Legs and a battery pushed to their limits: A ride though Swiss Pescia

Just one of a hundred
little side torrents.

One of my favorite rituals in Toscana is heading north of Pescia into the Valleriana—or as it’s known today, Svizzera Pesciatina. The name came from the Swiss historian Sismondi, who lived here centuries ago and found the rugged chestnut forests and rushing streams so reminiscent of his homeland that he dubbed it the “Switzerland of Pescia.” Personally, I think adding “Swiss” to any word makes it sound a bit more elegant.

While I usually take a car through these narrow mountain roads, I recently realized that experiencing the Svizzera Pesciatina on two wheels is incomparable.

Almost to the top!

I set out with my son-in-law, Dan, to tackle the main roads. On a bike, the ascent is a completely different sensory experience. Every few hundred meters, the roar of a hidden stream would tumble down the hillside, cooling the air before joining the river Pescia below. Without car windows to block the world, we were fully immersed in the climb.

Now, climbing from 200 feet in Pescia to 2,500 feet in the village of Pontito sounds daunting, but our strategies differed. Dan is an experienced cyclist who seems to enjoy a bit of physical torture; he was on a sleek Italian road bike rented from Amici Bici in Lucca. I, however, am not big on self-flagellation. I was on my Italwin e-bike. As long as I kept my feet moving, the motor did the heavy lifting.

By the time we reached the top, Dan was dripping with sweat, chasing what he describes as an “invigorating sense of accomplishment.” I, meanwhile, hadn’t broken a sweat and was free to simply observe the beauty of nature—and anticipate the lunch Dan was treating me to at La Pieve in Castelvecchio.

After lunch, we climbed a bit further to the borgo of Lanciole, where we parted ways. Dan, seeking more invigoration, headed higher toward Femminamorta. He was the lucky one—he spotted half a dozen cinghiali (wild boar) crossing the road, a sight I’ve only seen once in all my years here.

As I began my return, I noticed my power had dropped to two bars. Wanting to save juice for the final climb up to Montecarlo, I clicked off the handlebar power. It’s all downhill from Lanciole to Pescia, so I figured I was safe.

I figured wrong.

One of the many cities we saw on our ride.

There must have been a ghost drain on the battery, because by the time I reached Pescia, I was down to one bar—and then, silence. An e-bike is "hecka" heavy, and there was no way I was pushing that beast up the 25-minute incline to Montecarlo on foot. I managed to pedal to the Bianchi macellaria in San Salvatore, chained the bike behind the shop, and called for a rescue. Daughter Sandra and wife Lucy scooped me up on their way back from shopping, leaving my bike to spend the night at the butcher's.

As I type this, my legs are starting to cramp, and I’m reaching for a second electrolyte tablet. I may have bragged about the motor doing the work, but Google Maps reminded me that my 73-year-old body still covered 33 miles and 3,000 feet of elevation. I think my legs have earned the right to complain a little.

The battery is charging now, and tomorrow I’m going back for my bike—and perhaps looking into buying a second battery for the next “Swiss” adventure.