Michele has always been this way. The day before I look at the forecasts and I’m sure it will pour with rain tomorrow, he answers me with a riposte: Perfect! It will be even more epic! Smile and laugh: Certainly … and in my head I’m already enjoying the warmth of the blankets until late morning. Most of the weekend has past, in the evening we drink some more Braulio, hot, with bare feet in front of the fireplace.
Outside the Bormio Alpine Hostel, which has hosted us the temperature reads 5 °.
It is expected to rain during the night and snow is expected, and he … cannot wait.
After an abundant breakfast, out in the rain, I just think how much bresaola and scimudin I have to bring, he comes forward in exclamation: Pumped ?! The sun is coming out.
I’m convinced that I’ve ridden enough this weekend and that today I’ll just forego any unpleasantries so we divide, I head for supplies and he rides in the direction of Passo dello Stelvio.
After shopping in the mall I pick up the van and drive out, who knows where I’ll meet him. I arrive at the New Baths, shortly after the Bagni Vecchi, then past some hairpins, through the two galleries, and here he is, alone and soaked.
In addition to us there is no one else, wind gusts fling him side by side, and as I approach him through the window I know what he will say to me: What the fuck!
In fact, the scenery is crazy, black asphalt wet in contrast to yellowed fields, the dark rock blurring the white of the first snow and then just in the middle of this serpent, Michele and his SB/03.
I envied him. Even more so when we reached the summit, with a bit of snow on the stem and a smile on his face that is difficult to describe.