Episode 12: Champion Mountain Road
14,000 km Back Home: A Woman's Silk Road Journey By Min Hsieh
--- Part 1: The Plan Chapter 3: I Love Italy "Where people love me, there is my home."
--- Champion Mountain Road – Italy, DAY 20
The next day, David enthusiastically accompanied me for a portion of the ride before returning to Bologna.
After saying goodbye to David, I began to face the long-forgotten uphill climb. My body had now mastered the technique of cycling, slowly shifting gears on different slopes to achieve easier pedaling. I could finally lift my head to appreciate the surrounding scenery rather than just looking down and cursing through gritted teeth.
Suddenly, I realized that cycling is really quite similar to life—when facing different roads and situations, you need to shift to different gears and speeds. Now, if cycling feels difficult and strenuous, adjust the rhythm, pedal a few more circles, ride slower—it doesn't matter. Just like in life, when encountering adversity, don't merely lower your head and resist until exhaustion; slow down, steady your steps, move forward one step at a time. Eventually, you'll escape the slope and, from a higher place, appreciate and experience different perspectives.
As the rhythm of my daily life slowed, my mindset also calmed down.
I began to notice the small stones beside the wheels, the wild grass sprouting through cracks, the sound of water sliding along the river, and even the wind brushing against my face—besides being bitterly cold, it also carried a hint of freshness and excitement. These ordinary things had now become the rhythm that made me happy, the motivation to move forward. Following this rhythm, I casually chose which roads to take, turning without hesitation as long as it felt like the right direction. I reveled in this carefree state, away from human development.
But this lack of planning sometimes led me into difficult situations. Now, I found myself on an orchard path mixed with mud and stone, desperately pedaling forward. Soon the path became steeper, forcing me to dismount and push upward step by step, testing the traction of Thomas's shoes on my feet.
I couldn't remember how I had entered this orchard. Ten minutes earlier, I had asked an old farmer for directions. He was enthusiastic but, unable to understand what I was saying, called an English-speaking friend to help. But that friend didn't know where I wanted to go, so the farmer called another friend. After the farmer understood the directions, he explained them to the English-speaking friend, who then explained them to me over the phone.
Whether due to language barriers or my comprehension issues, I now found myself stuck on this muddy slope, unable to move forward or backward. My shoes were half-buried in the mud, and my bicycle, seemingly working against me, kept sliding downward with all its gear, not allowing me a moment's rest.
By the time I pushed near the top of the slope, my strength was nearly depleted. Just then, a dog barked. Looking up, I saw a building ahead, with the owner poking his head out from the balcony, noticing my struggle to keep the bike from sliding backward.
With both hands supporting the bicycle, I couldn't wave, so I shouted: "Excuse me, I'm lost. Is there a road ahead that I can take?" I wasn't sure if he understood English—based on my experience these past few days, the chances were low. But from the Italian words flowing from his mouth and his rich body language, he seemed to be enthusiastically giving directions, gesturing toward what lay ahead. I interpreted this to mean there was indeed a road ahead!
Sure enough, after pushing a bit further, I returned to a paved road, instantly breathing a sigh of relief. I realized how contradictory I was—one moment wanting to escape human footprints and run into nature's embrace, the next feeling reassured by the black arteries humans had created on Earth. I sat by the roadside for a short rest, replenishing water and having some snacks, letting my limbs rest. They were trembling slightly from overexertion.
After finishing the apple David had given me, I grabbed my bike and continued forward. I needed to get back on the road before my body cooled down. In this weather, staying warm was crucial—I had to be careful not to catch a cold.
Today's Couchsurfing host was in Florence, the birthplace of the Renaissance. But today's cycling route didn't seem as appealing as the city I was heading to. Facing an endless uphill road, I laboriously pedaled slowly. Despite developing some muscle over the past two weeks on the road, I still couldn't handle such a long, continuous uphill. Alternating between pushing and pedaling, I finally reached the top, cheering enthusiastically at the downhill ahead.
Glancing at the odometer on my handlebars, I realized I had climbed about fifteen kilometers of continuous uphill. My physical strength and muscles felt like deflated balls—soft and powerless.
Well, that's okay! Now comes the downhill!
Happily letting the bike rush downhill at full speed, enjoying the fruits of my previous efforts, but soon another major uphill appeared. My legs could no longer bear the gravity of the climb, forcing me to dismount and push the bike up.
What followed was an endless cycle of downhills and uphills, and I continuously alternated between cycling downhill and pushing the bike uphill.
The sun had hidden behind clouds at some point, and the surrounding scenery changed. The originally poetic and beautiful views along both sides of the road, which could be gazed upon from above, now gathered fog. Soon after, they formed what looked like an endless sea of clouds, rolling and surging magnificently. I felt as if I had suddenly jumped into a massive, living painting, with only my front wheel and the black highway occasionally visible through this breathtaking sea of clouds.
My heart stirred with these waves, imagining my role in this painting—so tiny, yet simultaneously merged with the scene. How marvelous!
Just as I was inwardly cheering, the white surges rapidly engulfed the black highway, and my vision was instantly swallowed by dense fog.
This was bad! Visibility was less than a meter. I couldn't see the road, oncoming vehicles, or where I was. The sky darkened quickly, and I was still on the spine of the Apennine Mountains. Realizing this, my pulse began to race violently, my palms cold yet slightly sweaty. I could imagine what darkness would be like, its force already enveloping my heart before its arrival.
Finally, it got completely dark, but the fog showed no sign of dispersing. I wanted to find a place to rest, even set up my tent to get through this exhausting day. But stopping made me so cold, and I had eaten all my food. My stomach was desperately demanding from my brain, and energy was rapidly draining from my feet. I didn't know how much longer this road would be, and I was already too tired to move. Accompanied by hunger and fear, my brain was completely knotted, thoughts spinning rapidly, imagining a nauseating liquid continuously expanding in my heart. I had no ability to calm down and think about how to escape this predicament. My willpower was rapidly disintegrating in the darkness. I couldn't control my emotions and stopped in the dense fog to cry loudly. With hands supporting the bike, tears and mucus covering my face and neck, I could only occasionally wipe away the liquid clinging to my chin with my gloves. After crying for a while, standing seemed pointless, so I began walking and crying.
In the midst of despair, my body developed an automatic function, unconsciously carrying me step by step forward, step by step trying to break free from this darkness. Through the dense fog, a car stopped, and the male driver asked if I needed help. There was also a woman holding a child in the car.
"I need to go to Florence, but I can't ride anymore," I said, barely controlling my sobbing.
The man looked at my bicycle and gear, then at his car.
"I'm sorry I can't help you, but I know this road very well. Just hang in there a little longer. After a few more hills, there will be a continuous major downhill that will take you all the way into Florence," the man said.
Hearing this, hope ignited in my heart. I thanked him profusely and watched his taillights disappear into the fog.
"Okay, keep going! Just a few more slopes until the downhill." After clearing the mucus and tears from my face, I continued pushing the bike forward, telling myself to endure five more uphills!
But after five downhills and uphills, I encountered yet another uphill.
Three more, then! I continued to tell myself. I had lost count of how many sets of three I had encountered, but the final hope became the motivation to move forward. Almost there, almost there, just hang in a little longer, almost there!
That long-awaited downhill finally appeared in a small town, next to a bar with an old man smoking outside. I excitedly cheered loudly and, taking advantage of the gradually dispersing fog, slid downhill for over ten kilometers, finally reaching my Couchsurfing host's home in Florence.
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Closing Remarks
✨ Your Turn: What wisdom have you discovered during difficult times that later became meaningful to you? I'd love to hear your stories!
📅 Time Frame: This story chronicles my journey across two continents between November 2013 and October 2014. Published independently in Taiwan in 2021, it is now shared as an English serialized novel through AI translation, connecting with friends worldwide to share this journey of personal growth.
📅 Next Episode: "The Empty Church"