Real Adventure is the unplanned one. And departure is perhaps the most tragic moment of any self-respecting journey. The most intense moment, tighter than a violin string, when you are about to leave and meet? Who knows. You never know, and that’s terrible. The beginning of the journey is almost worse than the end: when the journey ends and we return home tired and sad, we have the (small) consolation of taking with us a nice bag of memories, emotions, and adventures.
But when you leave, there’s nothing. An unprecedented investment without a guarantee or right of return within 30 days, like on Amazon. But maybe it’s also the thrill of uncertainty that drives us bikers to hit the road anyway. And so I set out on my journey, full of fears and apprehensions, expectations and imaginings. But without an itinerary. It’s better that way. Itineraries tie you down, block you, and force you to organize your day, marking it out in hours and kilometers and taking away some of the poetry. I wanted freedom.
I decided to explore northwest Italy, and Piedmont, and then flow into France and go wherever my heart takes me. Or gas, for that matter. However, as always, we also have to deal with the reality of those who do not plan itineraries, and it is for this reason that I immediately took the first step: Colle del Nivolet, Gran Paradiso National Park, closed. You can only get to the top by shuttle. Damn famous and beautiful places and their breathtaking views.
See also: Journeying to Lakshadweep: Where Skies Meet Vast Azure Oceans
Real Adventure is the unplanned one
Well, it’s not bad. I move on and head a bit agitated toward where I could camp for the night. But to get there, the path led me towards Colle Sampeyre. I didn’t know that, and the following hairpins immersed in the fog didn’t bode well. But for once, a miracle happens sensationally: as soon as you reach the top of the hill, the clouds open up and, with them, paradise. I find myself facing the spectacle of steep and sharp mountains that outline the horizon, rising and falling, drawing irregular lines, covered with green meadows, under a sky painted with harmless clouds. I sharpen my vision and find a dirt road that deviates from the asphalt. Who knows where it leads? It was 6 p.m., I still had maybe two hours of daylight, the temptation was great, and in less than a minute I was already gone.
What a journey! Simply gorgeous. A dirt road of about 6 km that runs along the mountain and leads to Colle della Bicocca offers breathtaking views without putting you in danger, with the sun starting to go down and playing with shadows. If traveling without an itinerary means going to such places, then I’m selling the navigator. I was alone, and all the emotions I felt reflected very strongly in me, making me appreciate everything around me. I was where I needed to be. But not quite; in fact, I knew an even more special place awaited me. I found this place a year ago, on one of those September evenings when, not knowing what to do, I began to observe the mountains via satellite and came across a rather unique formation.
I promised myself that I would go there alone and sleep there. And between talk and action… there were only 3 km. I get back on the motorcycle, and after a few minutes, I arrive at the destination. I park the motorbike under a tree and set off on foot (yes, on foot, the 300 m that are inaccessible by motorbike) to the rock. And here it is.. Everything was perfect. A proper end to a day of travel, as it should be. Once my tent was set up, I ate something and slept all alone at over 1800m above sea level under the stars.
