You made my day

Day 15, Vercelli to Robbio, 20 km

Day 16, Robbio to Mortara, 16 km

Day 17, Mortara to Madonna-della-Bazzola, 19 km (Liz started walking again here)

Day 18, Madonna-della-Bazzola to Pavia, 27 km

Day 19, Pavia to Santa-Cristina, 28 km

Day 20, Santa-Christina to Orio Litta, 17 km

Day 21, Orio Litta to Piacenza, 22 km (including 4 km by ferry)

Day 22, Piacenza to Fiorenzula-d'Arda, 25 km

Day 23, Fiorenzula-d'Arda to Fidenza, 23 km

So.... I am officially back on board!! Thank you all for the kind concern and foot healing tips! I never thought I would miss walking but after 3 days of Nick going it alone out in the rice fields I was bored out of my brain, and itching to get into my new sneakers and back on track. I must be sick.

I went to a doctor (a real one this time) who told me my toes weren't going to drop off, but that I should consider new footwear. My new hiking shoes are much more flexible, airy and suited to this walk, and all the bad foot stuff has been sorted or is on its way out (fingers crossed).

(Still life: Hiker tying shoes in rice field)

Choosing this walk, Nick and I knew we were opting for a road far less travelled (sorry Mr Frost) than it's Spanish cousin- the Camino Santiago. But I think we were unaware how un-frequented this path still is. Since we started three weeks ago we have met only 16 other pilgrims. I also think I saw three others in a resturant one night (they looked tired and dirty and were eating alot) but Nick says that doesn't count.Most are starting and ending at different points, some are heading in the opposite direction. 

We've only met one other person also walking from St Bernard to Rome as we are- Gilbert, a lovely retired Frenchman and seasoned Camino walker, who we've also walked a few days with.  The day I resumed, we took an alternate route to our guidebook. Gilbert was about an hour ahead of us and where the signs had disappeared or were unclear he drew a big arrow and a 'G' in the dirt to help us find our way. What a legend!

(Gilbert and I squinting into the wind on the speedboat ferry across the River Po.)

We don't see many other pilgrims, so it's really the local people we meet on the road, throughout the long hot days, and the humid rainy ones, which make the journey for us. We greet all passers-by with a 'buon giorno' or 'salve'. Some stop to have a chat, ask where we're from, and where we are walking to. One white haired old fella burst into hysterical laughter when we told him we were walking to Rome. Others look confused, or like we're mad, or they haven't heard us properly. 

But most are supportive. Many say 'complementi', 'bravi' or 'buon camina' (have a good walk). Early yesterday outside a church, a man walking with his down-syndrome teenage son recognised that we were pilgrims and was so overcome all he could think to say was 'buon tutti'- i.e. 'have a good everything!'

Later that day a group of men, outside another church, were so excited to meet people on the Via Francigena that they had their photo taken with us. This morning, outside a fruit shop, we met a lady who had walked the road last year. She asked us to think of her while we walked, and said she would do the same when she walks the Camino Santiago later this year.

It's very pleasant, and somehow comforting, to realise that you will become an anecdote, or part of the day that people will describe to their family and friends, probably round a dinner table, or with mates at the bar: "Hey, you'll never guess who I met today- two Australians, walking to ROME!"  When you travel like this, you become an event in some small way, to the people you meet. And in reverse, the people we meet become an event for us.

(This little dude, painted and stuck on poles, trees, bridges etc is the MOST helpful.)

Some people will stay with us I think. Like Carlo, a retired mechanic who rode up to us on his Italian coloured bike as we walked into his town Tromello.  He is an official pilgrim ambassador: a local guy in one of the towns en route, who provides advice and a welcome to pilgrims. He offered us a drink and a sit down and gave us some tips on the second half of the days walk and where to stay in the next town. 

Yesterday we met possibly the most beautiful man (both inside and out) that exists (and I think Nick has a boy-crush on). Massimo is just a regular dude, a secondary school teacher, that knows his house is on the route, and has put a sign up to welcome in travellers and offer them hospitality.  He came out of his quiet country house and offered as some coffee, beer and food. We talked about travel, his dog Mimi, a bit of politics, school holidays, and just...stuff. 

(Carlo and his bike. Italian colours with Via Francigena stickers)

Every few days Nick will say something like "now we are entering the region of friendly farmers" or "people here are way more chatty" or "wow, this town is happy!" But perhaps it's not that people are getting more friendly, happy or chatty, but as we are getting more relaxed and comfortable in our walking, we are becoming more open to them. 

(View from an Italian autopass. Note guys in white ute waving to us. We thought the people in the multi-kilometre traffic jam were the suckers, but they probably thought the same about us.)