Newsgroup: it.sport.ciclismo
Titolo: Hampsten e la Tappa del Gavia

From 
Bruce.Hi...@eng.Sun.COM
 Mon Feb 14 09:41:33 2000
Date: Tue, 24 Nov 1998 22:27:39 -0800 (PST)
To: 
ser...@difi.unipi.it
Subject: Re: Bruce H & CycleSport (fwd)
Sergio,
here is the text of the article.  
Enjoy!
Cheers,
Bruce
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The Gavia Pass stage of the 1988 Giro not only proved to be the pivotal day
of the entire race, but the sheer brutality of the conditions the racers
faced made this one of the truly classic days in history of professional
cycling.  The great Italian cyclist and former winner of the Giro, Francesco
Moser put the whole affair into perspective, "I have seen stages where it
finished on a climb in conditions like this, but never with such a descent."
One must remember that in 1988, the Gavia Pass was still largely a dirt road
on the south side, which the riders ascended, and the first 3 miles on the
descent were also dirt! However, all things change and this year, the
last of the dirt was finally paved.  They key player in this whole drama
and the winner of the 1988 Giro, Andy Hampsten, finally returned to the
Gavia Pass this summer.  Andy has never given a full account of the epic
climb and descent, and it is almost ironic that on the day he rode back up
and over the Gavia to tell the tale, there was a record setting heat wave
in Northern Italy.  Your intrepid reporter accompanied Andy over the pass
on their bikes, attempting to record every comment between gasping for breath
and hoping that Andy's legs would somehow fail him, something that clearly
did not happen on that fateful day 10 years ago.
Andy:
"From the start of the Giro, I knew the Gavia Pass was going to be the key
stage.  The 1966 winner of the Giro, Italian Gianni Motta had befriended
our team and throughout the early stages of the Giro he kept telling me
"Andy, the Gavia is your stage to take the pink jersey".  It was really
cool that an Italian was so supportive of an American and an American
team trying to win his national race.
We knew that the conditions were going to be pretty bad on the Gavia Pass.
The morning of the stage, the race director held a meeting with all the
team managers and he told them that it was snowing on top of the pass
but the road was clear.  Armed with that information, our support personnel
scoured the shops in Sondrio, where we were staying and bought all the
warm gloves and wool hats they could find.  Each rider was then asked to
pack a special mussette bag which was to be handed to the rider 1/2mi
before the summit of the pass.  All our warmest clothes including the hats
and gloves went into the bag.
The stage had two climbs, the relatively minor Passo Aprica, a 2000 foot
climb followed by a 1500 foot descent then a long, gradual 2000 foot ascent
up a valley to the 4500 foot, 10 mile climb over the Gavia followed by
a 15 mile, 4500 foot descent into Bormio and the stage finish.
Things started to look grim on the descent of the Aprica.  I was wearing
tons of clothes, but the rain had been coming down in buckets from the
start of the stage and I was shaking badly from the wet and cold.  In the
valley going up to the base of the Gavia I was upset because this was going
to be my big day and it appeared that it was not going to happen.  Slowly,
I began to accept that it was going to be bad and that it was going to
be bad for everyone else.  I convinced myself that I should just stick
to the plan that we had hatched weeks before.  I had a good relationship
with my coach, Mike Neel, and I trusted him.  In 1985, my first Giro, he
and I had driven the route of my first stage win in the morning before
the stage started.  Mike had shown me the exact spot to make my attack
and I went on to win the stage.
I realized that I had to go 100% on the attack and hold nothing back.
I had about 10 kilos of wet clothing from the weather, but I had to
get rid of everything.  I dumped my leg warmers and 2 extra jerseys.
I was down to shoes and socks, shorts, 1 undershirt, a thin long-sleeve
polypro top and clear Oakleys.  I was wearing the "performance" jersey
which is the rider with the best combined point totals in sprints,
climbing and overall classification made of pretty thick wool, which
was nice! My biggest asset was that I kept my neoprene gloves.  I
realized that I had to keep my hands warm or I couldn't function.
Going up the valley, the "boys" (i.e. my teammates) were doing everything
they possibly could for me; bringing me hot tea every 5 minutes; taking
my clothes, etc.  I was not sure how much I would have to suffer, but I
felt that we were all going to have to go to a new limit to get over the
pass.  I knew I could suffer, but I also knew it would be very hard for
my teammates so I was trying to psyche them up as well.  I remember telling
Bob Roll that this would probably be the hardest day on the bike in our
lives.
At the bottom of the climb, the Del Tongo team was at the front riding
tempo for their race leader, Chioccioli, but, everybody knew I was going
to attack.  When the road steepened, I went to the front and all the
climbers marked my wheel.  I could hear them muttering "Hampsten is
going to attack" and trying to discourage me. At this point the road
was still paved, but when I came around a left-hand switchback and saw
the road turn to dirt and the 16% sign, I punched it.  I was definitely
playing head games.  I wanted  the other riders to be afraid of both my
strength and of the height of the climb.  The other riders knew I was
strong, I had won the mountain stage to Selvino two days before.  I
was putting my cards on the table now, so early on the climb, because
on the valley approaching the Gavia, I had re-affirmed my commitment
to attack on this day.
I was prepared to attack multiple times, but I was relieved to see it
break up so quickly into little groups.  Zimmermann, Breukink, Chioccioli
and Delgado were all chasing, but it was definitely breaking up.  There
was a small breakaway of minor riders up the road that was coming apart
so I concentrated on picking off those riders.  I was glad to finally be
going hard again because I was still cold from the descent off the Aprica
some 10 miles back.
Because of all the rain, the dirt was really shaky.  It was pretty soft,
each tire left a groove mark.  I had to use my 39x25 to make progress.
I think I was more comfortable on the dirt than everyone else; I trained
a lot on dirt in Colorado and I had ridden a lot in the snow in Colorado
and in winters in North Dakota, I had ridden my bike 3 miles each way to
school in the snow.
As I climbed higher and higher, my mind started wandering and the
psychological aspects of what was happening started to creep into
my mind.  I felt that I had achieved my results, to date, without
taking any shortcuts, but when it started getting bad, I thought
about what I could do to make things better.  I gave up on asking
God for any help, I was blessed already having the privilege of racing,
instead I speculated on what I would bargain for if the devil showed up.
Demoralized by this chain of thought, I realized that at the
beginning of the day, I had relied only on myself to get me through the
stage. On the Gavia, as always, there where no shortcuts and I had never
looked for help from pills or other aids, although I was in such a mental
state that I doubt I would have resisted any temptation that delivered me
to Bormio.  I must rely on myself to see me through.
At 4mi to go to the summit, my mind started going into a fog.  I was going
hard, but it was not like I was murdering anyone, Breukink was the closest
behind at about 1 minute back.  I started thinking about how cold I was now
and the 15mi descent from the summit and the doubts started creeping
in.....
were the team cars going to get through?  Would the soigneur be there at
2.5 mi to go with hot tea?  Would Och be there at 1km to go with my bag?
What would I do when I got my bag?  I realized that if I stopped to put
something on, I probably wouldn't keep going, so I decided to just take
the bag and keep riding.
About 3mi from the top, I went to put on a wool hat but decided first to
brush the water out of my hair, but my hand went 'thunk' on a huge
snowball that fell onto my back.
I got a bottle of hot tea from our soigneur ET at the point of the climb
that was carved out of the mountain-side, which is about 2.5 miles below the
summit. I tried to hug the mountainside and get a moment of shelter but
the spectators where more determined to shelter themselves than move. At
1mi to go, the wind picked up and the snow was blowing hard into my face.
I was creating tracks in the snow from my tires, but the traction was OK.
Now I really started thinking about the 15mi of descending and how cold I
was and how much colder I could get.
At 1/2mi to go, I took my special bag with a jacket and gloves from Och.
The wind was blowing so hard that I could barely keep the bike going and
put my jacket on, no-hands.  In retrospect, I should have just stopped and
put the jacket on since I lost 40-50 seconds to Breukink and he eventually
caught me at the top, but if I had stopped, I may never have started again!
When I saw the buildings I thought that was the top of the climb (it was!)
and if I was going to stop, I should do so here.  But I really wanted to
race at that point.  It wasn't survival yet.
By the way it was snowing and the way the flakes were coming down, I
figured the storm was coming from the north so I reckoned that the
conditions would be much worse on the descent.  Because of this, I didn't
fly over the top but held back to save some energy for the descent.
When Breukink caught me at the top, at first, I thought I would follow him
on the descent but he was going so slowly when the descent started that I
figured I should go in front and make my own mistakes.  I learned later
that Breukink never put on a jacket.  Instead, his team manager, Peter Post
followed him down the descent and kept him alert by yelling and cursing
at him.
I only had one gear for the descent, all the others had iced up and I kept
thinking that I must keep pedaling to keep that one gear free of ice.
The road at the top of the descent was gravel.  It was better for
descending than asphalt as it did not ice up.  I tested it a couple of
times to see if it was solid and it was.  The spectators on the descent
did not know if the race had been cancelled so they were wandering all over
the road.  On one turn, I almost hit a Carerra team mechanic holding a
spare pair of wheels and walking down the middle of the road.  I remember
he was wearing this beautiful gore-tex full body suit and I really wanted
to have it on me!
As I descended, I got colder and colder.  I tried to shut out the cold and
concentrate on the road ahead.  It was asphalt now, but luckily it was not
icy.  I tried not to break too hard.  When I used the brakes, first I had
to break the ice from the rims, then scrape the water off before I got
any stopping power.
I was concerned about hypothermia and just how much colder I could get
before I was no longer able to pedal the bike.  My arms were basically
locked up from the start of the descent, I just tried to keep pedaling
to keep my legs moving.  At one point, I looked down at my legs and through
a layer of ice and lanolin grease, I could see that they were bright red.
After that, I didn't look at my legs again.
About 10km into the descent, Mike Neel in the team car caught up with
me.  There wasn't much he could do, the snow had turned to a cold rain,
all I cared  about was getting down to a place which was warm and I could
stop.
At about 6km to go, Breukink caught me, but I was totally blocked and
could not respond.  Breukink had no rain jacket on, just a jersey, so he
could descend faster on the long straight drop into Bormio.  There was no
bloody way I was going to take my jacket off.
After I crossed the finish line, I headed straight for our our soigneur,
Julie.  I was in such a rage trying to get down the mountain in one piece
that when our team doctor, Max Testa, came up behind me and tried to put
his
jacket around me, I didn't realize who it was and since he was keeping me
from Julie and my warm clothes, I started punching him.  Mike Neel came
over and straightened me out and got me in the team car, which was running
it's heater full blast!  When I started to warm up the pain started to come
back.  Mike then told me I had the jersey and the pain and the euphoria
swept over me and I just started crying, laughing and shaking.  A whole wave
of emotions covering the rage to finish the stage to the realization that
I would survive me a brief and refreshing emotional meltdown .
Within 10 minutes of the finish, I was up on the podium.  The pink jersey
felt good.  I slipped it on and all my doubts when away.  The TV interviews
began and I remember saying 'Incredible, I have never seen conditions like
this, even in Colorado. Today it was not sport, it was something beyond
sport."
Everyone who made it over the Gavia that day was a winner.  Even to this
day, there is a clique of riders whose bond is that they rode over the
Gavia that day.
One reason I think the Italian fans liked the stage was that it epitomized
their lives, especially post-war.  All the suffering they had to endure to
survive was similar to what I was going through."
Epilogue:  When Andy retired from racing in 1996 he bought a villa in
Tuscany which he and his wife, Linda renovated.  While their two-year old
daughter, Emma keeps them busy they still find time to grow grapes for
wine, olives for oil and run a bicycle touring company designed to
share the wealth of food, culture and quiet roads found in Tuscany.
They may be contacted via E-mail at 
hamps...@etruscan.li.it
 for
further information about their bicycle touring adventures.

10 e lode.

 in piena estate, figuriamoci con un tempo come quello!
Io ero gia' molto piu' grande e c'ero passato svariate volte con le mie
bici da corsa (che vanno ancora benissimo!).
Quindi tu giocavi a bocce vicino alla fonte ferruginosa di Santa
Apollonia nel campetto dell'Albergo Pietrarossa? E i cavalli?
La prossima volta salutami Rodolfo, al banco del vino, sperando che sia
ancora li' senza cirrosi. Che pizzocheri che faceva suo fratello!
Salutami Giuliana che faceva il formaggio un km circa piu'
avanti andando verso il campeggio, ma anche Zorro e 'la Pastora' che
veniva la sera a mangiare gli avanzi di cucina li' fuori sulla panca.
Che luogo da favola!
Sergio
Pisa 

 grandi scalatori o anche semplicemente appassionati cicloturismo ?
------------------------------------------------------------------------
O l'uno, o l'altro.
Per farle come allenamento alle gare ci vuole un ciclista dei migliori,
altrimenti non e' un buon allenamento. Per farle da cicloturista ci vuole
uno che sia allenato, sufficientemente motivato e che sappia come
prenderle.
Tieni conto che il Gavia e il Giau venivano imbrecciati ben bene dall'ANAS
in occasione del Giro. Quando ci passavano i 'bischeri' erano ancora piu'
tremendi.
Una volta stavo scendendo il Gavia su Ponte di Legno e un'auto si e' fermata. 
Il guidatore mi disse: 'Lei e' senz'altro bravo, ma devo fare i 
complimenti anche alla sua bici!' 
Aveva ragione perche' i sassi e le buche erano enormi, e per chilometri.
Ovviamente scendevo molto piano e con attenzione. 
Bene, quelle due bici che ho sempre adoperato sono quelle che uso tuttora.
Comprane una buona!
Sergio 
Pisa