Wednesday, 19 October 2016

The end is nigh!

Canarra to Assisi – 14k

Today was another short walk and so I took advantage of getting up as late as I could without missing breakfast. At 9am I walked through into the dining room and found a feast before me, cold meats and cheese, yoghurt so, cereals, cake and lots of other scrummy things. Had I died and gone to heaven?

Renata appeared and I ordered my breakfast coffee and set too with making my fill. We both made small talk as once more I was observed eating my breakfast. Why do they have to do that, are the croissants so precious? I hastily ate my food and without wanting to seem too greedy, I ignored the gorgeous apple cake but did say I'll just take the croissant, wrapped in a napkin and left.  

I returned to the Piazza to record my journey and was soon off following a cycle track to Assisi. There was the threat of rain according to the weather forecast, it set to start at midday so I was hoping to arrive before it started. I followed a minor road to reach a crossroads and crossed over onto a no entry road except for residents and cyclists. Well that is what it said but none of the local people were taking any notice of it. It turned out to be a rat run to Assise and I was constantly moving to one side for fear of being mown down. As I neared the outskirts of the city I passed a memorial to Captain Ibbotsen, an RAF pilot who had lost his life in November 1944. There was no indication of the circumstances but I paused to pay my respects before moving on.

4K from Assise a heavy shower started and I promptly took shelter under and oak tree to put my waterproof trousers and jacket on. Once fully attired Inset off and in no time at all Inwas sweating buckets in the humid air. Thankfully the showers were intermittent and during the dry periods I managed to role my sleeves up and open my jacket to get some air. 

As I neared Assisi  the low clouds started to dissipate and the truly breathtaking place started to appear before my eyes. Initially I had planned to take a more direct route into the city but I felt it was appropriate to extend the walk and record the path along the base of the city from one side to the other. It was a wise choice because as I turned right to walk along a busy road, my path became a tranquil traffic free slope with the majestic beauty of the St Francis church and monastery dominating the hillside. Once in the city I set off to the church to see for myself. It is a sad to see so muck security around these places now but after the sad death of the priest who was stabbed in France, it is the times we now live in. 

I placed my rucksack on the table to be searched and told the armed soldiers that there was just smelly dirty clothes in there. “No knife, no knife” he uttered more than once. Non I repeated just as often. I had my fingers crosses because I was telling a little white lie, I had my penknife but I don't think that counted.

I was conscious as I entered the fresco adorned church that I was wearing shorts but I did not get shouted at and went inside. It was just a brief visit as I planned to return the next day when Claire, my walking companion for the next two weeks arrives.

After paying my respects, I set off in search of my accommodation and a decent meal and a glass of red wine before a siesta.

This journey concludes the footpath that the Cistercian monks may have taken in the 12th century. It is known that they walked from abbey to abbey every year to attend their General chapter meeting, a sort of annual general meeting, to discuss the affairs of their monasteries. The meeting would have taken place at Citaeux Abbey, Dijon France and they would have walked there. 

I have retraced that possible route from the most northerly Cistercian abbey in Melrose, Scotland and extended the path from Dijon to the place where the Cistercian General Chapter meeting now takes place annually, Assisi.

Maybe one day I will walk the whole route in one go and if I do maybe, just maybe I may be seen wearing a white habit!

And finally a special thank you to the person who helped in sponsoring this adventure, you know who you are! 

Tuesday, 18 October 2016

A lazy, lazy day.

Bevagne to Cannara.    8.8k

My accommodation was perfect, toasty warm and a large balcony to watch the sun set and see the early morning sun. I was reluctant to leave and could have sat having my breakfast on my balcony if any was being served. I took my breakfast voucher down to the local bar and swapped it for an espresso and a croissant. With both in hand, I set to transform my croissant into a lovely egg sandwich curtesy of a hard boiled egg I had and my trusty Swiss Army knife. Once they were both consumed I returned for a second helping and repeated the previous task……I was in heaven. My first hard boiled eggs since I had left blight over two weeks ago. The only thing I was really missing, apart from my wife, and children, and Grandson, well you get the idea, was the ability to brew a cup of mint tea when I wanted one.

It was approaching 10.30 by the time I picked up my bag and walked out of the door. I returned to the locati n of a Roman Temple to take a photograph as I was totally dumbfounded to see it had been transformed into the shell of a modern building. It never ceases to amaze me what the Italians do with their historically architecture, they really have far too much to preserve all of it. This temple had no information what so ever about it, it was that important!

Photograph taken I once again wound my way through the quite narrow streets to leave the village. My route was a simple one, I just followed the Forno Tippo along a quiet track, taking the odd opportunity to capture pictures of the Appenine mountains I would be skirting along in three days time. My peaceful thoughts were occasionally interrupted when frenzied dogs suddenly pounced at the fence of houses, barking frantically and scaring me half to death. Why do they have to do that?

By midday I was entering Cannara and with nearly two hours before I could check in a meandered round the streets getting my bearings. Now I have come across some quite places before, but I only saw about ten people as I paddled round and then took an hour to drink another coffee and write some blog notes. At 2pm and before my bottom got any number from sitting down too long, I made my way to the hotel and checked in. It turned out to be a 3star huge pile with me as the only guest……where was everyone, were they all zombies living in this place?

At 7pm after a siesta and writing more blogs I decided to see what delights Cannara had to offer in the evening and was there any more people alive. Well, there were more people alive but not much more. It transpired that every restaurant was closed, my hotel was not serving food and so I traipsed off to Sid’s pizzeria. My luck was definitely not in, it was just a fast food pizza joint and all they could offer me was two pieces of reheated mushroom pizza! I washed it down with a beer and having seen the supermarket next door open, I hastily paid and left to stock up on food goodies…….It was shut!

I knew there was a coop on the other side of town and wandered round the streets in that direction hoping to find a chip shop or a Wetherspoons open. I saw neither but there was at least three ice cream bars open. I arrived at the coop………it was shut!

I retraced my steps in the direction of my hotel and in shear desperation of some food, made a beeline for the Bluesky ice cream bar and bought two croissants and a bag of crisps to make some crisp sandwiches for my tea. I went to sleep hungry.

A late start and a short walk.

Bastardo to Bevagne      14.6k

My accommodation, the Hotel Paradiso served my needs well. The room was warm, the bed was comfy and I'd been able to have a decent two course vegetarian evening meal. Breakfast on the other hand was a different affair. I was the only guest and I'm of the firm opinion that Italians really don't do breakfast. On my table was a plate of various biscuits and baclava and some dried toast that comes in packets. I did have a choice of fruit spreads that I could add to my toast though. Needs must and I ate what I could and after obligatory two espressos I was packed and ready to go.

The route from Bastardo took me along a primary road and was not too busy for the time of the morning. Once again I was blessed with warm weather as I sauntered along the road passing along vineyards and olive groves. Every now and then I would get the distinguishing  aroma of wine fermenting in their vats, a smell I could be around all day.

After 4k I was off piste and trying to establish a route through farm land. I'd passed a landowner tending his olive trees and with only a cursory nod of the head in acknowledgement I knew I was ok on the path. My journey then took me through a farmyard with a large barn full of very curious young cattle, I don't think they've seen any walkers go past them before. I descended into the valley, my path meeting up with a road below or so I thought. Once again I came to a dead end, well the track continued, but will fall trees across it and clear evidence that it had not been used for some time I retraced my steps. I'd passed a bird hide at the top of a 10 metre scaffold tower so bravely and probably rather foolishly I climbed the ladder with my pack on to see if I could make out any tracks from the top. Not a dickie bird could be seen and know dickie birds either. I gingerly climbed down and walked up and down the track until eventually I saw a faint track which I decided to follow.

Eventually I arrived at the road and once again proceeded to climb up out of the valley. It was slow going but I was in the shadow of the trees and soon I was in my own little world of thoughts and dreams, savouring the peace and tranquility of the space around me. On the outskirts of the Bevagne I came across a church sat proudly looking down to the village. I was not able to check into my accommodation until 16.00hrs so I took advantage to take some photos and to sit on a chair that I felt had been placed there just for me. With my feet up and the weight off my back I just sat there enjoying the landscape ahead of me. I could have said silence, but less than a kilometre from the square a motorbike race was taking place around a field and the air was filled with the dreadful drone of the machines as they chased each other around the track. 

After 20 minutes I could stand it no more. I had planned to take a direct route to the village but the thought of walking down to and passing the dreadful racket I could hear where I was, filled me with dread. I chose instead to extend the route slightly and continued along the top of the valley before taking a right turn along via Sant’ Antonio. One of the houses along the road had a fresco of St Anthony of Padua set into the eves of the wall. I stopped and being an Anthony myself took time to reflect on my journey thus far. The final leg of the journey took me along the narrow medieval streets, with washing hanging high up from windowsills and the wafts of fresh meals being cooked. At the Romanesque church of St Micheal Archangel my journey ended and I went in search of a beer and well deserved sit down in the shade.

Up a mountain to come down a hill!

Masa Martana to Bastardo – 15th October 2016 24.3k

Well it was hard to leave today. I had had a good night sleep, managed to get my walk clothes washed and dried by keeping the heating on in the bathroom and consumed a decent breakfast. Well I say decent, I had planned to have some fried egg sandwiches after finishing the fruit salad I had made the day before, but I'd bought sugared croissants by mistake. I also say dried my clothes but my walk socks were still damp. After warming the croissants that I did not eat, I took advantage of the oven still being warm, switched it off and hung my socks on the inside of it and closed the door. Not only were my socks dry to put on but they were toasty warm. If anyone chooses to do this after reading this, please make sure the oven is switched off! I cannot be held responsible for you cooking your socks….

I'd had pre planned my route using satellite imagery and chose to follow a footpath up to the top of Mt Martano which then turned into a cycle route to Bastardo. Easy peasey, lemon squeezy. My first immediate hurdle was when I turned into the street that led me up there and I noticed a sing that stated Mt Martano ristoranta 11k. WHAT, what, 11k uphill…..you've got to be kidding me!

Well needless to say I continued the uphill trawl, initially I had not been able to see the top of the mountain due to the low cloud level, but as I ascended in the morning heat that soon had me dripping with sweat, the clouds dispersed and the sun beat down. In fairness the route wasn't too bad, once the Tarmac road had given way to the now familiar white stone track it was ok. The track meandered around the hillside all the time steadily climbing, I was on an unpaved road so a few cars passed me by and secretly was yearning for the offer of a lift but only to be able to refuse it……honest!

To left of my was a deep valley down to the town and to the left of that was the summit of the mountain with two very large and out of place telecommunications towers, but I guess they have to be there. Eventually after two hours I reached the crossroads and the cycle track that would take me to Bastardo. On occasions when I was facing the wrong direction there was a cool breeze that briefly gave me goose pimples but it did not last long enough for me to add an extra layer. As I neared the summit I was praying for the restaurant to be open, I thought it should be as it was a Saturday. My luck was in, every now and then I caught the smell of a log fire and although there were a few holiday chalets dotted around not were emitting smoke. The final corner brought the relief I was looking for when I spied smoke rising above the trees and the tell tale glimpse of the restaurant, I'm sure my pace increased slightly and before long I was walking through the door and ordering my usual double espresso. 

All good things must come to an end and after a quick photo of the roaring fire I slipped out of the door to climb the last few metres to take some breath taking views of the valley below me and the Appenine mountain range to the right.

Soon I was descending the long road down to the valley far below. Once again I had cars passing me by but this time I was smiling and nodding as they passed me by…..smug git I'm sure they uttered! In the distance I could hear the tingle of bells and knew that somewhere around the sheep or the goats would be grazing on the lush vegetation and forest floor. As I rounded a sharp bend the owners of the bells appeared…..four white cows slowly munching their way up the hill. Now the nearest field was about 6k down the hill, the nearest one up the hill was about 3k, so why were the cows coming up the mountain? Sadly despite being asked no one could explain.

I skirted around them and their deposits before arriving in Giano dell Umbria 11c, another sleepy place. It looked quite quaint so I decided to explore only to find that their was only about four streets around the circumference of the main piazza and the church at the top of a small hill. 

I made my way back to the main road and although I was starting to get weary I was equally keen to get to the hotel I had booked and so pressed on. By know I had 20k under my be
belt and my feet were telling me that they had had enough, I continued. I was keen to stay off any roads with traffic on so elected to meander through a sleepy hamlet with only three houses in but in essence never gained anytime or distance. Once more on the main road, I past the cemetery which was rather big given the size of the village I had passed through and then turned left. I don't recall the last 5k, I think I was either asleep or somewhere else, but just before 3.30pm I rolled into the village and to my hotel. 

The town grew around an inn and stabling station in the 17th or 18th centuries, and was once known as Osteria del Bastardo (i.e. "Bastard's Inn"). In the 1920s the name was shortened to its current form, it  has been noted for its unusual place name. Currently there are only about 1,000 people living there.




The only way is.........up!

Todi to Masa Martana – 14th Oct 2016 19.2k

Well there was a huge storm the night before but I had a fantastic, cosy and warm nights sleep. I woke late because I assumed it was a short walk today. Breakfast time turned out to be an interesting and humorous affair. I sat down to a fine cold buffet spread including cereals. I am always cautious over any milk offerings as I detest UHT milk. If I am not sure it's fresh I avoid at all cost. I chose the cereal but added yogurt and it worked very well. I'd asked for a double espresso and thrown my landlady into a tis, she had no idea how to provide my request from the coffee machine she was using. Aldo, she cried. He appeared and she told him off my request and in no time I had what I had asked for. Then the fun started. I was the only guest having breakfast and I think the landlady thought I looked  either very dodgy or she has had some bad guests because she just hovered around looking busy. In my peripheral vision I saw her tidy the counter although it was tidy. Then she opened the draws of the fridge and rearranged the contents, she wiped the sink, she wiped the counter top, she never stopped tidying until I left!

I was a bit sad to leave the hotel despite being aware that if I'd booked online I could have got a cheaper deal. I walked out of the city through more Roman gateways and called into the coop for some supplies. I'm always aware of the looks I receive I when I enter places like this, it's almost like I've just landed my spaceship in the car park. I'm reaffirmed that I am lucky to be doing this and some people will plainly not leave the place they are born in.

With plenty of water and some extra goodies to keep me going I set off in the direction of the motorway the E45 hoping I could either get under it or over it. Thankfully it was the latter rather than the former. Once I'd passed under my path started to climb up the valley to Chiona along a relatively quiet country road. After passing the village I turned left onto yet anger of my black routes / paths that I am having such adventures on. This time I was on the right path, it head down the hillside past a building on the left, around it and then descended the small valley. I turned round the house and was met with the occupants, Priva…I uttered? Blah, blah, blah came the response. I pointed to my map of where their house was and my intended route, but the lady of the house pointed at my feet and then the field and I realised my intended root was across a plugged field. There was a route and I could have gone that way but given I am writing the walk for others to follow it is preferable that the route is easy to manage and follow. I chose to turn back and return the way I had come and find an alternate route

I passed through Chiona once more with my new route showing that in about 2k the road naturally turned left and if I went straight on I could follow a route almost direct to Masa Martana. Now I have never been surprised when my intended route has a house on it or it's a dead end but  time a totally new road appeared. I say new, it clearly was an road that had been there along time but according to my map which was printed in 2013, it did not exist and nor did it on my GPS. Was I in another dimension, was I dreaming? I decided to test it out and turned right and yes it was an actual solid road.

I was now following signs to Monticello and I steadily descended to valley knowing full well that was go down must come up. True to form I then turned right following new signs to the hilltop village of Torrececcona and that was when the road started to climb and climb and climb. As I looked right down the valley I could clearly see the path I was intending to take but I guess passing through somebody's garden is not always the right thing to do.

The tarmac road ended and became a white gravel unpaved road and I continued to climb. I was begging to wonder if I would come across some pearly gates or some angels playing harps by the road side but before any off that could happen the road levelled out and I came to a t-junction and turned left away from the village of Torrececcona. 

Either side of me now were olive trees and after stopping discretely by the roadside to make myself comfortable (have a wee) I picked one of the black olives off a tree to try. First I cleaned it as best I could from any possible insecticides that may have been used and then I popped into my mouth. Now I really like olives but to say this was bitter was an understatement, I spat it out almost immediately and tried to alleviate the taste with plenty of water.

In the distant now I could see Masa Martana, another village at the top of a hill. I'd dome my research using google maps and satellite imagery and knew there was a route into town from the base of the rock it was sat on. Ha, how wrong I was! I followed my intended course down a very evident track that appeared to turn into someone's garden. On closure inspection and with two dogs barking and snarling at me I saw that the track skirted the boundary of the property, so I set off in that direction. At the bottom it came to a stream and a deserted house with an 1872 plaque on it. I about faced and eventually found the actual track and carefully crossed the stream into a quarry. There was evidence of an old very broken wooden bridge which confirmed that I was going the right way. Not only was I now travelling into a quarry but a building site as there was serious maintenance work and rebuilding of the very high stone wall around this part of the village. Rather than reface the dogs I crept through the building site cabins and returned to the road. 

In relative safety now and knowing that I was going to get to Masa Martana without any further problems I pressed on up the hill. The final leg of the stage taking me through the old gates to Piazza Garabaldi and where Elizabeth my accommodation host for the night was waiting for me.

I was greeted warmly and shown to my very own apartment for the night complete with heating I could control, a kitchen where I could cook my own meal and a bowl full of fresh fruit to indulge on. I set about making myself at home as soon as Elizabeth had left.

Monday, 17 October 2016

A short walk but nowhere to stay....hrmpf!


Acquloreto to Todi – 13th Oct 2016. 12.6k

Well it was another uncomfortable night, I'd asked for the heating to be turned on but instead was offered a glass of red wine and a bottle of water. The owners made sure the air conditioning was on to heat the room but it would have been better to just huddle round a lit matchstick all night. Needless to stay for the second night running I slept in my clothes to keep warm and surprisingly I woke with a start when the alarm went off. I'm sure I could have slept most of the morning for some reason.

I though it quite amusing that not long after I got out of bed the radiators came on, now why could that not have happened last night I mused? I'd requested an early breakfast and was pleased to find that it was a big improvement on the previous mornings meagre affair. Once again I made the most of what was on offer and even relieved some bits and pieces just in case I got peckish to Todi.

Once again I was going off piste and following a black path on the map that met up with an unpaved road. I scanned the route on a satellite map on my iPad before I left and knew my route disappeared into the woods and what happened then I would find out later.

I have been well trained by my parents and I left putting my dirty shoes on until I got outside much to the amusement I'm sure of my host. With my laces tied tightly to avoid getting blisters I  set off to the Strada? The route was easy going as is the usual case when I am following a decent trail that actually exists. Part way down the track I came across a Priva notice attached to a tree and I was unsure whether it was stating the woods were private or the path ahead was. I soon found out…my route continued all time downhill but generally going in the right direction until it took a sharp right turn and I stopped at a chain across the path. Bum, it's that path that's private I told myself. I about turned no retraced my journey up to where I'd seen a track disappear into the woods.

Finally at the junction and extremely warm by now, I dispensed with my jumper and set off on this new track. It was very narrow, steep and very slippery underfoot with all the loose rocks and stones. This was definitely one of the black tracks on my map. I checked my GPS and my map to ensure that it was the correct way and it appeared correct although there was a watercourse to cross on the map. Thankfully when I arrived at that point it turned out to be a natural rock bridge with a fast flowing stream running through it. I pressed on and once again started ascending the hillside.

By the time I got to the top I was bathed in sweat and very out of breath, I paused and took advantage of having a decent drink to ease the 1.5 kilos I was carrying in water.Thirst quenched I set off once again, this time in the relative comfort of a road to follow all the way to the outskirts of my destination. The last few kilometres along the main road into the town after I had ascended the hillside as Todi like many places is perched at the top of a hill.

From the valley floor below Todi is dominated by the beautiful round church of Saint Marie d’Consalazione and the Duomo. My route took me past the Saint Marie and it is Tully spectacular inside, almost a mini St Pauls Cathedral in London. After a brief time inside I ventured off to the Duomo to finish the days walk. Passing the tourist information office I grabbed a street map and set of to the main square via the Roman gates into the city, once again all the time ascending to the highest point. The main piazza is dominated by the Romanesque style of the Town Hall, the side of the theatre with its tower and the Duomo. I'd arrived relatively early due to it being just a short walk and after some time in the cathedral I set off to find free wifi and a coffee. With both in hand I made a one of my B&B address and how to ask in Italian, “I have arrived, pleas may I check in?”

I wandered up and down Via Cavour looking for my abode, but I could not find it despite close scrutiny of all the narrow passages it could have been on. Eventually I did a very unman thing, I went back to the café I had just left as there was an American women in there who ,lived locally. I introduced myself and explained that even though I was a man please could I ask if one of them knew my accommodation address. My request was met with squirrels of
excitement and lots of questions about what I was doing. After a brief but interesting interrogation and the handing over of two Abbeywalks business cards, I was offered a high 5 and respect which I accepted. With directions in hand I went off to my abode only to find no one was home. It was after 2pm so possibly siesta time, I text a message to the mobile number and after no response plucked u courage to ring. Pronto cam the obligatory response, I repeated my Italian phrase about arriving and could I check in……..blah blah blah came the response in Italian. I plaintively utter..non comprenda, only to have the reply of blah blah blah in Italian but I thought I head him utter in 15 minutes. In hindsight I think I was hearing things.

It was getting cold by now and a storm was brewing. I was very obvious as I loitered in the doorway in my shorts and t-shirt with a house on my back. After 15 minutes the storm let rip and the heavens opened, I dashed under a restaurant canopy to take shelter from the torrential rain, but all the time watching the doorway for anyone arriving. After a further 20 minutes and no arrival I as getting really cold and so donned my waterproof trousers and jacket to try to keep warm. At 3pm I was not a very happy bunny, having been in the city for nearly three hours. I trusted to my gut feeling and head off to the tourist information that was open my now and asked if they knew of some where cheap to stay in town. The lady behind the counter, in her late 50’s or early 60’s, dressed all in black, very very slim, and heavily pierced all over and that was just what I could see, was very helpful. In very slow and deliberate English she mentioned the Hotel Flora behind the building.

I set off to see if I could find a deal. Initially the door was locked but after ringing the door bell the landlady arrived and in my fine Italian asked in they had a Camera Singola for a notte and quanta costa? She held u six finger and said €60, this exceeded my budget for the day but I was desperate. 

I handed over my passport and was shown to a very comfortable and warm room…..I was as happy as pig in ?!£&.

Tim from Cumbria in Umbria!


Civitello del Lago to Acqualoreto, Tuesday 12th October 2016 – 11k

Well to stay I was very cold in the Agriturismo would be an understatement, with no heating on it was an uncomfortable night and there was no food being served, so I ate all my meagre supplies and put on most of my clothes to sleep.

I was looking forward to breakfast but again I was to be disappointed as it was a meagre affair. I was reminded of what my Italian friend Carlo told me recently that not even Italians understand Italians! I asked my host for an espresso doppia (a double espresso) and was greeted with a bemused look. “A café grande”? was the response. Not wishing to enter any further confusion I just replied “Si” hoping I was not going to get an americano – I didn't thankfully. With four half slices of bread, some home made jam and two pieces of cake, I stuffed my face and paid the bill. Thankfully the advertised price of €60 which I'd have been horrified to pay was not requested, but €40 was. A suitable review on booking.com will be written.

The sun was shining today but in the shade it was definitely cool enough to have a jumper on. "Halfway up the 2k ascent to Civitella del Lago my jumper was off. Civitella was a very nice, quaint medieval village with breathtaking views across the valley from every direction. I called into the local café for an extra shot of espresso, a marmalade croissant for second breakfast and added two litres of water and some crème waffles just in case I needed some extra energy.

With breakfast over I headed out of the village and was soon in the middle of the woods as I steadily ascended yet another tree filled valley. The path was easy to follow, a white stone track with the now familiar GR signposts. I always find it strange to see cars on these tracks especially as they are not usually four wheeled drive jobbies. I passed such a car and then came across the owner scrabbling about in the undergrowth, I assumed looking for mushrooms or other such delights that grace the countryside.

I pressed on, eventually to reach the top and skirted the hillside before a pick up truck came my way making me move to one side to let it pass. I completed this manoeuvre one my time as it came back my way to descend the hill and the same direction I was now following. Five minutes later and deep in thought admiring the view and taking pleasure in the crunch of the horse chestnut cases and fruits below my feet, the truck returned making me move to one side again as it struggled to grip the muddy, stony track.

Once again I was rewarded with a breathtaking view down a small valley as I reached a clearing and my journey now took me down a very narrow, steep, slippery, stony track. On my map and GPS I was once again off piste and relying on the GR signs when I came across them and the contour of the land to identify where I was. More than once I went one way when in actual fact it was the other way, but I guess that is to be expected when you are trying to map out another new footpath for others to follow.

Eventually I arrive at the village of Mozzero and again I was faced with trying to find the track. I knew where I wanted to be, I was within metres of the path but I could not make it out anywhere. Again this is fairly typical of some of the paths I am trying to follow. I gave up the n frustration and retraced my steps to take what are now familiar white roads on the path and in reality little more than up aced tracks used by cars. On the outskirts of the village I came across an elderly lady and a young bearded man and British Land Rover in the garden. I promptly asked who it belonged to and the lady was from America and retired to the village and the young man – Tim was from Cockermouth in the Lake District of England. We chatted a little and he pointed out that in the village I was heading to, there was not only a good restaurant but on Wednesday night they have a foreigners night. It's a shame I was not hanging around.

Tim gave me directions to the village of Acquloreto and true to his word I was soon on the right path once more and within less than an hour I was happily walking into the centre of the village and the end of a good day. I took advantage of a seat around a monument in the sun, took my shoes off and emptied them of quite a lot of detritus that had made its way into my shoes. Tomorrow is another day and hopefully my Agriturismo tonight will turn out to be much improve Do!