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.