Tag: VF travelogues

20th May 2016. Aftermath of my walk

After Destination Rome finally attained, I can only confirm that “many roads lead to Rome”

Forging forward
Fearlessly
Fervently
Following fords and fields to
Fulfil faith in final feat.

These are the ultimate words of my versifying friend and I thank her for encouraging me with her intellectual prowess (as she is now in her stride and has enjoyed the blog, she also suggested that I might like to continue on to Naples!).  Also thanks to you all for your encouragement and for following my progress which I think sometimes may have fluctuated between Bunyan’s “Pilgrim’s” and Hogarth’s “Rake’s”…   Many of you have been in my thoughts, especially those of you who could not undertake such a walk for various reasons, and I have also walked for and with you, and I dedicate my walk to you (and of course to Catherine for the advice and “bonbons” which she gave me and which constantly helped me).

I arrived in Rome so my walk is over, as is probably my “pilgrimage” life given that my knees might not take too kindly to such an effort again, but I have been blessed with good health and have been privileged to have had all the experiences I did over these long kilometres during the last three springs. I will in future be satisfied with doing one or two day walks with my walking group. As Marcel Proust said “The true voyage of discovery is not in looking for new lands but in having new eyes”, so I hope my eyes will continue to remain sharp in the future.

I have reread the “Aftermath” text from last year (you can see it further back in the blog, at the end of the 2015 posts, if you have not read it before) and I could now write the same words again. Mine was not a pilgrimage but more a long walk, an opportunity to step back from everyday life and “take stock” of how I was spending my time, and it was always more about the travelling than the destination. To walk as I have done (the “extraordinary” ordinary), to live well with very little, to become aware of how others live, helps one to dispense with the superfluous “stuff” of everyday life and I have been enriched by this privilege. Simple pleasures and encounters take on another dimension. This was a great gift and made for such rich travelling!

Perhaps last year I didn’t fully realize as it was happening, and only entirely did so as I was recuperating at home, that I had had the privilege of living completely in the present moment for a month. So this year I was more fully aware of that every day. Walking alone in the way I did forced me to be constantly attentive to all aspects of my immediate environment (and of course always to where I was putting my feet…), but also to take care of myself as there were not always others around. And I did so appreciate the encouragement and help of fellow walkers and other people all along the way. I have much to be thankful for and now feel fulfilled in having completed it.

Of course I often thought of Sigeric (and especially when I arrived at St Peter’s) and his long, long walk there and then back home again, with almost nothing, without modern comforts, and the courage it must have taken. What did he think of some of the people he met, the places he went to and the experiences he had? And imagine when he got home he would have been “straight back to work” with all the problems of the Church to deal with…and what might he have made of pilgrims who would be turning up in Canterbury?

Apart from the enjoyable rhythm of my walking days, the beauty of the landscape and other environments, the interest I have found in so many things, what will remain with me most is the warmth of the encounters I have had with so many and varied people. Above all there is one common thread running through it all which is that the Italian people are, in general, blessed with their ability to forge warm relationships, to see life in a certain way and accept it, and make the best of things to obtain a real quality of life. Taking life as it happens and continuing on regardless with good humour, warmth, and fortitude such that, irrespective of what we have or receive in life, what we have to confront and live through, what happens to us, both good and the bad, in the end what really counts is the manner in and attitude with which we face and live out our lives.

I have been enriched in countless ways and beyond any expectations by my walk which has been one of the highlights of my life, and I hope that the memories and the lessons I have learned will remain with me.

To finish, you may be interested in knowing that I went to see the San Rocco church in Rome but it was completely closed up with no external indication that it was dedicated to our favourite saint. However I photographed the plaque on the facade and a friend has given me a rough translation:

“Lest [in order that not] the dreadful plague touch mortal bodies
[and] lest filthy crimes stain immortal souls, come – fall to thy prayers.         Rocco”

Some wise words of others have stayed with me. This is a panel next to the road near Berceto which I think speaks to us all:

Roughly translated (by me) it reads:

“Try to discover who you are,
And try to be that which you are.
Decide which thing should come first,
And choose to do it.
Discover your strengths,
Use them and give them space.
Learn to not compete with others
No one is in a battle with you.

When you’ve done this…

You will have learnt to accept your uniqueness
To define priorities and take decisions
To live within your limits
And to give yourself the respect which you deserve.

And your life will be more exhilarating and vital.

…make this known”

 

And this at the Benedictine Cloister in Sivizzano

PS I am still so grateful for pilgrim Charles (from last year) for showing me how to take a photo without unlocking the iPhone, such a small thing which made such a big difference during my walk (and also for other wisdom which he distilled). Another useful thing I have learned is not to leave on a pilgrimage without a good supply of safety pins as these are invaluable in hanging up clothes to dry when clothes pegs are broken or are in short supply, which is usually the case in hostels!

Arrivederci and be well until we meet again.   Lyn

16th May 2016  La Storta to Saint Peter’s

15.5 km

Good weather

Venturesome
Vigorous
Valiant
Virtues validating
Via victory

Yes, my versifying friend could see victory at hand before me…not too sure about the ‘virtues’ though.

Well, some of my clothes dried sufficiently to be worn and the orthotics in my walkers protected my soles from the still-wet walkers.  I thought I might be obliged to try the trick of one of my walking friends who always takes a spare pair of socks and two little plastic bags with her and changes into the clean socks after a wet walk, slips the little plastic bags over them and then back into the wet shoes!

I set off earlier than usual as the office in the Vatican closed, I believed, at 12.30 and I needed to be there to get my credenziale stamped in its very last available space and receive my ‘testimonium’ to prove that I really have finished my venture (& don’t have to return for another year).

When I saw what was available for breakfast in the hotel & was told it wasn’t included in the price of the room, I decided to forego it…  So I walked straight out onto the Via Cassia until I found a decent bar.  And then it was ‘boots on the ground’ for 15km to St Peter’s.

Always along this busy road with Romans in cars (of course) until it branched off and I walked all the way to Vatican City on the Via Trionfale (triumphant, marvellous isn’t it!).

Sometimes on footpaths of varying quality, sometimes on the road when cars were parked on the footpaths so blocking them, sometimes none at all, and built-up areas all the way.  I had a map but this time there were no intermediate points with the kilometres marked so I just had to gauge where I was.  The waysigns were few and far between sometimes very basic and nothing like the smarter signs I’d seen along my way.

At one point the road went ahead while another branched off & I thought I’d check with a young woman as there were no street names that I could see just there and she indicated to continue on and then came running after me to say she’d made a mistake, so I was saved from doing extra kms…

Nothing very interesting along the way except some yellow footprints which started to appear on the footpath or road when it was advisable to cross over to the other side to get a, or a better, footpath.

And there were Romans who were also frustrated with drivers who had no respect for pedestrians…  The only thing that wasn’t very triumphant about this road was the long lines of cars often banked up at lights or for other obstacles – I even started to understand the frustrations the drivers must have felt?

I came to the Monte Mario park and walked up the ramp to see Rome and my first view of St Peter’s below.

It was quite something to be finally so close and then there were steps down (in a poor state) to avoid two hairpin turns in the road which were appreciated. And at last I was at the entry to the Vatican Museums and I walked past the hundreds of people queued up to get in there (as I have been in the past) with the queue snaking around the walls.

And then there were the beautiful collanades in sight and around further the basilica at last. I must admit I had a tear in my eye and a lump in my throat when I arrived in the piazza in front of the basilica, right as 12 noon was striking. So I asked someone to take a photo (the plastic bag visible on my leg has my poor guide book inside and half stuffed into my pocket…too heavy to carry).

and then I had to make my way to the Sacristy before it closed.

When I explained about getting the credenziale stamped a volunteer let me through a ‘fast-track’ rather than queue up with the many people who wanted to visit the basilica and I left my backpack & sticks in a cloak-room & headed up the steps.  Then through the “Holy Door” as Pope Francis has  declared this an extraordinary holy year of “Misericordia”.  After the initial “shock” of the sheer opulence of the interior I finally got to the Sacrestry in time and was let in to receive the final stamp, the testimonium and a postcard of Michelangelo’s extraordinary Pieta.

Couldn’t believe it was now finished…  I wondered how Sigeric felt when he arrived back in Canterbury (and I can only have immense respect for the courage and fortitude he must have had).

I asked about a mass for pilgrims only to be informed of a normal mass time, so I’ll try to go to mass in the beautiful church of Santa Maria in Trastevere.

I went back into the church and wandered around feasting my eyes on this glorious work of man. With the increase in tourism many parts are now cordonned off and it wasn’t even possible to get near the Baldacchino

Or to touch the foot of the bronze statue of St Peter as in the past.

I finally went into a little chapel which was open for prayer so I could sit quietly for a while, fortunately accompanied by some beautiful Bernini gilt angels on the altar.

I am so pleased to be finally here safe and sound…and I thank you all for supporting me on this long journey. I think it will take me a little time to get back to real life…

Now on foot, of course, to my hotel in the Trastevere district to get into what I hope is a nice room!

I’ll do a “final aftermath” to my walk after I return to Geneva (too many favourite places to visit in Rome in the next couple of days).

15th May 2016  Campagnano di Roma to La Storta

27.5km which should have been 24.5 but that’s a long story…

Beautiful weather at first but then atrocious weather.

Well-wishers watch
In wonderment
Willing wanderers
Withstanding weary walks
Without waiver
While wending way to well earned rest

Received this from my versifying friend who thought it not very good but necessary to get me to Rome!

Up early to try to benefit from some good weather before storms which were predicted for the afternoon.
Poor breakfast but straight out and on to a new path (different from guide book) and it was lovely to walk up and down along little mostly-bitumen country roads on a quiet Sunday morning. Fields of crops, wooded hills, wild flowers.

Easy walking. After 5 km I arrived at the Sanctuary of Madonna del Sorbo but when I walked in and up the road to visit and all I saw were portable toilets – what goes on here? – and as it was too far up to the main building and also very quiet (so probably closed) I continued on my way.

I walked on and eventually I came across a big open area where the local police were talking to some people but a bit further on there were many people assembling for a “walk” in favour of the intellectually and physically handicapped. I saw many others of all ages arriving as I walked on.
On to Formello, taking a new route through the town centre (as I was told it was shorter but I also needed a cappuccino) and it was an interesting place (very old). Had my cappuch in a nice bar and watched the whole town either walk by or else be seated in all the public spaces. I walked through an arch into the older part of town and there just before 11am were all the young people, dressed in long white robes, with their families waiting for their first communion mass. Lovely!

I walked on through lovely old streets and little squares with so many flowering plants.

Then down steep steps to the “foot gate” and straight onto footpaths through the bottom of the valley for a few kilometres.

People walked with dogs and none of them barked! On a woodland path and then on small roads and cyclists went past, participating in some sort of race. When they saw me, the hands went out down the line…but no “ciao” chorus. At one point I met people who had walked 7km for the organized walk and took a photo with them.

Shortly afterwards the waysigns disagreed with my guidebook & I was studying both and a woman relaxing on a grassy spot opposite said the VF went through the woods (which seemed to correspond to my map).

After a few km on a made path I came up on to a small road and followed it but only came to a waysign signaling a secondary VF path (which was longer) but the normal waysigns seemed to have disappeared. So I consulted the guide book again and tried to make sense of where I was (and she spoke of path ‘1’ and ‘2’) but the book seemed to be coming from another direction. I should have been a kilometer or two max from the little town I was headed towards but… I wandered around searching along this road and that until I saw a sign into a field which signalled a number ‘1’ VF path so followed it. Then a storm finally broke right over my head so I quickly kitted myself out for the rain and it poured down as I walked through this field which had some waysigns painted on tree trunks and I continued and then there no more signs.

At that point it not only poured but it started hailing and I tried unsuccessfully to shelter a little under an oak tree but to no avail. I was fully soaked as lightening and thunder were right overhead and by this time my feet, previously dry, were squelching. The lightening and thunder continued…and I decided I had to go back towards the road. As I went I saw a sign I had missed which pointed down to a dirt path through undergrowth so I followed it down, down, down or rather, because it was like a torrent, I walked each side if it. Finally at the bottom and no more signs… I continued on through a field and then another, each lined with trees. At one point I thought there were buildings not far away but there was always a stream lower down hidden behind trees between me and them. I continued on so far from field to field that there was no way I could find my way back (and there was certainly no way I could walk back up that path) so I figured that someone must own these fields and that if I continued long enough I would find a road… On and on and then I saw a sign painted on a tree trunk so I continued till I came to a road, but which way to go as the signs disappeared again!

Then along came three German women walkers! Hallelujah! Karin, Birgitta and Miriam were completely lost and had a GPS but didn’t know where they were. But for me I was blessed to no longer be alone. Karin said we should go in a certain direction and we walked and eventually came to a bitumen road. While walking one of them asked me had I met Enrico whom they’d met several times! There was a farm opposite the end of this road and Karin went up towards the farm to ask for information but I feared no one would be there on Sunday afternoon.

I halted a car and asked someone where La Storta (our final destination) was and she said about 1.5km down the road. I was willing to chance it but then Karin  called us to come up. And there we received real Italian hospitality – we were all dripping but ‘no problem, come inside, take your backpacks and vests off’ in the big kitchen-dining room with an enormous table.   This family (Rita, Febo, 2 grandchildren and an apprentice bee-keeper from Rome, and a young woman cleaning up) had just finished a late lunch. They brought towels, made us tea, offered food, and said they’d drive us to our accommodation.  I tried to look for accommodation in my ‘deluged’ guide book which had been in my trouser pocket (as the others all had somewhere to go) and when Rita saw the state of my poor guide book she optimistically brought me a hairdryer (but it would have taken a long time to be effective…). I turned it on and it blew a fuse! In good Italian fashion, they knew nothing about accommodation in this town so close…so I asked if I could connect to the Internet – another very complicated affair which was finally resolved by the 11 year old grandson – and eventually I made a booking.

Rita was an expert bee-keeper and another woman who is learning this “art” was there as they had planned to move a swarm today but the storm stopped them ( otherwise they wouldn’t have been at home).

Finally Febo, drove us to our various accommodations. I was sitting in the front seat talking to him and it seemed his parents who were in Egypt at the time had sent him to school in Switzerland (because his grandmother had been Swiss) and he had gone to university in Geneva! He goes to Geneva once a month so I said to call me next time and I’ll buy him a drink. He also spoke about the high taxes they pay and that they have no service to show for it…such as the poor wifi, without speaking about the roads…
So into my hotel and everything was completely soaked, except for things inside my waterproof bags in my backpack… I don’t think my walkers, knapsack (even with its waterproof cover some parts got soaked), gloves, jacket, hat, socks, pants, etc, will dry before tomorrow and no pizzeria oven here this evening… I eventually walked 700m along the road to a restaurant and when I was ready to walk back another storm had broken! I had borrowed an umbrella but…

So, I have had the best (I found help in some fellow walkers and the overly generous Italian reception at the end of a harrowing experience) and the worst (being completely lost in rain and a deluge and hail and being wet right through in cooler weather) but I am alive and in La Storta, on the outskirts of Rome, and my knee has held out very well.  I will take my last remaining magic pill this evening and hope the effect lasts until I get to Rome tomorrow.

Unfortunately my poor guide book which used to fit into the pocket of my trousers has not withstood two days of pelting rain…and will never recover. I just hope I can prise open the pages I need for tomorrow and the two days after in Rome…

Of course I will be dropping notes into the Suggestion Box of the Via Francigena Association on the state of the waymarkings and the quality of the paths on the final stages of the Via.

Last year when I had to stop walking I received a lovely message from a friend in New York and it comes to mind today as I am at the final stage before entering into Rome, and I’m sure she won’t mind my sharing it with you:

“Oh. On a bus crosstown in New York. Reading these last few installments with tears in my eyes. I wanted to follow you all the way to Rome! But, in fact, this is a great ending to what I’m now thinking of as volume 2 of your walking journal. Will it be a trilogy? Will our friend and heroine arrive in Rome at the end of book 3?  Next summer? I can’t wait to find out!”
Me too!

So, let’s see what happens tomorrow.

 

 

14th May 2016    Sutri to Campagnano di Roma

21.7km
Bad, bad, weather

As I left Sutri I decided to have an early cappuch to make up for the bad breakfast. Speaking to the barista I asked him the secret of an excellent cappuccino and he said it was to not to heat the milk over 60c, maximum 65c, and added that as I had asked for a hot drink he had heated the cup first with boiling water!
Leaving the town I tried to see the archeological site, with vestiges of both Etruscan and Roman civilizations, through the opening into the site but a girl popped out of the ticket office and said I couldn’t look in! As I didn’t have time to really visit, I walked on.
I walked along small roads and then on to a track through hazelnut plantations when it started to rain.  There were still some beautiful flowers to see.

I plodded on regardless and after passing a fountain where one could stock up on drinking water (I have often seen people going to public fountains with big containers to get water), I could see what I thought was Monterosi but it seemed too close. Only later did I realize that I was in fact walking around a golf course to get there.

In order to get in from the rain as I arrived in Monterosi, I walked into the Gorgeous (I kid you not) Bar, and a very busy and lively place it was. If one likes them, they had the best selection of all types of croissants and brioches, etc, that I have seen. But they also had big slices of jam tarts (‘crostate’) which I do like (bitter cherry is delicious) but the slices were too big for me!

As I left the town I passed through the big piazza-roundabout named for “the dead of all wars” but as it wasn’t very busy I didn’t think they’d have to add dead pilgrims to the name!
I then started to follow the Via Cassia, first by track beside the road and then on the old Via Cassia running next to modern one, for some kilometres, with traffic coming towards me only but still a little hairy, all the time with rain. I stopped to tighten my shoelace and I saw a snail moving across a rock and I felt in symbiosis with it.

I made a couple of wrong turns but these were quickly corrected – you can’t imagine how complex some configurations of roads or paths can be. At one time I was on a dirt road parallel to the main road, but separated by a big hedge of all sorts of shrubs, and I came to a big closed gate into a property, so I looked around and along came a car with three young men in it. They indicated I should turn through the rough hedge, above the road, to my right…branches of bramble everywhere but at least they waited (& perhaps would have come to my aid) until I was through & gave the thumbs up sign.
At which point the fun really started as I had to face the on-coming traffic on the main road for 700m…and I laughed as my knee went down the food-chain as my life itself was now in top position, all in pelting rain, until I could get on to a side road towards Campagnano for the final 4 km. This was almost worse as I was right next to on-coming cars which sailed through all the puddles on the poor road at speed and I was the recipient of the sprayed water. I saw a fig tree with dozens of figs on it and I stopped to take a photo and lost a couple of minutes during which a deluge came down.

A kilometer later I was pointed to path which was, well, horrible. It was washed away on one side where a torrent was coursing down and thus the other muddy side was on a slope. I was cursing that such a path could exist at the end of the third last stage towards Rome…but I suppose if you now had a captive audience you wouldn’t have to make such an effort to keep your clients. No photo here as I was too busy coping with the rain and the torrent running over the path!  This continued for the last three kilometres, turning into a very steep sealed road towards the end into Campagnano which I entered in a tremendous deluge.
I had seen publicity for two or three hotels so went towards them thinking that there’d be no problem in such a small place on a Saturday night – but the woman in the first one said they were full (there was some motor car event nearby over the weekend), so I asked her to call the other but ‘it is also full’ and when I asked about a third she replied ‘that hotel is very expensive’!  I replied that it would be fine, completely soaked as I was, and then the waiter who’d been cleaning up after the last lunch clients said that there was a mistake and there should be a room available. So they had a discussion and it seemed there was a double room but I’d have to pay double. As if I cared! I quickly asked if I could eat something, although it was 3pm, as I was frozen as well as wet and, after another long discussion between three people, I received a big bowl of bean soup, a salad, water and wine.

They left me to it in the restaurant and I had to eat before I changed out of my wet clothes…there were no other public areas in which to sit so I made the most of the wifi connection in the restaurant.
However I’m not a baker’s daughter for nothing and what did I spy when I was leaving, but the pizza oven already heating for the evening with wood burning in it like when I was a child.  This big restaurant was principally a pizzeria and I could see why once I tasted one later!  Once I’d had a shower and changed into something dry and tried to hang my things out to also dry, I decided to take my soaking walkers down and put them in front of the half-open oven door.

Between showers I went out to visit the town, through the inevitable stone monumental gate into the main street of the old town, but it was a completely forgettable place, very poor looking. I returned to the restaurant and, thinking this was too good to be true (as the bedroom was cold with no drying possibility), I went and got my jacket, my knapsack, my gloves and socks, and put them around me, sitting not too far from the oven, the queen of my realm as I worked on my iPad.

When the woman pizzaiolo arrived I explained about my soaking shoes and she said ‘no problem’ and opened a big sliding door under the oven and put them in there so I got her to add the socks and gloves which she insisted on putting on newspaper.
All this time the last line of Frank McCourt’s introduction to ‘Angela’s Ashes’ was going through my mind “…and we were wet!”

So, I sat at the same table for dinner with the wine and water remaining from lunch, still with knapsack and jacket around me drying.  I had one of the best pizzas ever – the dough was of organic stone ground flour with natural leavening and left to rise a long time – a white pizza (no tomato sauce) with fiordilatte mozzarella, fresh spinach and Taggiasca olives (no less!) which was delicious!

This was a very big restaurant which was full, with people coming and going all the time, and the woman pizza maker was directing her female helpers with brio. Many people also came in for take-away pizzas.  I sat there with my iPad until late & then recovered all my clothes and shoes and went up to a cold room but to a welcome bed after what had been a less than easy day but I had survived and my knee had held up. And what was most important?

13th May 2016  Vetralla to Sutri
15 km in a car and 6.5km on foot

Mostly sunny but with wind

Roaming Roman roads with
Resolve
Respect
Reflection
Renders ramblers real renewal.

I received this overnight as an encouragement from my versifying friend.  I was still undecided what to do but I didn’t want to stay in Vetralla another day…

A fellow came into the breakfast area wearing bright orange work clothes. I was excited to think that I might finally be meeting someone who worked on the roads…but no, he and a colleague were only laying optic fibre (but under the road!) to get better internet, so help for the poor wifi is at hand.

I had what passes for breakfast and was speaking to Valentina (granddaughter of Bernadetta) who offered to drive me further on so I asked if we could go as far as Capranica which was 15km (walking) down the road. I had read that the first 7.5 km of walking only took one off the road to a shrine just at the end of the “conurbation” of Vetralla!  I thought that I’d try to walk 5.5 km from Capranica to Sutri (to test my knee) where I’d stay the night.  I was a little sad but thought good sense should win out over pride (a lesson of the Via…)

She agreed and we set off.  She offered to call for a hotel there, which she did, so I saw an Italian in action on the telefonino while driving…  On the way we chatted and I heard about her life and the quite serious health problems she has and the difficulties she’s had getting treatment because hospitals are closing down and consequently that those remaining are overstretched.  Finally I said that if the Italians didn’t have their positive outlook on life & weren’t accepting of sub-optimum conditions, they’d all be depressed.  She laughed and said “imagine the Swedes if they lived here!” (as she had lived in Sweden for a while). I have met several younger people here, like Valentina, who have had to work in their parents’ businesses for lack of economic opportunity…how lucky I was in my working life during a time of full employment.

She left me at the entry to the old town of Capranica which was ideal and, after having a cappuch, I went straight into an alimentari to get a sandwich.  The woman held the loaf to her chest and cut two precise slices with the knife going towards her – said she can’t cut it any other way.  What skill.

I walked through the main street and at the other end I met a couple with two children and they were a German family doing the Via Francigena.  The girl of 4 1/2 and the boy of 3 walk about 10 km in the mornings and then the parents pull them along for the rest of the day in a trolley they have!  So one is never too old or too young for the Via.

I set off on a footpath and went past a little church of San Rocco (closed) as well as a fountain named after him.

Quickly onto a lovely forest road which was easy walking, first going uphill and then levelling out.   It was very peaceful with bird calls.  All the time I was trying to practise my best NW technique (we had a welcome refresher course of the technique in March from our teacher Catherine) with my hands flat and going way back, all to take pressure off the knees.

I came to a minor bitumen and walked along it. There were plantations of trees everywhere and it turned out, when I stopped to speak to a man tending some, that they were hazelnuts.  He was from Tuscany and had come down for several days to tend the trees and was clearing the ground around their trunks.  I asked about them and he showed me some nuts already forming where they had previously flowered.

He explained about their cultivation and care, resistance to the climate (it had been -2c early this morning as there is a particular climate in the area, and had recently been -20c), how they were harvested (they fall off the trees) and the different machines which help in this process, how they are sold to the local consorzio which has sophisticated machines to calculate a fair price irrespective of the condition of the nuts, and then sent off e.g. to Perugina (for their ‘baci’ chocolates) or to Switzerland etc.  He laughed and said I now knew more about hazelnuts than his three sons (who are in Milan, Rome and overseas who aren’t at all interested) put together.  I heard his life story, he is 77, and he used to run marathons…

I continued on for another couple of km to the historic  town of Sutri and I was so relieved that my knee was fine.  I was thinking that blisters go down the feeding chain when knee problems occur.  I didn’t think about my blisters, which are nearly healed, all day.  I was reflecting about pilgrims and thought of Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales and I wondered if any of those pilgrims had such physical ailments but, as my sister said, they were used to ‘walking everywhere’.

It started to rain as I arrived in the town, and rained on and off all afternoon.  Not supposed to be much better for several days.

Sutri was known from the Bronze Age and had been Etruscan.  It acquired military and political importance with the Roman conquest and from then was known as one of the most flourishing cities in Latium. As it is on the Via Cassia it was still important after the fall of the empire.  There are many Etruscan and Roman archeological remains but I didn’t see them as it rained heavily and I thought I could see them as I left the town in the morning.

Through an arch into the old town, there is a lovely central piazza with a big fountain, many little shops further along the principal road of the town, and several churches.

I went to see the cathedral but it was uninteresting (converted to a Baroque style in the 18th century) except for the original Roman cosmatesco pavement in the nave.

Also saw the San Rocco church but it was being restored however it has no statue or reference to our favourite Saint.   There were all sorts of different designs painted in white on several streets and it appears that this is for an ‘infiorita’ to celebrate Corpus Domini at the end of May.  Each area of the town will cover the painted designs in their streets with fresh flowers, flower petals and leaves.  I have seen this in the past and it is beautiful.

My dinner, at a restaurant recommended by the patron of the alimentari (“make sure you tell them I sent you”), was one of the best meals I’ve had yet.
Entree of rice with Jerusalem artichokes and fried globe artichokes (like a risotto) delicious!

Main of cod fish with prunes, apple, onions, pine nuts and sultanas – extra delicious!
Great mixed salad.
All washed down with water and red wine from the area. Replete and off to bed. Fortunately I had a little walk back to the hotel…

And my day, about which I had been so fearful, had ended so positively.

12th May 2016  Viterbo to Vetralla

Overcast with sunny spells but no rain

(Hallelujah, have just discovered how to make the photos more visible so have adjusted Viterbo and will start going back to adjust previous ones as time allows.)

Exactly 20 km – should have been 17 but 1 km lost in Viterbo and then I got lost again…
Fine weather when rain had been forecast! Quite some cloud around but very agreeable for walking.

Sally forth in spring
Stepping spritely
Scaling hills
Scanning scenery
Seeking self in simple pleasures

This is the inspired verse I received from my wonderful versifying friend and I set out this morning with her words singing in my ears.

Today was a good walking day all through countryside on little roads or paths, but I got lost twice!
The lovely Matteo came to get me breakfast which was good: fruit, yoghurt, bread with cheese and ham, tea.
I set off convinced I knew how to get to the cathedral as I’d been there a couple of times and had packed the good map away, so of course I took a wrong turn…these old cities need to be respected as there are no straight streets.

I finally asked a man the way as no bars were open in the little streets I was in, and he said he was going there. I looked again and he was a priest who’d been out to buy bread and he walked me to the cathedral and I was on the right path again. I had seen no bars open and knowing that I’d be straight on to little roads for 17km once I walked through the old city walls, I had no other option than to go into MacDonalds (any port in a storm) right next to my path. And a good cappuch it was too.
It was a day through countryside and small roads along, up and down, playing hide-and-seek with the motorway, over and under it several times, through a countryside of crops, green and yellow, olive groves.  Lovely views at times.

Also some well-tended vegetable gardens, beautiful wild flowers, and of course the eternal barking of several dogs at EVERY property passed. Of course, I could look at it positively and say they were giving me a welcome, even with wild eyes and teeth bared, as they always ran the length of their garden all the time barking, accompanying me…and I am beginning to believe that small dogs are the worst.
Not far out of Viterbo there was a wayside shrine to Saints Illario and Valentino of the site of their martyrdom – probably a priest and a deacon who were killed around the end of the 3rd century during a period of persecution by the Roman emperor Diocletian.

At one point I was on the little path through a field signalled as the “Itinerary of Faith” -Etruscan, Roman and Christian, marked with the “Stations of the Cross” type glass picture frames, all through grass, and there was an Etruscan tomb but it was locked and couldn’t be seen.

It was a day of encounters:
– first the kind priest who helped me find my way out of the city

– I was stopped on a dirt road advancing the fold in the map in my transparent map pocket when a hiker of a “certain age” (probably my age) going in the other direction with a staff and a backpack said to me in broken English, “the signs are marked”, and then “I’m going to home” & he was away again before I could ask him anything. This was the biggest regret of the day. Where had he come from at 10 in the morning going the other way?

– I came across a disgusting small mountain of broken and worn out furniture, appliances, etc, dumped next to the road and then a man appeared. I lamented on this and he could only agree but it seemed that behind the fence there had been a rubbish dump which was since closed. I asked him if he lived nearby, “yes”, and was he taking a walk, “un giro”, and he said “una giretta”, just a small stroll. Shame he had to walk by such a mess.

– Sometime later a slowly-moving 4 wheel drive came down a very quiet small road, in the middle of nowhere, and it was the “polizia provinciale”, so perhaps they have to prove that they’ve been doing the rounds (pity they couldn’t find those who were dumping the garbage).

– an Italian walker of about 40 passed me (he must have started off late also). He was walking in socks & pliable sandals & his hiking boots were attached to his backpack. Some time later I met him again seated at a (very rare) picnic table on the path through fields and olive groves (only for VF walkers?) so I sat down to also eat & drink something. This was Enrico who looks after an Italian mountain refuge, open all year round, close to the Simplon Pass, just near the border with Switzerland. He then decided to find accommodation for the night so when he rang a hotel listed in my guide to ask the price I asked him to book for me, which he kindly did. He then continued to ring the hostels each time asking the price and whether cooking facilities were available. Anyway I left him and walked on but asked as I left why the sandals & he explained that he had slipped and hurt his foot so couldn’t wear the boots.
So I got back on the track and arrived in a zone where the guide recommends extreme care as the waysigns disappear completely in an area which is down into a hollow through a “complicated area” with turns everywhere…so on I walked but I didn’t see some of the structures and other things described in the guide although when I finally saw a house on my left I walked in front of it & kept on (as directed by the guide). However the path went through fields and got worse and worse and after 500 metres I had to return to the house & try again but still no good. I was lamenting being lost in the middle of (really!) nowhere with empty farm houses and buildings around.  I returned to the junction of the road and then, Hallelujah, who did I see coming along but Enrico!! I couldn’t believe my luck and felt I was blessed as he must have sat for quite a while…and words from a song in The Sound of Music came to me “so somewhere in my youth and childhood I must have done something good…”

He was using his iPhone application Sloways & guided me as I wasn’t quite where I thought I was…but as I had read and reread the instructions so much I was able to tell him what was coming up – he laughed and said I sounded like a young child learning by rote! When one is lost one studies and interprets each word…over and over again.

It seemed that he had walked to Compostella to give up smoking which he did 8 years ago, but since then he had gained 10kg in weight so this time around is walking from Lucca to Rome without eating bread, pasta, potatoes etc. He loves fish (well you would, wouldn’t you, if you lived at a mountain refuge where all the food has to be brought in & is mostly non-perishable) and he buys it frozen from the supermarket and cooks it up each night. He may have been suffering as a km after we met up again, close to Vetralla, he spied a seat and said he would sit on it for a while. Didn’t see him again after that.

As I walked towards the hotel, I started to have some twinges and pain in my problematic knee…not a good sign with 4 days walking left towards Rome. So what to do, take some of the anti-inflammatories I have, stop walking for a day, take a bus? Will sleep on it and see tomorrow.

Into Vetralla to the hotel Enrico had reserved for me.
When I turned up at the albergo the proprietor (I assume) gave me a little map and marked where their restaurant was. I walked into the old part of the town, a poor looking place and quite sinister and unwelcoming, especially with a cold wind blowing.  No flowers along the streets here, and when I asked someone about a restaurant it seems that this is the only one near here. I went into the church which was in an unattractive Baroque style but there were about 15 children preparing for their first communion this weekend. I asked the priest when, and he said perhaps Saturday, perhaps Sunday, lots of things to arrange…
I spent an hour or two in a bar which was not nice at all (but I found an unlocked wifi connection!) – very basic, the music was blaring, the slots machines were played by almost everyone who came in, even some little old ladies, and then a young man came in and emptied out all the money from the slot machines!  All the locals (not a very pre-possessing lot) seemed to come in but there was not at all the ambience one expects in bars, with each one just trying to find a seat along the wall in order to pass time. I had a pot of tea with the least-worst type of industrial biscuit as I’d not eaten lunch…but the proprietor did refill the teapot for me.

Then I went to the restaurant which was closed for the weekly closing day! However a door was open to the adjoining bar, even though in darkness, and I explained I was from the hotel and was allowed in, thanks be to God. There I met the grandmother Bernadetta (82, and the husband at home is 85), the daughter Ornelia who runs the restaurant now and the granddaughter Valentina. So Ornelia didn’t have her evening off.

Francesco, the grandson from the hotel, has gone to Rome for the evening to see a tennis match with Djokovic playing. They seem to do “slow food” here and I had a good toast with porcini mushrooms followed by some excellent pasta which was made from stone-ground wheat, and a mixed salad. The restaurant has been in the family for over 50 years and I heard the whole story of the family…not easy, but these people face what comes to them.

I have since spoken to my Australian rheumatologist in Geneva who recommends resting for a day if possible…so, will see tomorrow.

High point of the day was the perfume when I walked along narrow roads lined with Broom on each side. It was wonderful.

Biggest regret of the day – not asking the older walker going in the opposite direction for his story…

 

11th May 2016 In Viterbo
Raining early but clearing then overcast -rain threatening for tomorrow…

Matteo, the owner’s son, came to prepare me a good breakfast and he was a smiling-faced 32 year old who had spent 10 years in China (I think his father had been the ambassador at the embassy there), studying Chinese medicine but he can’t practise in Italy as this type of treatment is not recognized… He is now helping his parents with their two B&Bs and it was interesting speaking with him.
Cappuch & little cake stuffed with ricotta in a nice bar.

Went off to post office as my card doesn’t work at all bancomats and that was a “commedia dell’arte” experience…a woman of probably my age was at the bancomat inside a glassed-in area for what seemed about 4 or 5 minutes, talking to her companion behind her, gesticulating to the machine, the spectacles constantly coming on and off, the hair which hadn’t moved constantly being put into place, all the time looking and then tapping on the screen, until finally she finished her transaction. The young woman who was then ahead of me went it and it was almost the same experience…
I went to visit the Prior’s Palace next door which is the main municipal building and decided to take the lift to the first floor (!). It was so slow in coming that when I got in I timed from the door closing to it opening on the first floor – 20 seconds. If I lived in Italy I would certainly need to adapt to a new rhythm of lifestyle (which would probably be quite beneficial for my health).

Back outside parking attendants were booking a couple of cars…

The city which has so much history and looks prosperous with flowers everywhere in the paved streets, outside shops and houses.  Quite lively with many young people.

The Priors’ Palace was a lovely, interesting and beautifully-decorated building ( with frescoes and much trompe l’oeil, painted ceilings, paintings, etc) of big gracious rooms with much history. It was free access to wander from room to room. In the council room, there was an actual meeting of the finance committee going on which looked like a still-life painting… In a horseshoe-shaped seating arrangement there were the presiding people at the top bench and others sitting on each side with one man continually explaining in a droning voice the information which was displayed on a big screen. While this was happening, the ones at the top bench were talking together, and the other attendees were either consulting their mobile devices or turning to speak to a neighbour or to people behind them…almost nobody was taking an interest in what the droning man was saying. Quite an interesting experience…and all the time visitors were wandering in and out… Could only be Italy.

Saw at least four groups of school children visiting the city, one I know to be from Naples, and another from Rome. As well a group sitting on the cathedral steps which was being addressed by a person and I was told they were a group doing their catechism in preparation for confirmation. Almost in every church I’ve gone to in the past few days there have been such groups.

I saw a fantastic haberdashery shop in the city centre with “Since 1930” in gold lettering on the glass door and with beautiful stock of all different sorts. I went in and spoke to the mother (the third generation of the family and about my age) and her son who will take over when she retires. She was knitting a beautiful complicated design (says she made it up herself) and said there is less clientele nowadays – “if the mothers don’t teach the children to do handcrafts…”. I asked the son whether he knew the stock well, “yes”, and knew how to knit like his mother, “not really”. Lovely smiling people but quite sad to see a disappearing way of life.

I visited several churches, many of Romanesque style in grey stone and beautifully sober inside. I took a ticket to visit the cathedral, its museum, and the Papal Palace and loggia. Saw the museum first and most interesting things were beautiful ecclesiastical vestments and an incredible Roman statue of the goddess of abundance with symbols of numerous breasts (or bull’s testicles!!) confirming this role.

The cathedral was bombed during the war and was restored afterwards but a much greater restoration than was necessary was undertaken to restore it to the original Romanesque building rather than the Baroque building it had become. I visited locked rooms (which had survived the WWII bombing). One had an incredible trompe l’oeil domed ceiling which was only 9 metres high but appeared to be much more (you’ve guessed that I love trompe l’oeil and I will be going to see a few of my favourites when, and if, I get to Rome).

Also we visited an area behind the altar which had been the end of the church with its Baroque altar when the church had been much longer (it survived the bombing) and a new curved end wall had been built in front of it in the “restored” church. All very interesting to see.

Viterbo is quite important for the church as it was the papal seat for many years around the 13th century. We visited the papal palace (still used by the bishop today) as well as the beautiful gothic loggia.

Look up Wikipedia if interested (see below) as it was in Viterbo that the papal conclave came into being after the death of Clement IV when another pope was not elected for 33 months because of political infighting. After 20 months, the municipality (who was financing this) took drastic measures by locking the cardinals in with a bread and water diet and removing the roof of the big palace hall.

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Papal_election,_1268%E2%80%9371

When I returned to the B&B I met two French pilgrims who had walked from Ventimiglia in a month and will be off at 5am as they are going further than me. Never have a day off. Also walked to Compostella but said that the atmosphere is different on the VF and more beautiful scenery but that the arrival in Compostella is stupendous…but I think we’ll have to wait to see what it is like in Rome…
I had a very mediocre dinner in a restaurant close by. Then I had to pack up to be on the road tomorrow for the last 5 solid days of walking – the holidaying & dilettante pilgrimage is over!!!

10th May 2016  Montefiascone to Viterbo
19.6km
A little overcast but also sunny and warm with a breeze (instead of rain which was forecast!)

(I have been told by a man in Missouri (!),  that the photo viewing problem probably depends on the device one is using, and that there is a plug-in which can be used but I have neither the expertise or the time to use it, so good luck!)

I left the hotel after a better breakfast than expected when the patron took the trouble to ask if I would prefer “salty” and then produced real bread and good cheese!
After getting through the rush-hour traffic outside the hotel (with cars coming out of the one-way street down from the old town, and cars from four other roads converging at all different angles, trying to cross one another and where I could just not work out who would have right of way, I just forced myself through the traffic as no one was going to wait for me), I walked through the arch and up to the piazza at the top of the old town where above an arch was the text “100km to the tomb of St Pierre” (in Italian of course). I had a cappuch as I knew there would be nowhere en route to get one and then I jokingly asked a man whether someone had verified the distance. He looked at me and said “it’s 100 km to Rome…”, so not much sense of humor there.

I thought about Sigeric and wondered if he had any idea how far it was to his destination or else his home.  I suppose each religious or other hostel  would give him information on the route ahead and where to pass by.  When one thinks of what modern “pilgrims” have at their disposition…  I suppose Gonzalo (whom I met last year in Orio Litto) who only had a piece of paper with the stage destinations where he should go written on it, and who followed the signage (but he would have done some wild detours…) and never phoned ahead, was the one I’ve met closest to the pilgrim spirit.

Then I had to continue up and through a sort of park with another church, a papal residence (12th century), the Tower of Pilgrims (with a modern day sculpture to pilgrims), and the promised view over the lake.  Then  down steps and cobbled street so I was a bit lost as I couldn’t see any signage when I saw young nuns getting out of two mini-buses.

Of course none of them knew which street I was on. I asked another woman which way the station was as I knew I had to end up near there and all she could say was “it’s a long way away”… Finally I saw the waysigns and was on my way again and quickly onto dirt/gravel roads through the outskirts of town (dogs still barking everywhere, so nothing changes) and into fields.

All day was off main roads and I didn’t even get lost once. Even walked on the original ‘basulato Romano’ on and off for a few kilometres which is one of the best-preserved examples of Roman road on the Via Francigena.

However there was a slight problem…the metal tips of my walking sticks kept sliding on the stones so I couldn’t push off on them correctly…such are the travails of a modern pilgrim as Sigeric would simply have had a good solid staff.
In the fields there was much hay being cut and baled.

There were fields of wheat as I walked up and down hills with lovely green views of the countryside and of course many types of road-side flowers.

I followed and zigzagged with a railway line, on all different road surfaces.  It’s amazing how one’s feet keep looking for the best surface to walk on…
After 11km I came to a spot where I thought I would see a thermal spring with some sort of structure around it, but it was simply a few pools (like swimming pools) with people roaming around in swimming costumes and robes when they weren’t in one of the pools.  Not really my cup of tea but there were many adepts.

It was then a hard slog into Viterbo.  I came out at a cemetery (one empty hearse and then another with a casket drove by) and I walked along beside a very busy road until I got to to a very big roundabout piazza named in honour of the Air Force fallen. I think that they will have to add “pilgrim fallen” to the name as it was almost impossible to make my way around the roundabout, as it had been to cross previous roads. At one point I was on a pedestrian crossing and a car which could have seen me for 50 metres or more wasn’t slowing and as I wasn’t sure if he’d stop, I hesitated and waved my sticks and he drove right past me looking very non-plussed! Be warned, pedestrian crossings in Italy are dangerous places!

I had telephoned earlier to a B&B in my hostel list (said it had telephone and wifi and when I phoned the owner confirmed a room with private bathroom), and she had said I should ask for directions to a piazza near her when I got to the gate through the walls. Who better to ask than a taxi driver just outside the walls? Didn’t have a clue & asked another who shrugged me off but realized I had said the name wrongly “grand fountain” instead of “fountain grand” and just waved in the direction of the city. Just inside I found a wall map of the city and got myself 3/4 of the way there & then asked again.

Francesca was lovely (as was the B&B) and gave me a wonderful map of this walled city (which had previously been given by the tourist office and she’d had it reproduced for guests) and marked a complete itinerary to visit the most important sights.

Viterbo a lovely walled city of Etruscan origin and was of a considerable size during the Middle Ages -it’s walls were 5km long in the 13th century.   It is well worth a visit.

I went out and walked around a wonderful medieval quarter with all buildings in grey stone and very well preserved (although as Viterbo suffered bombing in WWII many buildings had been restored since then).

I had a delicious dinner in a little restaurant just near my  lodgings and then fell into bed.

9th May 2016 Bolsena to Montefiascone

Supposedly 14km but I did 15.6

Overcast but fine all day.

(Am sorry some photos are not appearing correctly and am looking into this, but as I am not an expert in this technology…so I hope you are seeing this on a tablet and not a PC)

I woke up to bird songs outside as I was away from the street.  Had a surprise when I heard a thump and it was a cat, who had come from under another bed and jumped at the door handle, who must have slipped into the room when I’d left the door open earlier, so I quickly let it out.

I set off but stopped straight away for a cappuch in a good bar on the piazza (and I even succumbed to a delicious little cherry tart) but as I settled down to read welcome mails, I was devastated to hear news of a younger friend’s sudden death. Far from home, one feels so alone when such things happen but I will walk today in his memory, thinking of happy times spent together in the past. Had another cappuch just to sit for a little while…

An Irish friend sent me the following which gave me a good laugh (& this was before she knew I was now walking with some blisters…)

“Words of an Irish Prayer to accompany you …
Get down on your knees and thank God you’re still on your feet. (Now that can only be Irish, you’ll agree?).”

Out along the main road for 3 km & then on up, up, up on dirt roads until I was in a nature reserve (Parco di Turona). Bird calls, even cuckoos.

Visited the tiny chapel of the Madonna di Turona.

I caught up with the 30 plus Italian walkers from yesterday and they told me they were ending their walk at Montefiascone.

Came across a man living in a beautiful spot with views down over the lake & asked him about fording a stream further on & he said no problem!

Further on, through woods, fields, many wild flowers, then down an awful path (memories of Aulla to Sarzana…) & the stream to be forded was coursing down!! Have now learnt the Italian word for a ford – “guado”…may be useful to know this in later life. I studied the situation with some trepidation as rocks were everywhere and of all forms and sizes, and then I very gingerly made it from rock to rock, praying all the time I wouldn’t slip, and finally made it to the other side. Relief!

Bad paths back up & finally out into the open again. I wondered how the group of Italian walkers would get on with the fording…
As the path joined the end of a dirt road in a very rural setting with olive groves and views down to the lake, a man drove into his garage opposite a lovely house & garden & I asked him if he lived there. He said yes & he was a sculptor (not a farmer!) in churches so I thought he restored them. Not at all, he created new sculptures & said I could see 3 of his works in San Flaviano church and another outside the basilica in Montefiascone! He had a baseball cap marked with “Kansas” on and carried a couple of packets of pasta!

Just afterwards I was walking on a long section of original Roman paving with very big paving stones, a pleasure to walk on!

Further on I saw my first hay being cut, before coming to a junction where I met the Italian walkers coming from another dirt road who had obviously not forded the stream…  Along the main road a little and then up, up, up again along dirt roads until the outskirts of Montefiascone. I was surprised to see signs pointing to a lake as I knew I was more than 250m above the altitude of Bolsena…

I passed the San Flaviano church on the way (one of the highlights of the town) and it was open. It was built about 1020 of Romesque design at the crossing of 4 main roads but had a gothic facade added later, all in the typical dark stone of the region.

Inside their are some great frescoes although many have been lost and I saw what I think were the works of the sculptor (a font, a lectern with a winged bird, and a statue).

There is a well-known wine here (Est! Est!! Est!!!) and the German responsible for this name is buried in the church (* see story if interested below).  As for the signs to the lake, this is from where one can see the view to the Lake of Bolsena!

As I needed wifi and a bathroom, I didn’t want to stay in a hostel so I took a hotel just opposite the old gate into the old town. However the wifi didn’t work in the bedroom, only in the bar or common areas (so what’s new, this is Italy), so I caught up with some correspondence and then walked through the arch and up along the narrow and steep main street of the old town which was lined with little shops all the way along, and of course a gelateria with its own production. So, my friends, I have been sacrificing myself and thinking of you and trying gelati everywhere so I’ll be able to advise you where to get the best! This one was good.

I think people live so long here because they are constantly walking either up or down streets…
I went back to a restaurant on this street, recommended by the man in the gelateria, and had a delicious meal of wild boar stew (not in season but the owner said they make their own in season and freeze it as it’s so popular) with polenta and a green salad. All washed down with the local red wine. Est! Est!! Est!!

** As aGerman noblemen, Johannes Defuk, travelled he sent his servant on ahead to mark with ‘Est!’ all the establishments where good wine was served.  When he arrived in Montefiascone the servant found somewhere where it was of such good quality that he marked it ‘EST, EST, EST’, upon which his master is said to have imbibed so much that he drank himself to death. On the tombstone, reportedly the work of the servant, is inscribed ‘Here, on account of too much drink, my master lies dead’.  Lesson here…

8th May 2016  Acquapendente to Bolsena

20km
Fine weather but cloudy all day.

I have been told that some of the photos are not showing correctly for which I apologize (you would know that of course they appear correctly when I insert them) but I am working on fixing this…

Up late (as I was working to publish my blog until the early hours) and it was grey outside & it had rained, although it appeared to have stopped.
I went down to breakfast and there was the wonderful smiling Katia (who had gone to bed at 2:30 am) and all the tables in the 3 dining rooms were set up for the 100 people who would be coming for lunch! She is 60 years old and was born here as her parents had the hotel (and her 94 year old mother lives upstairs). I asked how she does it as she is the only cook and she replied “stancante” (exhausting)!!! Alberto, the younger man who turns his hand to everything, is her son. The remarkable thing, for me, is that she does everything with so much grace and good humor! She said that as I would miss next weekend’s remarkable Pugnaloni festival I must come back for another 3rd Sunday in May!

I set off quite late but decided, as suggested in the guide book for e.g. early on a Sunday, to take the main road option instead of wandering around a longer route just to be off the road, even though I wasn’t early (but it was a Sunday!).
I decided to have an early cappuch in the town as it was 10.5km to the next little town. I walked into a small bar which confirmed that Acquapendente is full of philosophers…the price of the coffee was listed according to politeness: €1.20 for “a coffee!”, €1.00 for “a coffee please” and €0.80 for “good morning, a coffee please”. Wonderful and the old man behind the bar had a lovely face.

I was quickly out onto the main road facing on-coming traffic but there wasn’t much of it and I could still look around me. As it was fairly flat with very small wooded hills in the distance, and fields of crops there wasn’t much to see. However there was a panoply of beautiful flowers of all sorts all along the way (I took so many photos that I will publish a separate post for those who are interested in spring flowers…).
I saw some lovely elderberry flowers which made me think of my friends Gilberte, Marianne, and Marie-Christiane, all of whom have given me delicious home-made elderberry cordial.

There was a pretty awful industrial area along one side of the road for a km or two.

I came across the strangest sight, trying to understand what it was, and then realized there were about 15 men in special chairs fishing in an artificial “pond”. I am wondering whether they were hoping to catch Sunday lunch. One man signaled to me that he had caught something!

When I arrived at a bar in San Lorenzo, I saw that I had saved 2km by walking along the main road which was great (& didn’t realize that it would be lost later by the inaccurately stated distances!). Then about 30 walkers passed in front of the cafe…help, were they all going to the hostel from which I’d received no reply to my email… Several huge motor bikes (Harleys?) with German number plates also drove by, as did many cyclists. Each time a group of cyclists came towards me on the road they all sent the warning wave down the line but I didn’t receive the Ciao chorus like I’d had last year, shame.

On a little further and there in the big central town (round) square with dozens of men sitting in bars or on park benches chatting together so I suppose all the women were home preparing Sunday lunch…

And then I saw my first view of Lake Bolsena laid out below, the largest European lake of volcanic origin. It seemed that the town was previously nearer the lake, and therefore marshy and less healthy, so it was moved to higher ground and became San Lorenzo Nuovo.

After this I moved onto small dirt roads (although there were often just small patches of concrete or bitumen on stretches which were probably problematical in rainy weather) and through fields.
I met the group of Italian walkers resting further along the path who told me they were going to Bolsena but I was relieved when they said they weren’t going to the hostel!

At one point, I saw electric power lines looped along and attached to trees and posts ending up at the electricity pole and I wondered if this were legal…

Arrived in Bolsena and the way markings took me down, down, down very steep little stone passageways and steps so perhaps I’d have been better off sticking to the main road… It is a very old city with many buildings in dark stone.

I found a room in a pensione which is very simple, very old-fashioned but very clean (separate bathroom and of course no wifi). I admired a beautiful flowering plant and the young woman (who looked like she’d come out of the convent opposite and who was reading a book with whole pages of text highlighted in different colours on “The theory of usefulness”, probably as a virtue…) said it was over 30 years old and always flowered so. She’d been born there and had never left. When I asked about the weather she went & got an electronic tablet, so some wifi…

As I entered and left the pensione “Salve” was carved into the stone entrance doorstep and I’m told it’s like a formal version of Ciao which can mean so many things. Lovely.

 

When leaving I asked the owner to stamp my pilgrim credenziale and when she asked whether I was going to Montefiascone or Viterbo, I confirmed the former as I had blisters. She laughed and said “tutti, tutti le hanno” – everyone has them and “if they are too bad you should take the bus”!
I went to visit the Santa Cristina church (look up Wikipedia to see about her and the miracle of the Eucharist in Bolsena) and in the church I found a wonderful statue to our own San Rocco, complete with red Wellington boots!

But more moving was the table in the nave set up with flowers and loaves of bread in honour of the first communion of 11 children this morning. I was told that the children had sat on the chairs near the table and that the table would be removed tomorrow. The church in Italy really has a future which I have seen in so many places over the past two years.

I walked around the old town as it was quite lively on a Sunday afternoon as everyone was out and about and the shops were open.

Then I bought a gelati (not the best) and walked down to the lake.
I had a recommendation from the woman in the pensione for a very typical restaurant (since generations, she said…) and I went there waiting for it to open at 7pm, and waited until I finally phoned and heard that Sunday was closing day, although it said Monday on the sign… So other people recommended another and I ate excellent fresh fish from the lake, good!
Oh, and I have two little blisters…can only think that my laces loosened as I walked (thank God this didn’t happen on my way to Radicofani) so will have to pay more attention to this. So, out with the Compeed…

Some special things for today:

Before I walked into San Lorenzo Nuovo I tried to take a photo of poppies growing along the top of a wall and then realized there were cherry trees behind them which already had hundreds of little fruit on the branches. Another bumper year for cherries, that makes three years in a row! And I also saw peaches growing already.

Friendliness & voluntary service with a smile in bars – such social hubs – & free wifi in the bar in San Lorenzo!

Highlight of the day: At one point two cyclists passed me on a little dirt road through fields and then turned right down-hill and I could see the first one go down the long slope hands-free with his arms stretched out horizontally and then waving them like wings while the second never lifted a hand from the handlebars. Was lovely to see and when I walked down the slope it was not the most even…so quite some skill needed for hands-free!

First view of Lake of Bolsena.

Another highlight of the day was the variety and quantity of different wild flowers I’d seen. The walk and views were not the most interesting, except for the lake, but the beauty beside the roads was amazing.

The beautiful table in Santa Cristina church for the first communion of 11 children.

Stupidity of the day…I had sent an email to book a hostel for this evening and hadn’t received a reply but assumed it would be OK. However on arriving in Bolsena I realized I’d not checked where it was and I’d passed it a km back (when will I use my “good old garden common sense” as my mother used to say?) but I found the little pensione in the historic centre which is in fact listed in my guide book! So nothing lost…