Oltrepò Express

We cross the a second bridge, over the river Po, and we realise there is no need to rush into the hills – the real beauty lies in the hidden gems among the beech trees and rice fields: the understated elegance of something that doesn’t seek to impress, but is only noticed by those with a keen eye. Just like the Castello di San Gaudenzio, my hometown’s patron saint, which started as a fortress, but now welcomes guests and celebrates beauty. Talking cycling is a given within these walls, especially over food, since the chef and maître are gravel enthusiasts too. We get a bit too comfortable, and before we know it, we’re already an hour behind schedule.

We blast out of Voghera onto the Greenway, an old railway line turned cycle path. Every time I ride on one of these, I think how amazing it would be if they all were converted like this. It’s so beautiful that we decide to take it easy. Then, out of nowhere, we hit Rivanazzano Terme. Turns out their oil exploration paid off – but not in the way they expected. Instead of oil, they found mineral-rich water and a rare example of community spirit saw a group of 132 residents joining forces to harness this resource, creating the only spa resort in Europe with two types of thermal water: salsobromoiodic and sulphurous, from depths of over 300 metres and 12 metres respectively. Some swear that dipping their feet here after an epic Saturday ride gave them the legs of Pogačar. Perhaps an exaggeration, but the scent of sulphur and the peacefulness of the park work wonders, sparking the imagination and soothing the soul.

We get back on route and begin our gentle ascent through the rolling hills. The bike path is technically shared with traffic, but in reality, we encounter no cars – just horse riders and small stalls selling grapes and almonds. The Greenway from Salice Terme onwards is a spectacle: we follow Val Staffora on the left bank of the river, with dense forests rising up in the background and crisp, fresh air filling our lungs. The 3% incline suddenly feels much steeper, and I’m definitely not bonking – until I get a puncture, that is. I curse. We were supposed to be at the restaurant two hours ago. Luckily, Caccino had the foresight to bring more spare tubes than a team car. We benefit from a green bike station’s pump and are soon back in the saddle, our hands covered in bike grease, a typical feature of the roaming cyclist. A few minutes later, the type of grease is replaced by the far more noble kind found on Varzi salami.

Time stands still in this medieval village, but the salami production is still going strong. Under the arcades, each house has its own wine cellar and salami storage, showcasing a tradition that’s been passed down through generations. With top-notch ingredients and the perfect climate, the salami here is something special. Ditch the energy bars and try a slice, paired with a glass of bubbly Bonarda. One gives you energy; the other inspires you to tackle the next challenge – like the first real climb of the tour that will bring us up to 750 metres.

The scenery changes as we ride into a stunning oak forest that delivers massive porcini mushrooms at this time of the year. There’s a sense of calm and slow rhythms here, the kind we tend to forget in the city. Then, around the bend, we arrive at the Molato dam: the bikes slow down in respect for the imposing structure. We’re crossing into new territory, literally – from Pavia to Piacenza, from Lombardy to Emilia-Romagna. It’s like the route is playing a game of regional chess. Some say the wine tastes different once you pass the sign, and who are we not to try for ourselves?

It’s late afternoon, and we have about 10 kilometres to go, mostly downhill. The light is at its best, and the sun seems to be putting on a show, casting stunning colours across the hills – a sight that never gets old. I have a feeling it’s going to be a great evening as soon as we arrive at the agriturismo and, just before checking in, we’re offered a wine tasting. A quick in and out from the shower, and I’m out of the door, eager to explore the area and meet the locals.

Over the years, I’ve learned that when I see the sign ‘Borghi più belli d’Italia’, meaning most beautiful villages of Italy, it’s worth taking a moment to appreciate the charm. We highly recommend spending an evening in Golferenzo: its historic centre feels like a luxury hotel scattered across the village – it’s like being in Provence or somewhere equally charming. The rough stone buildings seem to bear the marks of the hands that have worked the land for years. We can breathe in the good taste in the air, as well as the scent of wood smoke that smells like incense. Or maybe it’s just the barbecue at Corte del Lupo, perched at the top of the village, where you can savour dishes that nourish the soul. The Pisarei e Faśö – tiny gnocchi made from flour and breadcrumbs, topped with a rich sauce of beans, tomatoes, lard, and pork rind – a must-try. Just be warned: take these ingredients with a pinch of salt because every grandmother will tell you her recipe is the authentic one. A good bottle of Buttafuoco wine is just what we need to wash it all down and ensure a solid night’s sleep.

The second day dawns with a sun that feels like it’s risen for the first time, radiating an unforgettable light. We gently caress the hills – or ‘runch’ as the locals call them – still feeling a bit sleepy. The surroundings of Santa Maria della Versa are the perfect setting for our grand finale. We’re riding on the roads that inspired and gave birth to Gianni Brera, who aptly described this land as ‘the province in the shape of a bunch of grapes’, not just because it looks like a triangle. We’ve arrived in the vineyard zone, where vines blanket the hillsides, and those who tend to them need strong legs and tenacity – qualities that, with all due respect, cyclists also require. When I pedal through wine country, I love to notice how the temperature changes depending on the terrain’s exposure, imagining how it will affect the aromas in the glass.

Much of the harvest, in mid-September, is already in the cellar. If you’re passing through during that time, take a deep breath and sniff carefully – the fermenting must is incredibly fragrant. It’s so enticing that soon after, we find ourselves craving something good to eat. If energy bars were unnecessary yesterday, today it’s the water bottle that’s become superfluous. Have I mentioned that this area is the third-largest producer of Pinot Noir in the world? The first is Burgundy, and the second is Champagne, just to put things into perspective. We stop at the Giorgi winery, before the climb to Canneto Pavese; even the Garmin is telling us we are on the right track. Here, we taste expert interpretations of Classese – what they call the local sparkling wine – a perfect match for the occasion. It’s a name that sticks in your memory, much like Franciacorta, Alta Langa, and Champagne itself.

Don’t worry about your heart rate soaring: a couple of short climbs and the wine will be metabolised, leaving only a pleasant memory. Traffic is only a problem in the valley below; up here, it feels like a cycling paradise. “Not many cyclists around here, eh?” we joke to each other. A few more winding bends, and the reason becomes clear. The view of the Alpine Arc, dominated by the majestic Monte Rosa, is simply breath taking – a perfect shot. It’s like the frame that makes the picture perfect.

We absolutely love Oltrepò Pavese. Some snobs from Milan might call it ‘Tuscany on a budget’, but the English, according to the Guardian, discovered it before we did. Before leaving, it’s worth lingering for a moment, almost melancholically, to enjoy one last coffee in Fortunago, another one of Italy’s most beautiful villages. Then, it’s a swift descent into the plain, back to Pavia, tired but happy, and perhaps a bit wiser. Definitely not skinnier, we have certainty that Oltrepò is more than just a place – it’s a state of mind, a philosophy of slow living. Maybe that’s because the Internet signal isn’t strong enough to attract unnecessary influencers and mass tourism. In the end, that’s why we love it so much. It’s a genuine environment, with people who still live close to the land and know how to enjoy life. It goes without saying, it’s clear they’ve figured out how to live well. And yes, you can even do a bit of cycling.