy their company until the mosquitoes drove us away.
Leaving the beavers wasn’t only a problem of reluctance but also logistics. The planned route took us towards, you guessed it, a large road and its bridge. This was still the SS309, that’s runs north to south in these parts. The recommend tourist road for exploring. We were passed by quite a few large HGVs, fortunately they were kinder than the car drivers, or just better drivers. We turned off after a quarter of a mile onto a dead straight minor road, which must have been slightly downhill as we were absolutely flying.
We were still using Bicitalia for our route, and although sometimes a little crazy it was usually spot on. This was one of those crazier times. It first took us down a gravel track, encouragingly signposted as a cycle route. But there was a huge road in the way and the track turned to single footpath. We persevered, as it took us back to a track after passing under the busy road.
We enjoyed several kilometres of this until the signs suggested turning left and our route said straight on. If you’re following a GPS then you follow it, and we carried onto the now grassy farm track. It was even slower going but perfectly passable. It soon reached a road, and this was to be easier here on out, or so we thought.
Over the road it suggested joining the top of the river bank. It had been canalised, but it was the river Lamone. But the bank was rutted and overgrown. That wasn’t happening. A small road headed the same way but then it diverged, but it seemed to be a feasible alternative according to the internet maps. It was very busy with traffic but had several ‘Strada Privita’ signs. We assumed it was a rat run of some kind and proceeded.
As we got a few kilometres down the road, we could see a barrier ahead of us, and across the road. Maybe it’s a cheeky toll road, we thought. But the automatic barrier was unmanned, and we nipped round it, hopeful we could get out at the other end. In one of the fields beside the road were a lot of people with their cars, changing their shoes, as though they had been working. They didn’t seem like typical workers though. The road then became freshly laid tarmac and eventually we saw a village sign. We were free, phew!
Using the minor roads we got to Mezzano where we met the SS16. This was a truly hellish town. The ridiculously busy road went straight through the middle and the residents must have had no respite. We stupidly stood here to arrange a room for the night. Stupid because we couldn’t hear the person on the phone properly. When we headed off again, there was zero pavement. We walked the bikes along the gutter of the road, not daft enough to risk riding.
Fortunately the route along the river bank was accompanied by lovely SP roads, all the way to our proposed stop, the only caveat being it was just after 4pm and we had about 20km to go and 1hr before it got dark. Not an impossible pace but faster than we usually go. We put our heads down to make up some miles, our legs feeling optimistic.
Along the way we travelled through a town where there seemed to have recently been major roadworks, the metal construction blockade recently lifted, the road covered in sand and dust. We didn’t think much of it. Later we reached a road sign that suggested the road was ‘interrupted’, not closed though importantly. We continued and soon reached a similar place as before. It looked like a war zone. Not only was the bank of the river being repaired by dozens of trucks and diggers but the houses next to us were torn apart.
We later read, as you can, (watch on BBC here) that the bank had broken only two months earlier. Causing disaster in the small village. It was really horrific to see it first hand, as though there has been flooding at home on this scale we’d never seen the aftermath ourselves.
We arrived in Granarolo at sundown, after crossing the railway three times in quick succession leading us to puzzle how the track was so bendy! We headed to the shop. We bought all the bread they had left, some olives and of course jam.
The Dulce Cassetta wasn’t far away, but Google suggested it would take 12 minutes to travel a kilometre. We soon found out why. It told us to cycle up a one way street into oncoming traffic on a busy road. Looking at the map, there actually wasn’t another reasonable way around. Our headlights already on and our wits about us we managed to make the turn onto and immediately off the busy road.
At the B&B an old lady who spoke zero English greeted us and showed us where to put our bikes. The whole place was beautifully renovated and we felt fortunate to have such comfort after the long day. There was even a microwave to heat the left over passata we still had. The woman was keen to talk and we tried our best to keep up using the phone to translate. Soon we were alone and after eating a simple meal we went to sleep in the peaceful place.
Surly They Won't Make It 