Somewhere about halfway up the Brenner Pass (1400 meters above sea-level and the lowest accessible point for cyclists to cross the Austrian alps into Italy) I had a chat with my glutes.
'Welcome glutes, so nice of you to join us. I was starting to think maybe I'd left you behind somewhere in a hotel, with forgotten remotes and odd socks, in a land far far away. But no, here you are at last! Sure it took a 1000m of climbing at a speed of 7km/hr, but you made it, and that's the main thing.'
I also asked myself, 'what would Cadel do?', (I still don't know but I doubt he would of eaten cake for lunch.)
We took the high road out of Innsbruck, accidentally, but were rewarded with sweeping views north and south down the valley. Brenner itself was an anti-climax with a bunch of designer outlet stores at it's peak. It's a popular cycle route and an abandoned railway line has been turned into God's gift to cycle trails. Hot-mix tarmac rolls gently down the hill overlooking the main freeway, running alongside a river, via derelict stations and past micro villages for about 25km. At one point a herd of runaway goats came out of nowhere. Bravo Italy, always full of surprises.