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Enter the Skier | General | ASI Reports | States
The Three Thirty Km's from Hell
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"The porridge is ready"
The phone rings at four o'clock am, Hoförs, 2hrs north east from Stockholm. Ido Poloni speaks the words I hoped I would never hear again. So begins the Millegrobbe tour 1998. Struggling hard to keep hard porridge number one, I doze in the back seat while we navigate through the fog to the airport at Arlanda. Two car shuffles, one u-turn, 5 red lights (ran), a few hundred grey hairs for Ido and we actually make the flight. Christer Mattsson, waiting at the terminal for an hour, thought he must have the wrong day. Jessica Hart and Line Börjes, following behind blindly through the fog, can't work out what all the stress is. We made it didn't we.
The flight to Milan sees 5 heads tilted back, mouths open and a couple of snores. I'm not the only one unused to getting up early in the morning. Somwhere during the flight Ido pays everyone their expenses for the trip to the airport. It's hard to see why the Millegrobbe wants to pay for us to fly down to Italy. Then again why not. We're four good looking people, multi talented, no serious criminal records. Role call. Christer Mattson, seasoned worldloppet competitor, a couple of trips to Australia under his belt, blonde hair blue eyed Swede, currently student of the infamous Mora Folkhögskola. Lina Börjes, former punk rocker, rollerski junior world champion, sort of blonde hair and also Mora FHS student. Jessica Hart, future Australian skiing champion, not blonde at all, studying something at Canberra but really from Sydney. And myself. Never aging Peter Pan style Aussie skier not skiing fast enough to make the Winter Olympics, blonde once but now not only at heart. Yep, an all expenses paid trip to Italy, and all we have to do in return is ski three 30 km skating races in three days. A piece of cake.
Trolley races outside the airport then Ido's friend Sergio picks us up half an hour late. We pack all our stuff into his mini-bus, which is already full of supplies for his metal goods business in Vicenza. Then.... . Actually we have no idea where we are going. We wind through tiny paved back streets, narrowly avoiding side-swiping cars and pedestrians, through an old walled town, up and around some hill and finally down a widened goat track to what seems like a large garden shed. Packed inside we find a dozen of Ido's relatives and friends all set for a four course meal. No matter how much we eat there is always more offered. We're not going to starve in Italy. Thanking no to one last piece of cake we move on into the night and arrive at the Albergo Bertoldi in the town of Chiesi, community of Lavorone, province of Trentino, north west from Venice, south from Val di Fiemme (home of the Marcialonga), about 40km from Asiago. For more precise directions send 10,000 lira to Poloni Travel, Höfors.
So what is the Millegrobbe anyway. If it hasn't been clear already, it is three 30km skating races in three days. Millegrobbe is actually the name of the ski area where the races start and finish. Approximately the first and last 5km of the course is the same each day, but the middle bit is different on the first two days and on the last day there is two loops of 15km. The altitude is about 1400-1500, and the hills make the Kangaroo Hoppet look like a breeze. There's no prizes for each day, only for overall winners after the three days. Ido has been bringing Swedes down to the race for years, and somehow we aussies got a foot in the door in 1996, when Anthony Evans placed fourth behind Maurilio De Zolt and Myfanwy Cross 5th behind Maria Canins.
Sometime along the way we learn that Ido Poloni is not in his mid 50's as we suspected but 69 years old. We would have bet that his two brothers were older than him and still complained when we lost our lira. Ido puts his health down to his lifestyle. He stopped smoking in 1971 and did his first Vasaloppet in 1972. He also quit all meat except fish 16 years ago. He is a pretty tough old guy. During the 2nd world war he worked for the Germans during the day then went out at night and destroyed everything he'd built.
"The porridge is ready". Race day one.
Maybe the porridge is ready but I'm not quite there. It is a struggle to get it all down, and the others make fun of me for taking so long. Typical, there has been a freeze overnight and the snow is completely different from yesterday. It is a bugger to test skis because towards the end of the race it will be wetter and softer. I brave the squat down toilet and somehow keep down breakfast. The race starts at 9:30 but if you want to get a good starting position you need to put your skis down at 8:30. Waho I get a good start and I'm away in about 3rd posi. By 5km, it wasn't easy but I manage to work my way back to about 15th in the lead pack of 50 odd. At 10km, I'm still 15th but the pack is only 15 and by golly my legs are burning just hanging in behind. 12km and I'm gone. The second group of about 7 goes straight past including Christer M. The next group of 5 take me with them, drag me to 20km then leave me, but I catch up on a long downhill and finally my legs recover. I kick over the hill at 25km and my skis also kick in on the wetter snow, and lo and behold I'm back up with Christer M in about 20th place. That's how it is at the finish. The winner is Juan Jesus Guitierrez from Spain, nearly 5 minutes ahead. The first woman is Maria Canins, she has won this event the last 5 times or close anyway. If the name is familiar, she was a world champion road cyclist and also holds the record for fastest woman in the Vasaloppet. Lina finishes 3rd and Jessica skis in solidly for 8th place, it is pretty tough back in the field battling with all the men. Jessica breaks her new years resolution of not eating chocolate but only realises half and hour later. One race down.
Pasta for lunch, pasta for dinner, pasta in our race bags. Yep, we're eating a lot of it. Actually it is very good pasta. Italians cant cook pizzas* but the pasta is buonissimo. Scusi signora, si piu avere ancora un po pasta, per favore. Anche lui, grazie.
"The porridge is ready." Race day two.
The porridge is tougher today and I don't manage to finish. But I do hold it all down despite trying hard. Surprise surprise, different snow conditions again. There has been snow overnight and it is pretty damn dry. They have taken out the big hill at 10km and put another one in at 20km. I don't want to go lactic like yesterday so I detach my carriage from the lead train of 11 skiers and connect it up to one stopping all stations. We cruise along for a while then pull in to take on supplies at a drink station, but as I'm carrying a camelbak all of a sudden I'm driving the train. Coming back up the valley there's a slight headwind and no-one wants the lead so I drive all the way up to 20km before I spit the dummy at the guy who has been standing on my poles and make him take the lead. 3km to go I end up in the driver's seat once more, pulling maybe 10 skiers. I wait and wait for someone to sprint but no one does, so what the heck I go with 200m left and only Christer M. takes me by half a ski. A couple of Italians come up and thank me for leading the pack, and I finally catch on that they were happy to cruise in and save themselves for tomorrow. Little do they know that I only ski faster the day after a hard race. At least that's what I try to convince myself as my legs scream at me walking up to the bus. Lina is 3rd again, Jessica moves up to 7th overall, Jesus and Maria kick butt again.
Jesus is pretty popular round here. Everybody is interviewing him and cheering and clapping him on the back, the local ski club has even recruited him and given him a hat to wear. He is like, well, he is as big as, well, someone really famous.
"The porridge is ready." Race day three.
If you were wondering about the significance of the porridge, this is how we are waken up every day by Ido Poloni. Personally, I would like to sleep in another half hour, but Ido wants to be certain we are ready in plenty of time. Today I have the never ending bowl of porridge. I eat and eat but I cant make a dint. All others in the breakfast room avert their eyes so they don't see the pitiful sight of me trying to force it down. I give up.
One day the train driver, the next the caboose. To get up into the money (top 10) I have to gain minutes so I go for broke and try to hang with Jesus. I get spat almost like my breakfast and I'm so far under that the second group goes straight past again. To put the icing on the cake I catch an edge on an icy corner and slide for 20m on my face. I bruise my knee, put a hole in my suit, lose many seconds and send my legs even more lactic. By the time I cruise enough to recover Jesus is most likely over the finish line and I finally crawl over the line in 25th place. Christer M. misses out on the 2nd group sprint and comes in 18th. Maria the Rabbit, Lina and Jessica retain their 1st, 3rd and 7th spots. Everyone takes home a trophy (me for person who lives furthest away), Lina and Jess pocket 200,000 and 50,000 lira respectively for their troubles.
So that was it. We lived through it. Good bye Italy. The journey home included the Rode factory in Asiago, dinner at Maria Rosa's house above the leather jacket factory including a creditible performance on flute by her daughter Erica, the obligatory stack of pasta at someone's sister's place, and general chaos on Italian roads again. We also checked out the goods in the market place in Marostica, the site of one of history's most famous chess games. Apparently a couple of guys wanted to duel to the death over the Lord of Marostica's eldest daughter, but the Lord said hey dont stain my carpet, can you play chess instead. Alright they said and played out a gruesome battle, but in the end no-one went away empty handed as the loser got to marry the younger daughter. Every year they reinact the game life size in the main square, full costumes horses lances swords blood and all, and the young guys draw lots to see who gets to play the pieces that killed, ahh just kidding, well pretty sure anyway.
Anyhow, enough bullshit from me, what have you been up to?
* In Italy. No offence intended to Italian restaurants in Australia. return
XC is the official website of the Skiing Australia Cross Country Committee. It is produced with the assistance of the Australian Sports Commission, the Australian Ski Institute and the Kangaroo Hoppet. The editor can be contacted via hoppet@netc.net.au.