Conference noted::bicycle

    It occured to me that most of us have some idea of the TDF
    route, whether it be clock wise or counter clockwise, when it hits
    the Alps and Pyrenees and the variations.  What do folks
    know about the Giro?  Is it North then South or Vice-versa?
    Up the East coast down the West?  Where do they do "the real
    Mountains"?  Do they hit any of the islands?
    
    TV coverage?
    
    ed

    	Ed,
    
    	Here's the picture (roughly) from VeloNews:
    
    	(Remember, Italy looks like a boot with the toe pointing)
    	(to the southwest)
    
    	1. The race starts in the northwest part of Italy near the
    	   coast of the Tyrrhenian Sea.
    
    	2. It then proceeds southeasterly to the Adriatic Sea.
    
    	3. It then proceeds south until Melfi, where it turns west and
    	   then northwest.
    
    	4. North of Montepulciano and west of Arezzo, the race crosses its
    	   original course and heads due north to a place near the northern
    	   border.
    
    	5. From there (Corvara Alta Badia), the race winds its way around
    	   in the northern-most region of Italy.
    
    	Scott

    
    Stages 15 and 17, for example, sound quite Alpine:
    
    Riva di Garda is along Lake Garda, a glacial lake cut
    out of the mountains (one of the Italian Lakes), and
    Sondrio is at the base of a steep climb to a pass into
    Switzerland, among others.
    
    (This is all very vague because it's from memory, without
    recourse to a map.)
    
    -john

    I can see it now, Riva di Garda is mentioned.  John closes his
    eyes, his feet start to make some funny motions, he feels the
    breeze on his face.  Then, he begins to sweat as he imagines the
    ascent from the valley ... (time passes) again a smile as he
    imagines the summit ...
    
    ed

    
    Or maybe a similar image applied to the Ascent of Mont Vernon?
    
    -john

    
    "Rain had come in the night to the mountain village of Sterzing (Vitupeno)
     on the Via Brennero, and the day dawned wet and grey.  Even descending
     the pass was work, bucking an up-valley wind.  To my left wound the
     main rail line; above, below, writhing like a snake, with its rusty
     guardrails, twisted the Innsbruck-Bolzano Autostrada.  Clearing Bolzano, 
     one short, sharp hump separated me from the cavernous Lago di Garda, into
     which I plunged like a haunted man ... haunted by the near-vertical
     granite canyon enclosing this cigar-shaped glacial lake.  The granite's
     grey was only enhanced by the dull overcast, as I skirted the sea on
     a tiny road clinging to the side of the gorge, frequented by tiny
     Italian cars and the occasinal huge Italian tourbus, honking their
     way around the blind curves.   The lake seemed to have its own gravity
     walled in as it was, a marked contrast to the festive pennants and
     beach furniture of its resorts, now deserted at this season..."
    
                                    - from "My Life as a Cyclopede," p.453

    
>>    TV coverage?
    
	Ed, you're a comedian!
    
    	Sorry, couldn't help myself. The keys just kinda pressed
    themselves...
    
    	Graham.