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The Giro d’Italia has come home. After a Hungarian prelude, the peloton and its entourage made a long traverse south, down to the ball kicked by the Italian boot, to the slopes of Mount Etna.
What awaited there, on the east coast of Sicily, was an abundance of local atmosphere. Fading towns, gritty buildings, old people chainsmoking, young people staring at their smartphones and dreaming of a better future. The race went past them – past the graffiti and gelaterias, past the rust and rubble – and reeled in the hulking beast that is Etna. How often does a WorldTour race ride up an active volcano? About every time the Giro comes to Mount Etna, that’s how often.
Lennard Kämna (Bora-Hansgrohe) won the day from a breakaway group of 14 riders which was steadily whittled away. Juan Pedro López (Trek-Segafredo) moved into the maglia rosa. Ineos-Grenadiers were the fruitless Fellowship of Carapaz. Nobody fell into Mount Doom.
What we did get, though, was a ridiculously atmospheric day of racing. Through the lenses of the Grubers, here are the streetscapes and people of Sicily (with a little bit of bike racing thrown in for balance).
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