the day I left Lisbon

I left Lisbon at 6am. the streets were deserted, my heavy treads on the cobbles disturbing a few sleepy birds. it was a cold dawn, clouds clustering the sky all grey and dark as if fearing to rain. scuttling by old tiled mansions, cracked and worn. dirty laundry flapping, dogs barked, single cars sped by in a hurry.  the port came first: heading out of major cities on foot you always hit the industrial unloved. lonely people waiting for lonely buses. old ice cream papers & cigarette butts. a train hooting the day. asphalt paths by graffitied walls. then to the sea, or the low marsh that it was. a casino, straight paths, a striding bridge across the water, straddling the horizon. the walkways were clear, casinos gambling on nightlife, not investing in dawn. sombre schools, kids laughing as if dared. worn parents, big cars, long roads. bursting out of a fine installation on a shiny seafront, four pilgrims appeared. bubbled and wrapped in glistening new gear, heavy laughs disturbing the dark tranquil morning. I hurried on, wishing to avoid. roads & traffic, still leaving the city. roadworks by roundabouts; queues heavy with frustration. the path was unclear, churned JCB's.  the four pilgrims again, yelling and waving as they turned onto the highway. I followed, reluctantly, turning back soon again. my instincts prevailed & the path appeared & then the country was there. huge and wide and green, the path littered by red poppies, purple thistles, yellow dandelions & more. a river hustled by, banks broken by tall wind-struck reeds. softer gardens appeared, remote dogs barking under clusters of hills. a blistered shepherd in jeans, almost embarrassed by his sheep. the path was dry, cracked grey mud surrounded by green: bursting, vibrant, alive.  a mistake, not easily solved - I'd avoided cafes for the first 2-hrs only to find that they subsequently avoided me.  I had 1.5 litres of chemically flavoured water and that was it, and I was starving. I stopped to sip and to vacate but then ... heavy laughs killed the fragile peace. three pilgrims, of the four, strode up the path as I struggled mid-stream. luckily no spillage evidenced my urgent rustlings and they passed on, noisily. I waited awhile, then after I went.   there in this land of old empire were solitary bricked walls, fine red houses with windows boarded & their tales never told.  paths in and out of hedgerows, by rivers, over streams, past huge estates dominating hills.  I moved in their shadows, where the life was.  then back into suburbs, treading the paved, a cafe at last. sweet juice, sour coffee & then braving the heat. my feet were like stones, heaving them forward, nails with squashed nerves. yelling stumbled rocks.  the pilgrims again, pleasantries exchanged, avoidance deep and planned. then into marshland where a wooden pathway was built. an hour of birds: of swallows and ducks and cries on dry wind. a white hat in the reeds like a new-fashioned nest. then to a train, the start of the town & my hunt for a bed. So it was, the day I left Lisbon.  

finding the Eternal City

it seems strange to be now sitting in my flat in Sydney writing about the last 2 days on the Via Francigena. in some ways it seems a long time ago but when i think back to a day, a moment, or a brief pleasure, it comes flooding back and i'm standing there with it all before me and the old feelings hit me like a tsunami. i felt more truely alive and vibrant than i've felt in a long, long time and its stayed with me since i finished and i hope it stays longer ...

but i digress. i'd been caught out in Capranica where there was no accommodation and had to march another 6km late on a Sunday afternoon to Sutri. Sutrium was an important town in Roman times and was built on a type of rock made out of consolidated volcanic ash ejected from vents during a volcanic eruption. it was small town that i staggered into late in the day, pissed off and angry. it was tiny but had a lovely feeling about it and amazingly the local tourist information was open so i went in and within a very short period of time i had accommodation sorted, had had a shower and sat in the local piazza having a beer whilst the sun set behind a bell tower. the next day was my penultimate on the VF and i did feel a bit melancholy. vso much had happened and i'd been through so much hardship and pain that it didn't seem possible that it soon would end. in some ways i didn't want it to end. the sense of freedom, the sheer beauty of the landscape, the feeling of accomplishment and a settling down inside myself of everything that i knew to be important but that somehow gets lost in everyday living were all mixed up and churning inside me. what had i learnt? patience. fortitude. perseverance. a deep sense of wonder and validation of everything that i'd had to overcome in order to get there, including my own doubts and the sheer pain of it all.

waking up early i went out to see the local amphitheatre dug out of volcanic stone before heading off down the Via Cassia and a diversion into the countryside. from this point in all roads really would lead to Rome but i wanted to stay off the major ones and keep to the smaller tracks and pathways in the countryside. my path this day was due to take me by the side of another volcanic crater called Lake Bracciano formed over 600,000 years ago (the main magma chamber was directly under the present lake) and the lake itself has 57km of black sandy shores. its about 160kms deep and provides the drinking water for Rome being one of the cleanest lakes in Italy with severe restrictions preventing pollution. the first part of my day was in fairly uniform countryside with near-prefect trekking weather. at a town called Monterosi i started ascending up and up and up before seeing Lake Bracciano appear on my right. being such a large lake it took me ages to walk around until i actually hit shoreline and on the way i managed to get lost in a field, was chased by horses and at one point fell flat on my back waving my hands and legs in the air like a stranded tortoise. the shores of the lake went on and on and on and even though i was tired and my feet were aching there was nowhere i could kick off my boots and put my feet in the water. it was either private property, too high up, infested with reeds or too far away (when the path swung inland). the town i was aiming for, Anguillara Sabazia, was only a short distance so i estimated i'd be there by 12pm but by 2pm i was still ages away. i eventually i got there about 3.30pm but was so knackered that when i got a beer and sat on the edge of the lake i actually fell asleep. waking up i was stunned by the beauty of the place and bearing in mind that this was my last night on the VF i never expected that i'd end up somewhere so special. the town itself was perched on the edge of a small cliff and looked out over to the edge of the crater on the other side. i'd arrived in lateish afternoon and the sun was still shining but then huge rolling swathes of mist clouded in one one side bringing cracks of thunder and forks of lightning. i had to rush to find a room and thankfully lucked-out again by stumbling across a delightful B&B with a view over the crater and the most lovely people running it together with a great restaurant next door. it all worked rather too well and i felt incredibly happy that my last true night on the VF had been such a one to remember. Rome was now less than 30km away and when i awoke in the morning it was with a sad/happy feeling. where had the time gone? it seemed only 5 minutes before that i'd started and now here i was on the last day.

And the last day was all roads. i had to get to a town called La Storta about half way and then by about 2pm i'd be in Rome itself. it was exciting to leave and start the day. each step, each minute, each small hour that fell by i kept thinking 'this is the last time you'll see 8'o'clock, this last time you'll see 9'o'clock, the last time you'll see 10'o'clock.' it was as if i couldn't quite believe it and had to keep repeating it to myself to make it seem true. the weather on my last day decided to test me and rather strangely as i'd only been thinking the day before that of all the types of weather i'd experienced that there hadn't been much wind, huge gusts swept the skies followed by black clouds. it only rained once before i got to La Storta and i sat in cafe drinking coffee i nearly leapt from my seat in fright when a powerful crack of thunder ripped the sky open right overhead. great. last day: huge thunderstorm.

i set off quickly hoping to avoid the worst of it but i wasn't so lucky. the VF path went up the side of one-way roads towards Rome but the traffic was coming towards me. the path gently ascended as i walked and the skies just opened and chucked it down. it was torrential. of course the cars coming in my direction were still speeding along so as well as the rain i had tidal waves of water splashing me from the road and i had to try and hide behind trees before nipping out, running on and trying to hide again whilst all the while the rain was thundering down and the road turned into a river. from the waist down i was soaked and i became so desperate i stepped into the road to direct the traffic away from me. ridiculous now when i look back but to my credit it did actually work. i guess a strange figure leading out in the road dripping wet, covered in plastic and waving sticks would make anyone change lanes. the storm lasted the best part of an hour and by the time it died away around 12pm i was in the outer suburbs of Rome. i stopped for some lunch figuring that i wanted some good food and wine to celebrate my entry into the city and then walked the last hour through the major arteries until i emerged into a park on top of a hill and there before me, spread out in all its glory was Rome: the eternal city. it'd taken me 37 days and over 1000km to get there. i'd trekked over mountains, down into valleys, over hills, by lakes, on the side of volcanoes, through cities, small towns, smaller villages, had been caught in the blazing hot sun, rained on, got lost countless times and nearly given up and yet persevered. i stood on the hill and looked at Rome and the moment burnt and seared itself inside me. its been a life-changing journey i'll never, ever forget.

Days of Rage and Awe

the night was quiet at Radicofani: i heard a few crashes but as Marissa and John were in another dorm it didn't disturb me too much. the next day i headed off into a chill morning: not so much due to being so high up in the mountains but i guess mainly as Autumn was drawing in. the day went quickly as the path didn't take the extremes of mountain-valley-mountain-valley but instead seemed to wander along the tops of the highest mountains taking the higher paths inbetween. after the previous days huge climb it was really something i appreciated and i saw some great views, including when i turned back and saw the castle sitting on top of Radicofani which was so far back that i could hardly believe i'd walked the distance i had in just a few hours. the main part of afternoon was through forests and up then up again (why so many recent ascents in the late afternoon? its a killer!) into a town called Acquapendentre. this was quite a major town on the VF in its day but my initial impressions weren't good. it felt closed in, dirty and unwelcoming. sure i'd seen many other small towns with narrow streets on overcast days but the very feel of the place didn't inspire me. after my 2 days of successes with church accommodation i decided to try for a third time but luck had deserted me. it was in a run down area by a run down chuch and was filthy, dilapidated and very unpleasant. the shower was cold and as i left it running (to see if it would warm up) i heard a cat outside the window so i let him in. he was SO cute: peachy-ginger-white and he let me stroke and cuddle him like i was his new best mate. i ran back to my flea-pit room to get my camera and by the time i got back the cat had wandered back outside onto the neighbouring roof so i leant out and got a picture. then i heard a sound of something slamming and as i turned round Marissa opened the bathroom door and stuck her head in. there was me standing in my underpants with a camera in my hand. it just didn't look good. we both looked at each other and it was one of theose moments when you think 'lets just both back away and ignore what's just happened shall we'. which is what we kinda did. how those 2 always got to the pilgrim accomodation before me i just don't know. not very enthusiastic about the town or my bed for the night i spent the afternooon and early evening reading and then happened to chance upon a Trattoria where i had the best meal i've had in Italy so far - completely by accident. if i said pecorino souffle with sweetened soaked figs you might get my drift. i was in foodie heaven - completely transported to a paradise of gastronomic delight. so full i could hardly move i half staggered, half limped back to the flea-pit to get some sleep. the morning dawned and as i was paranoid about bed-bugs i was relieved to find i hadn't been bitten. this next day was only a 22km trek to a town on the edge of a volcanic crater called Bolsena and even though the sky was still overcast and threatening to chuck it down it actually held off and then cleared completely leaving me with superb views over a lake that gradually appeared on my right the further on i walked. i got to Bolsena relatively early for me, about 1pm, and found it to be quite a popular tourist destination which luckily was quiet at this time of year. like Lake Viverone back at the start of my trip it had a serene calmness to it with a wonderful light and immense clouds building up and reflecting off the silky water. i stayed there reading for a couple of hours before heading back to the hotel for a long hot shower to get rid of the flea-pit feeling from the night before and did some washing, actually watched some BBC news on Sky (i feel so divorced from what's happening in the world right now) and went to bed very early as i had to look forward to a 32km trek the next day, and a 36km the day after. now this next day was a Saturday and already my suspicions were aroused as on the last 2 Saturdays i'd managed to get lost in forests on 2 separate mountains. when i checked my route towards a city called Viterbo i found that there was no forest on any mountain so i felt reassured that i would be ok. my stupidity in assuming that fact came back and bit me hard later. the morning was fantastic: there was lots of walking through fields and minor pathways all along the edge of the volcanic crater. the mountains had declined (i guess the volcano exploding had levelled the landscape) and i was more walking up and over gentle rolling hills which made things a lot easier and more bearable, especially as it had become quite hot again. i also found a small stretch of an original Roman road which really was quite special. you've got to say about the Romans that they did know how to build things so they'd last and if the roads hadn't been dug up or the stones stolen then i'm damn sure that many of their roads would still be in use today. it was a great morning especially as the VF signage was clear and i didn't get lost once. until i reached by half-way point in the day which was a town called Montefiascone , on top of a bloody mountain. Saturday. Mountain. i should have known. the problem wasn't so much getting into the city it was bloody finding my way out again. the VF signs disappeared, my guidebook was useless and i went up and down numerous alleyways, roads and pathways with no bloody idea which exit i should take. i wanted to avoid walking along a major road called the Via Cassia which goes straight to Rome but which is a major highway like the SS26 back (again) at the start of my trip. i found the local tourist information office but the guy there knew nothing. Nothing!!! and he pretended he did know something by sending me the wrong bloody way- right onto the Via Cassia!!! i was in such a foul mood i cannot tell you - the whole afternoon i spent walking on a bloody bastard major highway with no turnoffs and it was just indeterminable. i arrived at Viterbo about 4.30pm as fit to drop as if i'd walked 10 Parramatta Roads which i probably had (it's a Sydney reference, mentioned before!). i was so tired that i just slumped in a chair at a cafe and tried to think about how to get accomodation but i just couldn't think properly. it took me an hour to get myself togther and that night i couldn't even order food from a menu i was given: i was that exhausted. i slept the sleep of the dead and woke feeling a little more alive which was lucky was it turned out as i had more bad luck that day. as it was Sunday all the Italians disappeared to god-knows-where and i did lots more country walking, some on the Via Cassia, but most in-amongst dense forest and it was a very reasonable day. i covered the 36km quite quickly and got to Capranica about 3.30pm which was an hour earlier than i'd thought so i was very pleased with myself and settled down, had a beer and then started to look for accomodation. to my horror i found there was none: not a hotel, a pensione or a B&B despite what my guidebook said. this was a minor mountain town so it wasn't huge and i covered every street, every cafe, every bar to no avail. i kinda realised there was no hope so at 5pm on a Sunday afternoon i had to sling my pack on my back once again and walk another 6km along the Via Cassia to a town called Sutri. i swore, cursed and literally howled my way down that road as i could just not believe my bad luck or my bloody awful bad guidebook. looking back i can at least say that this was the first and only day it'd happened to me whereas on the Camino de Santiago it was an occupational hazard: you'd get somewhere only to find the accomodation was full so you'd have to go to the next town. the VF being much less travelled i'd kinda forgotten that this was a possibility but luckily it all worked out as Sutri turned out to be one of the nicest places i've stayed in so far ...

Fields of Cobwebs & Thistles, Valleys of Magic & Mist

i loved Siena. its full of statues of Romus and Remus everywhere being suckled by the she-wolf as allegedly the town was founded by Senius, the son of Remus and the Piazza Campo has to be one of the most stunning city centres i think i've ever seen. they have a bi-annual horse race inside it, thats how big it is. Strangely the afternoon i arrived i could hear singing in the streets and when i went to investigate i found that it was the celebration for the town that had won in August and there was a big feast going on that night. i got a cheap room and spent a couple of hours wandering around but didn't see any of the celebration as i had my own feast of pizza and gelato and hit the sack early. i think i now have restless legs as Sunday was meant to be my rest day (my last rest day before Rome) but i couldn't sit still and ended walking around the whole city. its really stunningly beautiful - architecture, dress, food. its got it all. Monday dawned rather too quickly for my liking and i headed out of the city rather mournful as a few more days there would have done me nicely. still, i only had 25km to do this first day back on the road. the weather was a bit overcast but as i walked i had some really great views back over Siena, perched on top of a mountain. this whole area is volcanic and sometimes you do wonder where the volcanoes are. i mean most are dormant but there are loads of thermal springs in the area and the rolling mountains and hills clearly show the impact of considerable geological change over a long period of time: there's just an awful lot of mountains and hills. i'd rained quite a lot over the wknd and as autumn is now in full swing a lot of the crops have been harvested. i'd already passed a considerable number of tractors ploughing away in weeks past, as well as lorries full of tomatoes, trucks full of grapes and bales of hay everywhere. the landscape here right now is a mixture of bright green and dense brown fields, predominantly brown due to all the harvesting. so what with the rain and the lack of vegetation i ended up walking through fields of mud. it wasn't the kind of mud that just slips off. this mud seemed to stick like glue and every step i took i accumlated more. in the end i felt like i was walking on stilts and as if my feet were covered in clay (which i guess they were). it didn't help when the skies opened, the rain started and i was stuck in the middle of not just a ploughed field but a series of ploughed hills. with the accumulated mud on my feet i was slipping and sliding everywhere as i had no traction. thank god for my trekking poles - they saved me diving head first into some very sticky mudpools. i then found i had to navigate down a particularly slippy slope (it was like trying to iceskate through a mud pit) only to find i had gone the wrong way and then had to grapple my way back up again. the benefit of the rain was that the day was a relaxed one (despite oodles of mud) and i passed through field of dead sunflowers, heads bent like sad little soldiers. i kept thinking how glorious they would have looked in summer but it didn't take away from how mournful they looked right at that moment. that night i stayed in a one-street village called Ponte d'Arbia where i was the only person staying in the pilgrim accomodation - a huge, dusty, derilict residence with echoing halls and lots of closed doors with broken furniture inside. what with that and the wind and rain outside it gave me the fear and i had to lock the door and leave the lights on in the hallway. yep, i'm a wuss but really it was a bit spooky and i didn't like it at all. the next morning was one of the most amazing i've had on my journey so far. i'd gotten up early and as i left the sun had just come up and there was a very light mist covering everything. i passed by flat fields full of thistles covered in cobwebs and as it was so early the morning dew lit the cobwebs up like silver. each blade of grass also had its own little drop of dew so the fields looked like they were made of green-white glass, sparkling away. it was a magical effect helped by the clouds of heavy rolling mist that suddenly appeared as if from nowhere: one minute i was walking in the intense bright sun of the early morning and the next i couldn't see 5 yards ahead. the mountains surrounding me kind of appeared and disappeared as the mist and cloud rolled in and over and then off somewhere else. the moon was still high in the sky and the day seemed mystical somehow. it looked cold, yet was warm and hot. the sun blazed and yet there were clouds everywhere. some fields were the brightest green you've ever seen; others just churned dark earth and then when i turned a corner it was almost a desert-mountain landscape with light dry hills & just one Tuscan farmhouse perched on top with maybe a single conifer standing tall and straight. it was an unusual, mesmerising day and i must admit to being quite entranced by the volcanic landscape. the day did, however, end with quite a steep ascent to a town called San Quirico d'Orcia. by the time i arrived i was fit to drop and then couldn't find a room so in desperation went to the church. the priest there, Giovanni, was the nicest guy you've ever met in your life and the accomodation was better than a hotel. 2 other pilgrims were there (Marissa and John. he was 77, she 73. there's a lot of pensioners doing this trip so i'm never, ever complaining of pain again!) and i had a lovely hot shower and a beer. Giovanni was so friendly he even invited me to supper with Massimo, an italian grape-picker, and Raphael (a brazilian student). my god they could eat - i was fit to drop by course 6 and then Giovanni had the bright idea of going to a thermal spring in the middle of the countryside at 11pm ! luckily some priestly business distracted him (a knock on the door from a local) and i was able to get to bed without much difficultly. the night presented more of a problem as Marissa and John got up quite a few times (we were in a shared dorm with bunkbeds) and proceeded to bump and crash into the doors, the wall, the toilet, the bunkbed ladders and the washing line. by the time the morning arrived i half expected to find them both strewn across the floor unconscious. i left after saying a big thank you to Giovanni - i think one of the nicest priests i've ever met & the town itself was pretty lovely too. the thing about mountain towns is that firstly you have to climb up to get to them and secondly that you have to climb down again. the third problem can also sometimes be that after doing that you have to do it again as your next destination is also a mountain town. however thats the negative side. the positive side is that i saw one of the most awe-inspiring things i think i've ever witnessed. i walked down the hill from San Quirico and the sun was up and shining with a lazy early-morning lemony light but because were so high up we were above most of the surrounding valleys that were filled with a white-blue-amber mist. it was as if the valleys were lakes and the mountain tops were islands and i stood on the crescent of the path as it curved around the mountain and just stood there watching the light gently play on the mist and the mist gently play in the valleys. it touched the very core of me so unexpectedly that i found it hard to focus on what i was seeing and then when i eventally began walking again i walked down and into the mist and the only way i can describe the essence of what i was feeling was that it was like walking down and across into another world. the whole scene is imprinted upon me - i can see it as i write - and i hope, i hope it stays with me for the whole of my life. its not something i ever want to forget. the rest of the day was, naturally, very different. once the mist had cleared i was back on a quiet but major road in the middle of a hot day for long, long stretches with no towns and just big chunky fields of brown earth on either side. it was never ending and finished with an 10km ascent of about 700 meters that took me 3 hours to climb before i hit Radicofani (sounds rude to me!) about 3pm absolutely knackered. after my good luck with the church yesterday i tried the same again today and met Morena, the local granny who looks after the pilgrim accomodation. she must have been in her 70's and she could hardly climb the stairs (nor could i), and she was huffling and puffing (me too) and then she had to sit on a chair for 10 mins once we got up top (as did i). obviously she realised i was a kindred spirit in all but age. We laughed, we cried, we hugged and danced the night away. ok slight exageration: she staggered down the stairs and i went for a shower. the accommodation was absolutely superb - i could hardly believe it. until i turned the corner and found Marissa and John snoring away - in bed.

The Unnecessary Mountain

Gambassi was ok in the end. i was pissed at no thermal spring and the hostel opening late but when it did the owner was friendly, the accomodation quite good and they had a great restaurant attached & it all refreshed me. my life is like 'Groundhog Day' right now as before i knew it i was up packing again at 6.45am, out the door by 7.15. a quick coffee and pastry and then hitting the road - or the field. i've been doing this for nearly a month now and its become my life. the reality of life in Sydney will be surreal when i get back to it as this seems to be a better way of living: just a few possessions, no worries except food and a bed for the night. most of the day spent in the most beautiful countryside (when not on major roads). of course its just an illusion - the weather is warm, not cold. i have enough money to fund myself for 6 weeks and really its an indulgence. i may complain about pain or hardship or the frustrations of getting lost but compared to what other people have to deal with in their lives its incredibly minor stuff. i'm a pampered middle-class male from a weathly country just doing a 5-wk trek. to be honest there's nothing remarkable or out of the ordinary about what i'm doing. most of human history was spent wandering from one place to another its just now we're become indulgent, indolent and used to sitting on the couch watching TV. is that a life? i don't really have any answers but these are some of the questions that go through my head the days i spend walking and i do wonder how divorced we are from the world around us and how much we end up missing jut consumed with the complexities of modern life. forgive my digression - i've got no-one to talk to so i talk to myself via this blog!

leaving Gambassi i headed straight into the countryside and had a good few hours of solid walking before hitting a town i'd never heard of: San Gimignano. its famous for having 14 out of an original 72 towers intact and in the morning mist, as its outline appeared over the tops of trees, it looked like a modern city skyline with skyscrapers - but in the middle of the Tuscan countryside. the VF took me round a few hills, up and down a few minor mountains and then another big circuit before i found myself climbing into the main piazza. being so well known and famous meant that i had to beat away the hordes of tourists that ganged up in every available space and after the most delicious mid-morning break of coffee, OJ, a lovely mozzarella& tomato sandwich and wildberry tart i staggered off very happy indeed. i wasn't happy for long: the VF signage stopped as soon as i left the city & i took the road to Siena thinking that was kinda in the right direction but it wasn't. i should (in retrospect) have taken one of the more minor roads. typical that the VF signers think you should possess psychic powers. the rest of the day was less pleasant than the first simply as i had to walk a mixture of major and minor roads before getting to Colle Val d'Elsa which was my destination for the night. i got a hotel after searching for an hour but i didn't warm to the place at all. the old part was settled but dull and the major part of town seemed to consist of newish housing estates. for me it was just a chance to sleep and then go. the next day my destination was Siena and most of the walk was through the Tuscan countryside and then a day off so i was really looking forward to it. it'd rained during the night so everything was covered in dew and the early light made everything seem new and fresh and clean. i was in really good spirits - my leg was good, i had lots of energy and the route ahead seemed like it was going to be spectacular. the mistake came early. i came to a fork in the path with no signage. there was a house in front with a guy who spoke very good english and he told me to take the left fork saying that this was the old VF route. this was at about 10am. the path lead straight up, into & over a forest-covered mountain. needless to say it was the wrong way. 3-4 hours later after going up, down, around, in, out and sideways with absolutely no idea where i was or where i was going i ended up back were i'd gone wrong. the whole day wasted. i reckoned i'd walked 15-20km in circles - my single worst day of things going wrong. usually i'd be able to get back on track fairly quickly or get someone to help but it was now 2pm and i was still 12km from Siena. i know that getting lost and finding your way back is part of the Camino - it tests you. it tests your resources, your determination, your stamina and endurance. it tests you physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually but this was one test too far. after calculating how far i'd walked that day already (& knowing i should have been in Siena already) i thought 'sod it' and got on the bus. 20 minutes later i was in the city centre & an hour later i had a bed and food. in some ways i was disappointed in myself but i i also know that sometimes you have to recognise when things aren't going your way. 95% of the time i won't compromise but there are sometimes (as in the blizzard that started on top of the Grant St Bernard Pass when i was due to start the Camino) where you have to regroup, rethink and replan. i have to keep reminding myself that this is not a contest, its not an endurance test (even though it is very tough) and its not something that anyone judges me on. the hardest judge i have is me and sometimes i have to take it a little easier and relax my self imposed rules. the Unecessary Mountain was a lesson i needed to learn so lesson over: its time for bed.

days of blazing sun

Lucca was founded by the Etruscans and became a Roman colony in about 180 BC. the mediaeval walls around the city remain intact (which is unusual in this region) and they encircle the old part of the town where most of the historical sights are situated. i had some slight luck at the end of a hard day as the tourist office was just inside the part of the wall where i'd arrived & they quickly found me a B&B around the corner so off i limped. it wasn't until i arrived i realised that my underpants were hanging out to dry on the side of my pac and i must have passed about 50 tourists on the way. i've decided i have no dignity left at all. the woman who owned the B&B intially seemed quite lovely but when i asked if i could have breakfast early due to leaving at 7.30am and breakfast not being served until 8 things got tetchy:
'please can i have breakfast early?'
'Not possible.'
'I'm a pilgrim and have to get up to start walking at 7am.'
'No.'
'it would really help me out.'
'No.'
'Please.'
'No.'
i hate you, i hate your family, i hate your dog, your hotel and everyone you have ever met. I am Mr Hate from Hate City in the Land of Hate and if i don't burn your hotel down you'll be very lucky indeed
Such charitable thoughts were going through my mind after 9hrs trekking. i gave up and sculked off to my bright green room in a very grumpy mood indeed. ah well, brekkie would have to be the normal coffee and pastry costing 2 euros from the local cafe. big deal luv!
a little while later i went out to explore Lucca which i may say is a delightful city. there were 2 slightly annoying things about it though: first the tourists who were everywhere in huge packs and who wouldn't move for love or money. all they did was stand and stare and get in my way! (as you can see my mood was still on the grumpy side of things!). the second thing i didn't like about Lucca was that it was full of some of the best shops i've seen in a very long time. i mean wherever you go Italy is good for shopping but this was exceptional and, of course, i couldn't buy any of it as i'd have to carry whatever i'd bought - it was so frustrating! i had to bat away the buying bug and just go looking at the sights, which were pretty amazing. Lucca seems to have so much character and life as well as great elegance and history. i fell in love with the place, especially after the most amazing pasta funghi, salad caprisi and some exceptionally delish vino bianco. i burped my way back into bed feeling somewhat tired after all the trekking and then another 3 hours sightseeing. the next day came round so quickly i could hardly believe it and left Lucca after having a quick walk along the mediaeval walls feeling, once again, a little sad that i couldn't stay longer but i only had one more rest day to use and i was saving that for Siena. this day proved not to be a good one. i think i was just exhausted from the day before and the day seemed to drag on and on and on, most on roads which is never enjoyable and my leg was throbbing like a dead weight. i chewed on paracetamol most of the day and that got me through but it wasn't pleasant. even, as often happens, the end of the day was better that the start as i ended up in a one-street town called Ponte a Cappiano which really was just a bridge over a river built by the Medici's in the 1530's. the hostel i was staying at was huge and actually inside the tower over the river. it helped that i was the only one there - so i had it all to myself for the night. i went to bed really early to catch up on some rest and the next day felt a lot, lot better which was great considering the day that was to come. even my leg had calmed down - the redness and inflammation were both improved and the pain was much less. i was worried when i'd gone to bed as this day (out of all the days on the Camino) was due to be the longest - i had to cover 37km which was the most of any day on my schedule (this was the planned route anyway as other days i'm sure i'd done 37km or more but that was usually when i'd got lost). one good thing was that my destination was a place called Gambassi Therme where there were thermal springs so i consoled myself with the thought of a long trekking day followed by a nice long soak. it was a beautiful start to the day walking through the Tuscan countryside, heading to a hilltown called San Minato that was meant to have some stunning views. Thomas the german cyclist i'd met 2 weeks before was working near there and we'd texted so i was due to meet him at 10am. the first couple of hours are usually for me when i have the most energy and with a morning of beautiful views, amazing scenery and clean fresh air it was just fantastic. Thomas and i bumped into each other in the main street both having arrived 2 minutes earlier so we had a coffee and caught up. he'd gone to do voluntary work at some vineyards but they were ripping off volunteers so he had upped and left and gone to stay with an 83-yr old German artist he knew who was living in the area (strangely i seem to be meeting quite a lot of 83-yr olds this trip). we exhanged travelling tales, i met the artist, we talked a little more and then i was off. it was great seeing Thomas but i'd then lost an hour's walking and at this rate i knew i wouldn't get to Gambassi until 4pm and the day was getting very, very hot. it was also one of those annoying times when my guidebook wasn't clear and the signage disappeared at a crucial point so instead of walking along country paths i ended up on rather busy roads but with no-one to ask and no signs to tell me how to get back on track. eventually, about 2pm, when i was ready to drop, i stumbled across a workers cafe right in the middle of a 3-house 'village' and the cafe owner (who spoke good english) said 'yes people always get lost around here. we see many pilgrims.' somehow that didn't make me feel any better but after fuelling up and with the knowledge that i had another 12km to go (3 hours!), i set off. the rest of the day wasn't pretty: busy roads, blazing hot sun and a very tired, weary and demoralised me. about an hour and half into it i hit a wall: i really was running on empty and felt like i just couldn't go on. except of course that i had to go on, i had no choice. even now i don't know how i did it. probably the fact that i seem to have been there many times before when i feel like i've reached the limits of my endurance and yet have to carry on. it sounds and feels familar these days! i sang, swore, yelled at the cars, barked back at the dogs who were barking at me and somehow, somehow got to the outskirts of Gambassi. only to be faced with a road that went up at a 70 degree angle and a sign that said '6km'.

i could have cried but instead threw myself inside a bar at the bottom of the road attached to a petrol station (although it did occur to me that having a bar and petrol station together probably wouldn't be allowed in other countries) and had a bloody big beer. this broke my rule as i never drink when trekking - only generally do i touch alcohol once i get to my destination but i had no chance in hell of getting up that road otherwise and you know what - it did the trick. all pain was anaesthetised, i got some energy and determination back and off i marched and at 4.30pm i literally staggered into the square of Gambassi thinking my last breath had come. of course it hadn't as i now had to find accomodation which i did quite easily at the local tourist office except that it wasn't open until 6pm so i decided to go and get my treat: a thermal bath. imagine my face when i was told that the thermal baths open only at 8am: they aren't open at night. justice: it bloody well doesn't exist !!!!

sinking into Tuscany

so there i was walking through the Village of Silent Cats again but this time there were no cats to be seen anywhere. 3 villagers were wandering around looking at me very suspiciously but there were no cats to be seen at all. despite knowing it was all a little weird and crazy i did feel a little uneasy. maybe it was the mist, the quiet, the feeling of being somewhere that you don't know and can't get a handle on. whatever it was i could see why 1,000 myths and fairytales had grown in this region: the feeling of the land, of the mountains and the mist created mystery and illusion.
but now 2 hours behind schedule i tried to go a little faster as i still needed to be in Sarzana by 2pm but it was tough going with steep ascents and steeper descents. it didn't rain again but that didn't matter as the humidity was so high i was dripping with sweat. the trees were packed together tightly and the edge of the path ran next to steep slopes falling away sharply onto rocks and streams of mud. it took a long time before i got to the next village desperate for a coffee and a rest but the cafe was chusio (closed) and i was late. i managed a banana and some yoghurt hunkered down in a doorway before heading off on the last 10km into the town. best of all i was semi-on time. just as i hit the outskirst of Sarzana i ran into Jules again and 10 minutes later the city centre - where almost immediately Sasha turned up on his bike. at this point it was a quick goodbye to Jules and big hello to Sasha. it must have been about 3 years since i'd seen him but he looked exactly the same - blue t-shirt, blue eyes and a big smile. after 2 weeks cycling from Rome to Florence he seemed in pretty good shape and had had some great adventures. we had a quick beer, did some shopping in the monthly French Market and headed off to to the farmhouse he'd booked. Sasha having his finger on the pulse of modern techonology had brought an ipad with him that had a Google Map & GPS system attached. he regaled me with the tales of all the times he'd used it bicycling around Italy and quickly established our position in relation to where to we needed to go: 'its just around the corner'. 8 corners later my feet were killing me but the farmhouse appeared and it was lovely: villaesque with a restaurant (being used for a wedding that weekend), swimming pool and separate accomodation. we booked in, settled down, caught up, ate, drank and then collapsed into our beds. the next morning the sense of relief i had not having to get up and start walking at 7am was amazing. it also helped that i'd persuaded the lady at reception to wash all my clothes in the washing machine so they were properly clean! i can't tell you how nice that felt (and smelt!). Sasha used his GPS to find the swimming pool and off we went and proceeded to spend a drunken day just lying down, chatting, eating, ipadding, exchanging travel stories and chatting with the odd drunken wedding guest. i should mention that the night before we were a little bit pissed and desperate for coffee so had nipped over to the pre-wedding meal that was going on and persuaded one of the waiters to make us a cappucino. the same waiter was on duty when we were lounging by the swimming pool and as it turned out that just last year he had walked the Camino de Santiago and then took off his shirt to show me the tattoo on his back (of a shell - the symbol of the CdS). Sasha was using the GPS to navigate from the swimming pool to the toilet and back whilst one of the very drunken wedding guests was telling me about his trip to Mykonos and all the lovely girls there. Yes, how very believable that he was straight and yet coming over to talk to 2 gay men but he did give us both a lemoncello before staggering back to the wedding. Sasha and i pigged out on french cheese, olives, some delicious bread and grapes whilst loving the view over the pool to the mountains: the clouds were sweeping up and over in all sorts of shapes and sizes and looked like they wee going to hit in a big storm but somehow seemed to veer off leaving us with a perfect day doing nothing except chill and relax which we did with expertise. very sadly the evening drew on all too quickly and, leaving Sasha using the GPS to go from the bedroom to the toilet, i hit the sack. the next morning it was a slightly sad farewell as the weekend had been great and now we were going on our separate ways and soon back to our separate countries and who knows when we would see each other again. this i find one of the more difficult things in life as i get older: the friends and family i have that live in the UK or elsewhere i never get to see so much of and i really feel it. i guess its the price you pay for living so far away. but anyway, Sasha used the GPS to take us down an overgrown path where we had to bend double and got soaked in dew from the overhanging reeds before finally reaching the main road. this was goodbye and i went one way as Sasha went the otherusing the GPS as a guide. i heard a crash but looking back seemed impolite.

this day was the start of my 4th week on the VF and it seemed at the start like it was going to be great but i was too confident and still needed to learnt the lessons i should have learnt many times before: the first of these being get rid of your expectations. the journey for the day was a long one of about 35km but it was all along the mediterranean sea. great - or so i thought. the first stage was amazing: after about 40 minutes along some fairly busy roads i hit the sea and walked onto beach littered with red and white deckchairs all laid out in a grid with the clear bright early sun freshening the morning and there behind were the Marble Mountains: backlit by the sun and an incredible view. it was definitely a Wow! moment. i had a coffee and croissant and then started walking along the beach and at first it was fine as i walked along the sand at the edge of the sea but eventually had to head slightly inland where there were promonades and minor roads. this whole area (apparantly made famous by Shelley in the days when it was an empty penninsula) had beach restaurants on one side and hotels on the other and i was inbetween. the distances were huge and as the day went on the scenery just became repetitive and boring. and never-ending. it got to 2pm and then 3pm and 4pm and i still was going: hot, tired and really not in a good mood. the small town of Piestrasanta eventually appeared and i arrived in the main square and found good accomodation pretty quickly. the town is famous for being adopted by local artists due to being so near all the marble and it really was a lovely town: full of little artist studios, statues everywhere and some lovely little cafes and restaurants. rather annoyingly my camera had broken (whilst i was taking a photo of a most amazing mushroom - i think i must be turning into a Mushroom Hunter!) so i lucked out and found the one little shop in town that could sell me another. the next day i was up early and off to the famous walled city of Lucca. this was another long day too and i was a bit worried as my leg had been playing up. blisters were no longer a problem: i still get them but my feet have become so hardened (or maybe now my tolerance of pain has increased) they no longer bother me. the new problem was that my left leg had become inflammed from just above the ankle to about mid-shin with a dull, aching pain. it was clearly inflammed from all the walking or from something biting me. whatever it was it hurt and with a long day ahead i was really quite anxious about how it would be. sometimes the Camino is strange and days can be the mirror opposite of each other. the previous day walking by the sea i had really looked forward to but it had disappointed me. this day, which i really was NOT looking forward to, turned out to be fantastic. there were a lot of mountains but i was walking through Tuscany and the scenery was just incredible. considering its late-September the air is clear, you can see for miles and miles and the smell of pine just suffuses everything. as soon as the classic confiers started appearing i had a grin on my face as wide as can be and it lasted the whole day. my leg actually was ok as well: it did start aching when i hit the outskirts of Lucca but on the whole there were no major worries. Lucca itself has a reputation of being one of the most beautiful cities in all of Italy due to having its old Medieaval walls still extant, as well as all the bell towers and shops and little narrow alleyways. it also had tourists, tourists and more tourists