V Addio Bellagio as We Bring the Bikes Back to Milan

The rest of the trip will feel odd without a motorcycle. There is such agency that comes with a vehicle, and an added immediacy or presence on a motorcycle. A motorcyclist engages with his or her environment in a way that no other mode of travel offers. I never feel like a tourist on a bike; rather I feel part of the landscape, as I feel the curvature of little pieces of earth as I wend my way down the road.

Bellagio to Milan today was an early day. We woke up in this fancy little hill-town, and were out of the door even before our hostess was even preparing breakfast, at about 7am.

I wanted to get some footage of the Bellagio waterfront, which I think must look a little like the French Riviera.
Huge, ornate, colonial era (or likely older) hotels are built on the hillside. Terraced cafes and patios extend to the edge of the lake, where ferries and boats arrive. The blue water extends for miles, when it dissolves into thunderingly intense, steep mountains. The mountains are so high that there are quite visibly other weather patterns at the peak, and at 7am the mountain precipices were gently carving into the wispy morning clouds.
Even as we groggily got back on our bikes to race back to Milan, the sight was idyllic, and so powerfully beautiful I could almost cry. I hope I get to come back here someday.

We rushed off around twisty roads back towards Lecco, stopping in Limonte and any other towns blessed a beneficence of the morning light. We wound our way through the city of Lecco, and through our last tunnels of the trip, wondering how we would feel without bikes for the remainder of our journey.

I’m sure it will feel a bit odd, but we’re off to an almost holy pilgrimage for Italian motorcycle aficionados. The Moto Guzzi Museum was cool, but a guided tour at the Ducati factory would be legendary.