It's the start of the big cycling gala in March: the start of the Milan-San Remo professional race in front of the medieval Castello Sforzesco - one of the landmarks of Milan's historic centre. Photographers and television crews from all over the world crowd around the professional cyclists, while fans and passers-by watch the action with fascination. The city lies at the feet of "La Primavera".
There's not much sign of a gala at the registration desk for the "Gran Fondo Milano-San Remo" in June. We are in Rozzano on the outskirts of the city, squeezed between a labyrinth of dual carriageways on concrete pillars - urban desolation. This is where the Everyman version of the famous spring classic will start tomorrow. It's an environment that makes you want to put your camera away again - the starting point is not suitable for a family album. Here on the outskirts of the city, the big race is suddenly very small. The starting documents are handed out in an eight square metre concrete cubicle: a jersey in eye-catching pink, the start number, a few advertising brochures and a muesli bar with a small number on it. Participants push their confirmation letters through the iron grille of an open window. Behind them are men from the "Unione Ciclotourismo Sanremo", the organising association. They calmly search for missing start documents, missing transponders and answer questions - if they are asked in Italian. Nobody speaks English or German, the international significance of the professional race is far away.
Günther Kulessa from Oberursel has already got used to the language and organisational problems: "They're nice people, but they don't have much to do with computers and faxes." This is the fourth time Kulessa has volunteered to organise a coach trip from Frankfurt, with between 31 and 70 participants from Germany registering through him every year. His volunteer website provides German-speaking cyclists with the information they are looking for in vain on the official organiser's website.
Start on the outskirts of the city
The Italians affectionately call Milan-San Remo "La Classicissima", the highest of all cycling classics. The professional race in Italy is undoubtedly one of the highlights of the cycling year. Gino Bartali or Fausto Coppi, Eddy Merckx and Erik Zabel adorn the list of winners and have cemented the race's reputation in the cycling world. Live television broadcasts, videos on YouTube and, for example, "real life" DVDs for retracing the route on a roller trainer have also fuelled the myth. A myth that has also attracted amateur cyclists to the original route for forty years.
This was also the case on 7 June last year. Cyclists travelled from all over Europe. However, there are only around 800 participants in total - the boom in many of the everyman classics is not noticeable here. TOUR editors Manuel Jekel and Andreas Kublik will also be at the start. "It's disappointing when you have to start as an amateur rider at Milan-San Remo in such a dreadful corner of Milan," says Kublik, who has covered the professional race several times as a reporter. When the starting gun is finally fired at seven in the morning, one thing is immediately clear: it is called "Gran Fondo" or "Ciclotouristica" in the announcement, but what starts here is a race. Well-trained Italians immediately set a fast pace, with the speedometer showing an average speed of 45 km/h in the first two hours - despite numerous dangerous braking manoeuvres. Obstacles have to be avoided, oncoming traffic suddenly squeezes the field together. Again and again, loud shouts in the field warn of danger. Hectic roundabouts lead to the major arterial roads heading south. Although the roads are not closed, the motorbike marshals in front usually manage to keep the junctions clear. Maximum concentration often helps, but not always. "It rattled terribly often," reports Karin Blümlein from Satteldorf.
While the starting point has nothing to do with the professional race, the number of support vehicles comes closer to a real race: at least two dozen private support cars and motorbikes follow the leading group of amateur riders: out of the city, heading south, on long, wide motorways through the Po Valley. In the professional race, the television is not yet on air during this section of the race, and little attention is paid to it in the recap. In the amateur race, on the other hand, the first third of the route is already worth reporting on: suddenly the whole field comes to a halt, including the accompanying bunch. They have obviously got lost in Voghera. Escort cars try to turn round, cursing or amusedly grinning participants lift and push their bikes in the other direction. Arrows stuck to crash barriers or road signs indicate the direction, but they are so small that they are easily overlooked.
The route continues at high speed towards Turchino. After 135 kilometres, the first refreshment point awaits on this climb. Newcomers realise here at the latest why a support vehicle or at least full jersey pockets are of great benefit: There are a handful of bananas, a few oranges and lemons as well as a few biscuits on three garden tables. There are also no readily available drinks in paper cups; instead, three helpers pour drinks from 1.5-litre bottles at their leisure. That can take a while with 800 participants.
The climb to the Turchino appears in every TV broadcast of the pro race. This is where the peloton comes to life and individual breakaways can show off their jerseys for a short time. Amateur riders who have the elevation profile in their head will get a boost of motivation after riding through the tunnel at the top of the pass. Isn't the worst part over? Now you reach the part of the route that television broadcasts enticing images of: the turquoise-coloured sea on the left, jagged rock faces on the right. On the "Riviera delle Palme", avenues of palm trees line the streets of the coastal towns, and the professional peloton races through a line of cheering people. Watching on TV, you can almost smell the salty scent of the sea, creating a mixture of holiday feeling and racing excitement.
For amateur riders, however, racing on closed roads is a distant utopia: cars slowly pushing their way through the coastal towns, red lights, pedestrians crossing the road and scooters looking for gaps in between. You're lucky if you can ride in the leading group behind the lead car or behind a support motorbike. Everyone else has to show the courage to find a gap: passing cars on the right or left, even the central reservation is an option. "I must have run an estimated hundred red lights between Genoa and San Remo," says Manuel Jekel. There are still 100 kilometres to the finish - or maybe a little more. Landslides along the coast force me to change routes, turning the official 290 kilometres into around 307 kilometres at the end of the day.
In the past and today: agony is part of it
The race from Milan to San Remo was organised for the first time in 1907. In the early years, individual breakaways actually managed to cross the finish line long before the peloton. Blurred black-and-white shots give an insight into the early days of the race: dirty figures struggle over visibly poor roads, a steam locomotive forces the riders to wait at a railway crossing, and breakdowns repeatedly cause forced breaks. Such images are not entirely unfamiliar even today. Even nostalgics would gladly do without the many potholes. "After 100 kilometres, I had a puncture on my rear wheel from a pothole, and on the coast I hit another mega pothole in a tunnel," reports Martin Mayer from Neu-Anspach. "I've never pushed my bike as hard as I did today," says Harald Aichinger from Linz, and Christoph Allwang from Munich also emphasises the poor road conditions.
The fight against oneself, against the road and the material, has retained elements of its raw original form. This is particularly visible in those who are travelling without a support vehicle. Far behind the leaders, some are fighting desperately against thirst and hunger, leg cramps and, above all, the constant headwind. The small spikes on the printed elevation profile suddenly no longer match the steep wall that grows into the sky in front of the salt-soaked eyelids. In the midday heat, scattered groups crawl along exhausted; all that counts is the desire to arrive.
Cipressa and Poggio - these are the last two major hurdles. In the professional race, the TV commentators now discuss the sprinting favourites. The Poggio lurks ten kilometres before the finish, and the countdown begins on the winding descent. Coups like the one in 2008, when Swiss rider Fabian Cancellara sprinted away with two kilometres to go and saved his lead to the finish line, rarely succeed. Between the palm trees on the harbour promenade, the crowds are packed and enjoy the spectacle of the final sprint. Freire, Zabel or Cavendish - San Remo always celebrates its winners with a big party.
Over the pavement to the finish
The finish for the amateur riders is in a side street, the contact mat for the transponder is somewhat hidden on the pavement next to the road. Just behind it is a finish arch, and a concrete ramp leads directly into a car park. Few spectators, no refreshment points to be seen - some of those who arrive look a little confused. Salt crusts on their skin and pale faces bear witness to the exertions of a 300 kilometre long feat of strength and concentration. Total exhaustion, overwhelming joy or thoughtful silence - everyone is overwhelmed by strong emotions here.
But not everyone is happy. "The route safety was dangerous, the coastal section was extremely stressful and the organisation was poor," complains Andreas Kublik. Others are less bothered by the event's shortcomings: "I didn't come because of the particularly good muesli bars," says Tobias Eifert from Neumarkt, and Karin Blümlein is also satisfied on balance: "Of course you can't compare it with the Ötztaler. You just have to accept a few disadvantages for the price." A-class amateur Matthias Weissinger from Grafenau, who was in the leading group and therefore didn't notice the problems of those further back, is simply delighted with his fourth place. Ulrich Zimmermann from Wegberg is taking part for the fourth time. He and his friends enjoyed it so much that they are planning to take part again in 2010. Stefan Karl from Munich sums up what makes the Gran Fondo so appealing: "The race character and the fact that you're travelling in the footsteps of the pros is what I like most." This year, for the 40th anniversary, hundreds of brave cyclists from all over Europe will once again be travelling to Milan. Günther Kulessa has already found enough fellow starters, and a private tour operator is also offering the tough endurance test. The participants are guaranteed to have a unique experience - and some will be glad that it will only be once.
Routeapprox. 303 km, 2200 m altitude difference
Info (only in Italian): www.ucsanremo.it
Travel package tour operator: www.velotravel.de
Travel package private tour about Günther Kulessa: http://milano-sanremo.net
