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.
cting 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 ...