It may be a sui generis group, we never officialized it, nor gave it a name, there is no Motorcycle Club behind it, not a member card nor a license; there is only a bar that is our Sunday meeting spot and a call message sent on Fridays.
For 15 years a group of more than ten people, with completely different paces, waited for one another at crossroads, helped each other on trails and laughed hysterically in the woods in Central Italy, like that time when, at the end of a steep and demanding plunge, we stopped to wait for Luca.
After a few minutes, here he came placidly out of the woods, unaware of a bullet shell stuck between his helmet and visor, clearly a consequence of a harmless fall.
Upon his arrival a banter begun:
“Luca, is everything OK? Did you fall?”
“Who me? ABSOLUTELY NOT!”
“Than watch out, hunting season is open!”
He was dumbfounded by our answer and laughter until we reached the restaurant where he understood everything when he took off his helmet and started suggesting very interesting destinations for our future tips!
In these 15 years, thanks to our passage and without even realizing it, we maintained a dense web of paths and trails that connect towns, restaurants and panoramic viewpoints. And only we, as endurance motorcyclists, could do it; where mountains are “unbranded”, as where I live, when their name isn’t Col di Tenda or Dolomites, there is no C.A.I. (Club Alpino Italiano – Italian Alpine Club) maintaining them, no maps nor officially marked trails; often, in certain areas, we enduro riders are the only users and guardians. Paths and trails are known by the names verbally passed down from our grandparents! To close them would mean to impoverish the territory, even animals wouldn’t be able to use them as they would be lost!
This is another, the nth, aspect of a motor discipline that has no boundaries and can hardly be categorized!
Text and photos: Dario Lupin