Even slowing down in the Alps didn’t really do wonders for my mood. The whole thing with Isabelle has left me a little unravelled. Compared to any challenges that bicycle touring across Europe for a year can throw at me, relationship and friendship woes are 100 times more difficult to deal with.

Plus I seem to have picked up some of her bad habits. Very unlike her, I’ve kind of prided myself with never losing or breaking things, because I tend to be careful with my stuff. For example, there’s this little black plastic thing that I need to cover my camera’s viewfinder with when shooting time-lapse. I just keep it in my right pocket, where it’s free to fall out when I’m sleeping, or while taking various other items from my pocket a dozen times a day.

So I’ve told myself that if I haven’t even lost that little piece of plastic, I’ll never lose anything.

 Random valley between the mountains.

Well, in Carisolo I was packing my bags after eating dinner, and noticed that my towel wasn’t in the pannier it’s normally in. I mentally traced my steps back to the shower I’d had the previous afternoon at a camping ground, but I was sure I took it with me from there. Afterwards I’d dried it on the back of a picnic table chair while eating, which is where I must’ve left it. A quick calculation of the odds of it still being there the following day, the amount of uphill required to check, as well as the price of towels, made me give up on seeing it again.

Weird, though. I never lose anything. Let alone a big fluffy highly visible towel on a picnic chair.

The next morning I continued from a forest camping spot to discover a campground called Fae 100 meters away from my tent. I nonchalantly rolled in to bargain for another shower, except with paper towels for drying this time. The receptionist said showers are only for overnight guests, but had a change of heart when he saw me walk out with the heavy steps of a man who had suffered losses and had really been looking forward to being clean again. Four euros would cover the use of the facilities, after all.

When I was handwashing my laundry, I noticed something in the bottom of my foldable sink. Oh yep, that's my phone.

 Crap.

I didn’t even bother taking it out of the water right away. The screen had cracked a few weeks earlier to the point where it had huge gaping holes in it, so I knew the entire device was already full of soapy water. So much for being careful with my stuff. The price of the shower shot up another couple hundred euros.

But never mind. I had 700 meters of climbing to Madonna di Campiglio, where I could maybe buy a new phone. With all my gear and no muscles it took most of the day. The sun was shining, but at least past 1000m the temperature wasn’t too hot. I still stopped what felt like every 50-100 meters to catch my breath. And I’m not talking about vertical meters. Countless passing road cyclists with their carbon bikes and spandex either waved encouragingly, or tried not to laugh at my struggles.

 Easy does it.

I got to Campiglio eventually. There was one shop with a selection of four phones, all of them mysteriously in the same price range. I used a bar’s wifi to research the options, and none of them seemed worth buying. Which meant that the next day I would have to go back down almost 1000m to Pinzolo, where there were more phone shops. That’s too much unnecessary up and down with the bike, but I could take a bus. And a bike rental mechanic promised to watch over my stuff the next day while I was gone. Great. It was time to find a campsite.

Except I realized I didn't have my glasses with me. Fucking hell, I lost those too? Yes, of course. I vividly recalled putting them on the windowsill of the bathroom of Fae camping to put on my contact lenses. I even remembered thinking “better not forget them there”.

 Ossana looking disapproving.

What the hell was happening to me? My mind was completely non-functional, it seemed. My vision is -4.00, and the contacts are dailies, so there was not much choice but to roll back down the mountain I just spent all day climbing. Which took about 10 minutes in the other direction. At least my glasses were still there on the windowsill.

I ended up back in the same forest spot where I stayed the previous night. No progress was made, and I was minus one phone.

This was not a good day.

 This is pretty much what everything looks like in the Alps.

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