Italy 2025 – Ep 2

From Wedding Bells to Thunderclaps: Three Days of Chaos, Curves & Cold Wine in Northern Italy

Day covered: 13.07.25 to 15.07.25

Day 4 – The Thunderstorm Tango: Rezzato to Pergola (13.07.25)

Let me just start by saying: If you’re ever tempted to stay in a palace hotel thinking you’ll sleep like a royal… don’t. Unless your idea of regal dreams includes thumping Euro dance tracks and screaming wedding guests until the wee hours. Yep, we got stitched up by a full-blown Italian wedding reception. Sleep? Nah mate. We copped a cultural experience instead.

So there we were, wide awake before sunrise, looking like roadkill in Klim gear, dragging ourselves to the breakfast buffet at 7am like zombies in search of espresso and dignity. By 8:30am, we were packed up and ready to leg it — destination: Pergola.

The day’s mission? Cross the Po plain. Now, anyone who’s ever ridden across it will know that calling it a “plain” is being too generous. It’s flatter than a lizard in the outback, and about as exciting as watching paint dry on a hot tin shed.

We avoided the motorway because, well, who wants to snooze on a straight highway with trucks blowing past like you’re a meat pie on wheels? So we took the “scenic” route — which basically meant roundabouts. At least they had curves. The rest? A monotonous blend of farms, factories, and the occasional bloke on a scooter giving us the nod of approval.

Then, sweet salvation: the Lombardy mountains.

Ahhh, now we’re talking. Twisty roads, fresh air, and loads of Sunday riders out to play. The kind of place where the GS finally gets to flex its muscles and stop sulking from the Po-plain punishment.

We made it to Bobbio — beautiful spot, all rustic charm and gelato vibes — when the skies suddenly turned blacker than a tradie’s coffee. Thunderstorm. Big one. The kind where even ducks look for cover.

Lucky for us, we spotted a bar with a covered outdoor area and did what any reasonable rider would do — we dived under it like it was a cricket pavilion during a hailstorm. Two hours we sat there, sipping on overpriced Cokes and watching water bucket down like a biblical flood. Still, wasn’t all bad. We got chatting with a gang of local teens who were surprisingly fluent in English and genuinely curious about the bike and the whole “riding around Europe for fun” concept. Legends, really.

When the rain eased off and our socks had dried a bit, we gave up on reaching Pergola and booked into a hotel nearby. Should’ve known better. It was one of those overpriced joints with the charm of a hospital waiting room — €180 for the privilege of a lukewarm shower and pillows that felt like folded napkins.

Still, the storm passed, and tomorrow’s forecast looked good. So we crossed our fingers and drifted off, hoping tomorrow would be more twisties and fewer towel rack disappointments.

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Day 5 – Tyres, Churches & Twisties: Pergola to Uscio (14.07.25)

Today’s to-do list had just one serious item: get new tyres on the GS. The back tyre was looking about as bald as your Uncle Kev after a week in the sun, so it was time to fork out the Euros and get some fresh rubber.

Destination: Genova BMW Motorrad.

We kicked things off with a cracking ride out of the mountains. The storm had scrubbed the sky clean, the air was crisp, and the roads were dancing like an Italian nonna after too much grappa. The SS45 was a particular beauty — a writhing serpent of tarmac, all curves and no traffic. The GS was happier than a koala in a gum tree, carving corners like it was born to be Italian.

Rolled into BMW Genova at 11am sharp, covered in bug guts and optimism. We were greeted by a friendly sales rep who, bless him, actually spoke English. Within 30 minutes, it was all sorted: fresh Pirelli rubber, fitting time 3pm, €370 damage. Fair price considering we were desperate and they didn’t laugh at our muddy panniers.

With a few hours to kill, the rep pointed us toward Boccadasse — a picturesque seaside corner of Genova known for seafood and Instagrammable vibes. Off we trotted via taxi, melting in our riding gear like camels in a sauna.

Despite the heat, it was a stunning spot. Colourful houses, salty breeze, tiny beach with half of Genova tanning themselves like rotisserie chickens. We shuffled around, found a scenic perch, then retreated to the cool stone interior of St. Anthony’s church. Not for prayer, mind you — just to cool down and book accommodation.

We figured staying in the city wasn’t ideal — cities and panniers are a crap combo — so we booked a B&B in Uscio, a mountain village about 50km away.

At 3:30pm, new tyres were on, wallet was lighter, and we were back on the road. Escaping Genova was its own special hell (hello Italian traffic chaos), but soon we were dancing up mountain roads again. Zero traffic, endless corners, and mountain air fresher than a menthol mint in winter.

Uscio welcomed us like long-lost cousins. We pulled up to Anita B&B — a charming spot run by a lovely couple, Anita and Bob. Genuine folks, the type who give you wine without asking and seem to know every neighbour by name. The village itself was a 10-minute stroll away and had everything we needed: bar, pizzeria, and a view to die for.

The only downside? No covered parking for the bike. The GS had to sleep under the stars, which to be fair, is kind of romantic if you ignore the potential for bird poop.

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Day 6 – Chill Vibes and Cheap Wine: Uscio (15.07.25)

Sometimes the best riding day is the one where you don’t ride at all. After a few big days in the saddle and that thunderstorm tango, we called a rest day in Uscio. And what a bloody good call it was.

The village is small — like “blink and you’ll miss it” small — but packed with charm. We spent the day wandering around, soaking up the peace and quiet, and chatting with Bob and Anita who might just be the best B&B hosts on the planet. Bob’s Italian was seasoned with Yorkshire English, and Anita had that warm “nonna energy” that makes you feel like you’ve come home, even if you’re in sweaty Enduro boots.

After a bit of a recon mission into town, we hit the local Alimentari (basically a deli-meets-corner-shop) to grab the essentials: water, salty snacks, and, of course, wine. Found a bottle of local red for the price of a sandwich, and it turned out to be the nectar of the gods.

Dinner was casual — a chatty mix of other guests, some laughs, and plates of local goodness that probably cost less than our lunch in Genova. We sat outside under the stars, sipping wine and listening to the buzz of a village that hasn’t changed much in 50 years.

It was a reminder that travel isn’t always about smashing out the kilometres or ticking off landmarks. Sometimes it’s about slowing down, finding a corner of the world that’s quiet, warm, and kind — and just bloody enjoying it.

#dustysocks