I remember, in 1992, watching Clas’ Tony Rominger win the Tour of Lombardy, churning a huge gear along a straight, flat road to the finish for kilometre after kilometre; even Duffers was lost for words.
Like that font of cycling wisdom Viktor would say; “Watchin’ paint dry!” It’s different now – the finale is frantic. Ghisallo, Civiglio, Battaglia… there’s no room for error and no time to relax.
It’s 44 kilometres from the bottom of the Ghisallo to the finish, beside the Lake in Como.
We watched it on Italian TV in the café at the top of the climb, after we’d seen the real deal. For that afternoon, the cente of world cycling is the Ghisallo.
Some of the worlds most dedicated fans (outside of Flanders, naturally) are up there. There’s the cyclists’ chapel, the cycling museum, and the views really have to be seen to be believed, and of course, there’s the race.
It’s like Stephen Roche says; “You can’t win the race here, but you can loose it.”
