With clear vision and a dry road, the exhilaration of sport-touring flooded back to me. There is something incredibly elegant about being a part of, and watching, a line of sport motorcycles threading their way through a series of corners. As each one leans into a bend, I find it absolutely thrilling to watch each bike perfectly emulate its predecessor just a moment later. There is a balletic rhythm to riding sport; it requires all of your concentration, but it is immensely gratifying to be a part of the train.

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Photograph by Mary Buch. (Click image to enlarge)

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Dropping into the town of Peron, a brilliant emerald lake glistened in the afternoon sun. The quiet breeze ruffled the water’s surface and at the back I could see a couple of long waterfalls dropping from the dark mountainous rock behind. Created by the unique mixture of minerals rushing off the Dolomites, the translucent green color of the water was startlingly beautiful; it was quite unlike anything either of us had ever seen before.

At about 3:30 pm we reached Colle San Lucia, just over a mile above sea level. Davide’s earlier promises of better scenery "a little farther" were clearly not empty ones. He’d smile knowingly and now I could see why. The gray, craggy rocks of the mountains were thrusting out of the snow laden slopes. We had left civilization behind and there were only a few buildings; it literally felt like we were on the roof of the world. We stopped and got off the bikes; this was a photo opportunity we couldn’t miss. (Click image to enlarge)

Photography appetites sated, we headed off on the final leg of the day’s ride, to the so-called Queen of the Dolomites: Cortina d’Ampezzo, host of the 1956 Winter Olympic Games. The road continued its snaking path. We were traveling downhill for the most part, and every few hundred yards there was another hairpin turn. I was trying to ride smoothly, but I could tell that Mary was becoming fatigued from having to fight the inertia of braking. Although we were closer, our path was now taking us uphill for the final time. The road is steep; crowned by the beautiful peaks of Tofane and Cristallo, the ski resort sits nearly two miles above sea level.

By the time we reached the absurdly luxurious Hotel Armentarola, the chase van had arrived and our luggage was already in our room. Paolo, ever the gracious host, gave us our room key and a quick run down of the spa amenities. Perfect! Off to the room for a quick change into a warm, fluffy towel robe, then down to the spa for a quick spin through the saunas, followed by a massage to relax the muscle tension that I had spent all day developing.


Hotel Armentarola's amenities are as luxurious as its views are spectacular. Photograph by Armentarola.

The hotel was dazzling; similar in the architecture we had seen all day. Our room was actually a two-level suite with double balconies and marble floored bathroom. The use of knotty pine throughout gave the whole property a warmth and fresh scent that also helped revitalize us. Meals were undoubtedly filling, and yet somehow they always seemed healthy; the ingredients were always fresh. Dinner was just like the others: a fun and relaxed affair. It consisted of a mix of meats, including venison, partridge, beef, and lamb, and was quietly washed down by a particularly pleasant red ’00 Amarone Valpolicella. The general ambience—fuelled by everyone’s memories of the astonishing scenery and challenging ride we had shared—was lively and laughter-filled. There is a definite bonding that occurs between motorcycle riders who have enjoyed thrilling and unusual experiences together, and this was definitely one of those occasions.