Sunday 27 July 2014

What a lark!

Day 32, Sarzana to Marina di Massa, 17 km
Day 33, Marina di Massa to Lucca, by train
Day 34, Rest day
Day 35, Lucca to Altopascio, 18 km
Day 36, Altopascio to San Miniato Basso, 24 km
Day 37, San Miniato Basso to Gambassi Terme, 25 km
Day 38, Gambassi Terme to San Gimignano, 14 km
Day 39, San Gimignano to Abbadia-di-Isola, 22 km
Day 40, Abbadia-di-Isola to Siena, 21 km
Day 41, Siena to Ponte d'Arbia, 28 km
Day 42, Ponte d'Arbia to San Quirico d'Orcia, 27 km
Day 43, San Quirico d'Orcia to Radicofani, 29 km
Day 44, Radicofani to Acquapendente, 26 km
Day 45, Acquapendente to Bolsena, 22 km
Day 46, Bolsena to Montefiascone, 18 km

So, we have 100 kms to go!  Wooo! The next time I post we will be in Rome! Woooo! My sister has joined for the last week of the walk! Wooooo! Nick and I are absolutely wrecked! Woooooo! 

(Just outside Montefiascone-100 kms to the Tomb of Saint Peter in Rome. Bit morbid really)

The last two weeks of the walk has just sped by, perhaps due to us being in a state of perpetual exhaustion. Days blend into the next and I've now reached the point where I can't remember where we stayed three days ago.  I thought this trip would bring a heightened sense of awareness, a better taking-in, of what is around us, but in some ways i've found the opposite: there is so much to take in, it's almost overwhelming.

As we left the Appenines behind we reached the low plains of the coast, and I was able to go to the BEACH!  I went swimming (in my underwear mind you), and we ate steaks and drank coronas. It felt like Mexico and was glorious!!!  
(The beach at Marina di Massa)

We awoke the next morning to a massive thunderstorm, with torrential rain and flooding glutters.  Great. After much agonizing we made the call, and took a train to Lucca, skipping two stages, and taking two days of rest instead.  Since then we have also had to abadon another walk half way through due to rain. It's funny, that even though walking in a downpour is akin to madness we still went through a process of analysing and justifying our decision to ourselves, including discussing whether pilgrims in days of old would have taken the option of a covered cart ride if it were offered to them on a rainy day. I mean, of course they bloody would've!!

The days of rest were well needed, probably not quite sufficient, but still gave us enough energy to keep on going.  The following days of walking through Tuscany were just beautiful, with big open blue skies and rolling green and gold hills. We stayed in some of the most stunning places- medieval towns perched on hilltops or old monasteries looking over olive groves and vineyards.  For me, this was the Italy I expected to see. 
(The walk out of San Gimignano. Probably our most favourite town so far.)

(Sunflower field- Tuscany)

The walks themselves have been some of the most challenging so far (I think i've said that a few times now) with high temperatures, a lot of distance to cover and endless up and downs over the hills.  We moved our starting time earlier to beat the heat, often leaving by six in the morning.  The most physically exhausting day we walked 25 km across broad exposed hills, me with a knee brace on because i'd strained a muscle the day before. By the time we finished at around 4pm it was 34 degrees.  

Another day we left at five in the morning, again to beat the heat, and also because the last 8 km involved a steady climb. But naturally on this day, it stormed again, so the last few hours were done in rain as we slowly crept up the mountain. 

(Early morning start. San Miniato Basso)
(See the mountains in the distance? We walked there. It was hot.)

On days like this, where we are struggling with tiredness and either furious heat or soul-dampening rain it is hard to keep on going. The kilometres just drag by and we question what we are doing.  I get caught in brain-loops where I find that i've been thinking, and often worrying, about something entirely trivial for the last half an hour.  But we keep on going, and now, we are almost there. 

With over 800 kms down and about 100 to go Rome seems very near.  I'm thinking already about buying an outfit which isn't hiking related, getting a haircut and plucking my eyebrows. And sleeping of course.  I'm also wondering how I will view this experience when I look back on it in future.  At the moment it seems almost too overwhelming, and at times painful, exhausting and boring, as well as joyous.  But I think in time the hard bits will soften, and we will remember the fun stuff, the amazing scenery and people and think "remember that time we walked to Rome, that was a lark!"

(The dorm overflow in San Miniato Basso: the ambulance comms caravan)

Tuesday 15 July 2014

The pilgrim experience

Day 24, Fidenza to Medesano, 22 km
Day 25, Medesano to Sivizzano, 20 km
Day 26, Sivizzano to Cassio, 13 km
Day 27, Cassio to Ostello-della-Cisa, 17 km
Day 28, Ostello-della-Cisa to Pontremoli, 21 km
Day 29, Pontremoli to Villafranca-in-Lunigiana, 18 km
Day 30, Villafranca-in-Lunigiana to Aulla, 15 km
Day 31, Aulla to Sarzana, 17 km

So, it looks like we have been walking for a month already. Piece of cake really, nothing new in that. Nick has walked the past 18 days in a row, me 15. In the last week we've gone from the flat northern plains, across the Apennine mountain range and into Tuscany.  We are over halfway through in terms of both distance and time. And i'll tell you something: I am knackered.
(Crossing the Cisa Pass in the Apennines)

Waking up in Aulla I could barely open my eyes. An hour or so later we were dragging ourselves 500 metres up a mountain (that's ascent, not actual distance) and down the other side. It was a long day, with calf-popping climbs and slippery descents over loose rock and shale. We stumbled through forests, over logs and through so many spiderwebs I lost count.

We walked through two giant muddy puddles as the path was so hemmed in by metre-high blackberry bushes there was no way around. We've seen lonesome socks and sad undies lying on the path from where a blackberry branch has plucked them off the backpack of an unsuspecting pilgrim, who just wanted some dry clothes, for pities sake!  
(Unhappy puddle face)

In the past few weeks I've found that the fundamentals of living: getting clean and dry, getting food and having somewhere to sleep, become the focus of your attention. Everything else tends to fall away as you aim to get these basic needs met.

Getting clothing clean and dry is virtually impossible.  The first day we started walking up the Apennines it was unbelievably hot and humid.  I'm a sweaty person at the best of times, but after one hour it was like I'd been thrown in a swimming pool. I had to take off my pants and top and dry them on a picnic table. I'm sure that was a nice surprise for the cyclist that passed by.  

The following days it was so cold and rainy it wasn't even worth trying to handwash and dry anything. We went three days with soggy footwear, unwashed pants and damp and sweaty backpacks. Leaving the mountains and finding a laundromat can now actually be counted as highlight of the trip. We just smelt so good!
(Nick about to get rained on...again)

Food can be another tricky thing. Generally we have breakfast where we stay or grab a coffee and croissant as we leave town. We usually carry our lunch: bread, meat, cheese, fruit, snacks etc and have mini picnics on park benchs, church steps, or the side of the road. Dinner is as much delicious food we can stuff into our tired bodies. 
(Lunigiana speciality: Testaroli- grilled pasta with fresh pesto- almost like a pancake. Noms)

But twice we have arrived in towns at the end of the day to find that nothing is open. Either the town has no restuarant or grocery store, or they are closed- usually on Sundays and Mondays. The first time this happened in Santa Christina- think an Italian version of Swan Hill- the bar was able to supply us with ample sustenance: lunchtime's reheated margherita pizza, beer, mineral water and a gelati.  The next day we arrived in another small town reasonably early and sought out lunch (Orio Litta- a bit like Hopetoun- if you've never heard of it there's a reason why.) No restaurants were open, and the town didn't have a supermarket, so into the bar we went. We feasted on preheated margherita pizza, beer, mineral water and gelati. Variety is indeed the spice of life.

The following Monday in Sivizzano, I discovered that what the caretaker had tried to explain to me over the phone in Italian, was that there would be no shops open when we arrived, so we should buy food in the town 8 kms before. 

Oh.

But she was lovely, and gave us ingredients for pasta and some snacks. In the morning she loaned me her bike to whizz down to the now-open grocer and buy our breakfast and lunch. 
(Santa Margherita Monastery)
 
Our accomodation there in Sivizzano was probably the most magical we have experienced- sleeping in the 10th century Santa Margherita monastery, with it's arched rock walls and patio out onto a courtyard beside the church. Other places we stay are more traditional, a B&B or hotel if that's the only option, but we try to stay in the religious and community run hostels where possible.   The Cappucini Convent in Pontremoli had individual rooms for each pilgrim in what would originally be monks' cells, with a bed, desk, cupboard and washbasin.  We stayed in a Francigena-pilgrim specific hostel in Cassio in the Appenines which was stuffed to the gills with food for us to eat. It was crazy. Kind of like a Hansel and Gretel gingerbread house for pilgrims. 
(Pretty Pontremoli)

(Overwhemed and a little scared by food choice is Cassio)
 
So, really, sometimes all the things we need do come together at once. A ton of food when we really need it, a wood fire to dry shoes when its been pelting with rain, a laundromat popping up on our route into town, a comfy bed and a warm blanket. Even a dentist in a small town when I chipped my tooth on an olive.  The dentist was amazing, gave me a new improved tooth, a kiss on the forehead (it's his signature welcome to the clinic apparently) and a reduced bill as he knew we were pilgrims.  

So maybe i should just worry a bit less about the basics, and let them take care of themselves. 


Thursday 3 July 2014

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.)