Sanremo Primer: There’s no better way to experience race day in Sanremo than from the Poggio – and riding your bike there before the main event is a must for any true cycling enthusiast. Back in March 2010, I embarked on my own cycling journey along the roads leading to Sanremo. Here’s how to best witness the race…
My grand plan to gain a personal understanding of “The Sanremo” was progressing smoothly. With race day finally here, my local strategy involved an morning ride, followed by another exploration of the Cipressa and Poggio, before driving back up the final climb to catch the actual race.
Nothing like a quick review of la Gazzetta to get caught up on the race ahead.
However, my Friday ride into Sanremo was also met with a traffic jam. While not alarming in scale, it certainly brought cars to a complete standstill on the only road leading back to town, a route I’d need to navigate swiftly after the race.
Thus, my bike once again came to the rescue, serving a dual purpose: it was an excellent way to savor the climb again and then effortlessly transport me through the inevitable post-race traffic on the coastal road.
Missing the famous Fontana at Sanremo would be akin to going to Disneyland and not seeing a certain mouse.
Alessandro and Matt were already at the starting line, and Ale’s frequent texts kept me informed of all the action as the race progressed across the plains. This freed up my morning for a little sightseeing, so I hopped on my bike for a leisurely tour around Sanremo, eager to observe how this renowned town prepared for its most famous day.
Signs of Spring are pretty much everywhere…
While Monaco, just a few kilometers down the coast, is arguably the undisputed champion for ‘where the really big yachts reside,’ Sanremo remains a gorgeous, ancient port town. It boasts its own music festival, a grand casino, and naturally, a collection of yachts adorning its harbor.
The town seemed somewhat oblivious to the ProTour storm set to blow in around 5PM.
By now, you understand my feelings about this weekend – witnessing “La Classissima” (Milan-Sanremo) feels much like being a child on Christmas morning once again. Here’s a sight that would evoke a similar reaction from my wife: the Saturday morning street market. Beneath each tent, vendors offer all sorts of treasures and trinkets, sometimes at bargain prices, sometimes overpriced. It’s truly a spectacle, and my wife would approach the market with the same fervent enthusiasm I reserve for the Poggio, searching for whatever she might find.
No visit to Sanremo is truly complete without spending some time on Via Roma – the famous former finishing street. For many of us, photographs of cycling’s greatest heroes crossing the finish line on the town’s main thoroughfare still evoke the race’s true emotions. However, Via Roma is an old street, designed with a hump in the middle for drainage, but its uneven camber doesn’t make for the safest sprint zone. In recent years, the finish has moved a block south, to a much wider area in front of the train station, offering a smoother surface and significantly better access for the traveling circus.
Here’s something many of us don’t often see: oranges, ripe and ready for picking in March. The entire region is dotted with these orange trees, found in both private yards and as public street decorations.
With my morning photo-hunt concluded, it was time for a quick lunch – the kind that could easily stretch into a few hours…
Then, I changed into my cycling kit, hopped on the bike, and headed out the door for my rendezvous with ‘destiny’ – to witness the race on the legendary Poggio.
By 2 PM, the roads from the Poggio onwards were largely closed, so the ride along the coast was a pleasure, albeit one accompanied by a noticeable surge of adrenaline as I neared the turn off the main road. I met up with my old friend Mino and Marta Gazzola, promptly enlisting Marta as a deputy-photographer for my personal ascent of the climb. That’s a story in itself, but suffice it to say that by the time I clicked my Fondriest’s SRAM Red into the big ring, I was fully immersed in a day destined for my personal history books.
The famous bar atop the Poggio – it’s singular and impossible to miss. No visit here is complete without savoring a beer within its modest confines. Cyclists simply line up their bikes outside and squeeze into the tiny space, all eyes fixated on the single television screen.
A room full of steaming, lycra-clad men packed body to body – it’s what’s on the screen that makes it okay.
However, I sought a different perspective of the race, one that I hadn’t experienced before. Over the years, we’ve joined race fans at various points along this climb – Ed often makes this bar his base on race day, while Alessandro favors the steeper sections just before the summit.
So, I set off down the descent, hoping to stake out my own personal Poggio paradise.
It seems the excitement isn’t exclusive to us humans. I spotted this creature perched perfectly above the racecourse. No sooner had I paused to photograph the rascal than its inner German Shepherd erupted in a flurry of high-pitched yelps, summoning several of its pint-sized companions who joined in a spirited chorus of “this is our spot, and you’re mad if you think you’re watching the race from here.” I wisely moved on to quieter surroundings.
Not far from the furry noisemakers, I found a lovely switchback offering excellent views of the race as it approached and exited the turn, with Sanremo visible in the background. There was another spot just before this that I actually preferred for photos, but this particular turn also had a TV. The deal, as they say, was sealed.
At a race, you encounter two types of people: those you know, and those you don’t. Larry and Heather fall into the first category for me – and they’re likely people you’d also want to know if cycling in Italy, enjoying local cuisine, and staying in authentic, non-touristy places defines your ideal vacation. They are Americans living in Italy. The last time I saw them was in 1994 at the Giro, but our paths converged again on the Poggio. They had just returned from Sardinia and were here to enjoy the race, while I, I’m sure, was pondering the idea of adding this itinerary to my own travel plans.
Then, it’s race time. I huddle around the TV with my new acquaintances, and we watch the attacks unfold on the climb. The riders stay together over the top, and as the helicopter thumps overhead, we know it’s mere seconds away… Everyone turns from the TV, and I dash to my chosen spot opposite the turn’s apex.
Here come the motorcycles!
Nibali leads the way, the group strung out as tightly as 25 riders can be at breakneck speeds. I press the shutter on my Sony, letting the motor drive take over – clickclickclickclickclickclick – I pan with the riders, subconsciously adjusting the zoom.
Nibali sprints out of the corner – desperate to open a gap on the way down.
In seconds, they’re gone. I hope the camera captured some good shots – I won’t know for sure until I can review them on my Mac.
Then, silence. The passing seconds feel like minutes between groups. I admire how many riders chose to complete the full distance, even though abandoning the Poggio would offer a much easier and faster route to the team bus. There are even riders – many without team cars – mixed in with the tifosi who are already making their way down.
With the broom wagon is hot on their heels, the final group heads for home. Only 4km to go.
What’s the purpose of riding the Poggio when the main race has already left them behind…? Then again, after 291 km, what are an additional 7 km to claim you completed it? I imagine that would be a deeply satisfying moment.
And I realized I had learned one more thing about what makes this race truly special.
Ciao from Sanremo and thanks for reading!