Category: Italy

David has always been keen on cycling and big fan of cycling. One evening, while drinking a particularly nice red wine from Montepulciano, Helen, David, Diane and I came up with the idea of a road trip to northern Italy so as to experience some of the great Giro d’Italia road race. The Giro is second only to the Tour de France in terms of significance in world cycling. It is a multi-stage race typically run over 23 days, mostly in Italy. The very best riders in the world compete for honours and the overall leader gets to wear a pink jersey. The Giro was started in 1908 by La Gazzetta dello Sport, the sports newspaper. This was printed on pink paper, I have no idea why they chose pink paper, but this is why the leader wears pink.

First job was to get to Italy. David spends much of his time in an electric wheelchair now. This can be loaded into the back of a specially converted van, imaginatively called a Wheelchair Adapted Vehicle or WAV. The chair runs all the way to the front so that David is in the normal position of the passenger seat. This all works well. To get the wheelchair through the WAV it has to be empty. Two seats at the rear are folded up and turned around. The wheelchair runs up a ramp at the back and while Helen secures the chair in the passenger position, Diane and I load all the luggage and open the seats up. Finally the ramp is raised, the back door closed and we are good to go. After a few days we started to get very good at this.

Overnight ferry from Hull to Rotterdam and then a night by the Rhine River. Approaching the hotel at Rüdesheim am Rhein, the satnav indicated we had 1.5 km to go but also that this would take over 30 minutes. The conundrum was resolved when we rounded a corner and came across the ferry. This was a fun way to end the day and Rüdesheim proved to be a delightful place to spend the evening.

By evening the next day we were overlooking the Bodensee Lake from the Hotel Lilienberg on Swiss side at Ermatingen. This was a very nice hotel but of course, being Swiss, it cost a fortune. From there we crossed over the Alps. The mountains were overcast and foreboding. After many hairpins in the mist we descended into Italy and arrived at the lovely and comfortably old Hotel Risi, right on the banks of Lake Como. That night, to celebrate our arrival in Italy, we dined on Pizza, red wine and ice cream.

Finally, we were getting close to the Giro. A short and easy drive took up to Cassano Magnogo where the stage for that day was scheduled to finish. The Giro is a terrific spectacle. Roads, villages and whole towns get shut down when the cyclists arrive. Many hours earlier the roads are marked off and banners hung from railings, windows and trees. The first spectators arrive as roadside vendors and officials start to get organised. Local cyclists ride up and down the road enjoying the lack of traffic and the building anticipation. A long caravan of advertisers vehicles precedes the riders. This entourage of colourful vehicles is a good ten minutes in passing. A lone police motorcyclist rushes past, blue lights flashing and horns blaring. He waves and the assembled crowd cheer. Excitement starts to build. The streets are lined with enthusiastic people all ready to cheer for their favourite riders. More arriving every minute. More police cars. More sirens. Then the first of the team cars. Then we hear the helicopter. We know it is filming the leading group. Closer and louder. The crowds erupt as the first riders come round the corner. These are the final few hundreds of metres of the stage. The competitors have been battling all day. Hours of flat out pedalling and jockeying for position. Sometimes it all comes down to the very last section and the width of a tyre on the line. We have a reasonable position by the roadside. Some kind spectators have moved aside so that David can see past them. We can see what is going on but we don’t really know what is going on. Later we will use the internet to find out who actually won. Just here and now we experience the moment, enjoy the atmosphere, and marvel at the athletes. Faces locked in grimaces of concentration they turn themselves inside out pushing for the line. A few minutes later comes the main peloton. This sort of race is very much a team sport and these guys have spent their everything trying to keep the team leaders in the first group. Finally and possibly most desperately, come the stragglers. The guys who are having a bad day or who spent themselves too early. No prizes for them but they still get cheered as they push determinedly to cross the line in time to avoid elimination.

Later, back at the Hotel Risi, David planned our next day at Bergamo. This time we avoided the crowds at the finish and instead headed to a corner, not so far from the finish, at the end of long straight. It was also on part of a loop around the town so the race would actually come past the same point twice. We got there early and set up so that we had a terrific view down past the shops and offices. We also found a nice bar for a couple of beers to help pass the time. When the race arrived we could stare straight into the riders’ faces as they pushed down the road. I busied myself taking photos while everyone else cheered and shouted. The day before it had been cold and raining. The crowds were a little difficult to deal with and we could not get a really good view. This time, the weather was warm and sunny, we had a brilliant view point and beer. An hour or so later, the race came past for the second time. Yet again we had the perfect viewing position and by the time we left we were all feeling pleased with ourselves. That evening we drove along the picturesque shores of Lake Garda to the Hotel Villa Enrica in the holiday town of Riva del Garda.

Next day the wheels came off our well laid plans. Not literally, but almost. The brakes of the WAV were making horrible noises. Investigation at the local garage showed new parts were needed. In the meantime we were stuck. Fortunately, the plan for the day was a rest day and the following day the Giro was coming right through Riva del Garda. So all we had to do was sit tight and let it all happen. The weather was beautiful, the mountains were spectacular and the lake glittered in the sun. Paddle boarders, dingy sailors and even the odd swimmer were dotted around the lake although the majority of people seemed to content to bask and the sun, drink beer and eat ice cream. Helen and I had a brief shot of swimming in the lake. We did it but it was very cold. The swim was short and we felt no great urge to repeat it. In the evening a massive thunderstorm rolled in and the pent up heat of the day exploded around us. Sheltered on our balcony we could enjoy the spectacle of moody, grumbling mountains while finishing up a glass of wine.

The Giro came to town. Everything shut down. The road was closed. Barriers went up and we put yet another brilliant plan into action. We went to the bar. I particularly liked this plan. It had been well thought out and rehearsed. We went to the bar, ordered drinks and sat under the awning watching the race on a large screen television. One Aperol spritz and a few peanuts later, we could see the race would be arriving soon so we turned out chairs around. Having cleverly chose a bar right on the actually road that the race was using, we could simply move a little and we had prime position seating. After it was all over, we took another beer before wandering further into town for celebratory ice creams.

The fixes to the WAV were delayed while parts arrived. We had to skip a stage of the Giro but, eventually, we were back on the road again. Now we headed to Venice. It is a rather odd place and even after a couple of visits I do have rather mixed feelings about the place. However, quite rightly, it should be on most people’s bucket list and this was the case with David. From landward, you approach Venice across a long bridge, Ponte della Libertà, at the end of which are several car parks. Fortunately one of these was happy to give us prime position so that we could unload the wheelchair. It was a good start but twenty minutes later we hit a problem

The boats were on strike. Helen asked at the information desk about wheelchair access to the Piazza San Marco. This is one of the most famous places to go in Venice and on the opposite side to where we were parked. The city is built on 180 small islands connected by 400 or so arched bridges making a boat by far the easier way to get around. In fact, we were told, a boat is the only practical way to get around with a wheelchair. So, utterly impossible, because the boats are on strike. Now, Helen likes a challenge and she does not like being told she cannot do something. So, as she then explained to me, in a rather expletively laden and dramatically delivered sentence, we would carry the damned chair if needed. And we did. I lost count of how many bridges we climbed. One early and particularly long bridge over the Grand Canal we were helped by two burly policemen. This was encouraging. Elsewhere, quite a remarkable number of passers-by stopped to lend us some muscle power. We pushed and pulled and heaved and sweated and, some three hours later, arrived at the Rialto Bridge. David was pleased and the rest of use definitely felt a sense of achievement. After a couple of hours of touristing we came across a lone ferry still running to Tronchetto – an artificial island that is mostly a big car park. This made the return trip much easier. From Tronchetto the ‘Venice People Mover’, a monorail, took us back to our original car park.

Next day we headed to the very top, right-hand corner of Italy to catch the penultimate stage of the Giro, a time trail in the mountains. The lovely alpine village of Tarvisio is tucked up in the Julian mountains right on the borders of both Austria and Slovenia. The time trial started here and the riders were set off at one minute intervals to ride 19 km up the fiercely steep Monte Lussari. Just outside the village, we found a perfect spot by the cycle track and set up a picnic. Here we could sit in the sunshine watching the world’s greatest cyclists going past us one at a time while we nibbled some cheese and sipped wine. Unfortunately it was not such a good day for the Welsh cyclist Geraint Thomas. He started the time trial leading the Giro and looking set for an epic victory. Painfully he lost 26 seconds to Primož Roglič, which cost him the lead. At the conclusion of the final stage, next day, their positions were confirmed with the Slovenian Primož overall winner and Geraint second.

The last few days of our road trip took us back through the scenic mountains of Austria to Germany. We made a detour through the Black Forest and then north into the Netherlands. Then the ferry to Hull and back to England where the first thing we noticed was that it had started raining.

It was a four day ride to Rome. Once back onto the Italian mainland we headed straight up into the mountains. The route then was roughly up the center of the country taking in numerous national parks. The hills and countryside were marvelous. Pretty little villages, winding country roads, spectacular scenery. Increasingly we made use of agriturismo. A combination of the Italian words agricoltura (agriculture) and turismo (tourism). Generally an agriturismo is a farm that will receive guests for overnight stays. These can make great places to stay. Often they feel much more genuinely Italian than the more commercial hotels. Often they are in more remote an interesting places out in the countryside. Often they come up with the most lovely local wine and food – even for vegetarians. Overall, agriturismo, can make a really interesting and cost-effective way of getting around.

Breakfast in Italy, especially southern Italy, tends to be a very sweet affair. Sugar and Caffeine. We were greeted one morning with the proud statement “we have four types of cake”. Croissant often feature. They are heavily dusted with icing sugar and when you bite into them you discover a thick filling of jam. Biscuits, dried and in plastic wrappers. Jams and chocolate spread. Yoghurt – sweet fruit yoghurt. Occasionally some fresh fruit. The coffee was always very good. I enjoyed the coffee but would typically leave breakfast feeling giddy with the caffeine and sugar rush.

Founded in 753 BC, Rome is the capital of Italy and, at one time, was the capital of the world. After London and Paris, Rome is the most visited city in Europe with typically eight million visitors each year. Within Rome is Vatican City, an independent country in its own right and the world’s only country in a city. A lot of history, a lot of culture, a lot of tradition and a lot of tourists. We arrived, as usual, hopelessly prepared. We did not have a plan, we had not worked out where we wanted to go or what we wanted to see. We just wandered off into the city to see what would happen. It actually worked out quite well. We’d booked a hotel for three nights so we had two full days to explore.

On the first evening we walked down to the Trevi fountain in the hope of finding something to eat. The place was packed. I mean really solid with people. You could barely see the fountain for the press of humanity. Traditionally, you are supposed to throw a coin backwards into the water. This will ensure good luck and that you will return to Rome. An estimated €1,000,000 is thrown into the fountain each year. It is actually illegal to take coins out of the water. The money is collected and sent to Roman charities. In the streets around the fountain are hundreds or restaurants. Finding good food was no problem at all. That evening, I booked tickets to visit the Colosseum and the Vatican museum. You have to book these in advance and for a particular timeslot. Now we had a plan.

The Colosseum is big, impressive, heavily scaffolded and very, very crowded. We took a coffee at a street café close to the entrance while we waited for our timeslot. Here we discovered that the proximity to the ancient monument of the café doubled the price of coffee. Twenty minutes of queuing later and we were in. Along with many thousands of other tourists. Built in 80 AD, the Colosseum is the largest ancient amphitheatre ever built and is still the largest amphitheatre still standing in the world. It was designed to hold 65,000 spectators at gladiatorial contests, executions, dramas and other public spectacles. In two thousand years the building has been badly damaged by earthquakes and thieves removing stones for other buildings. Even so, 20,000 tourists manage to pack in there each day. It is very interesting but the crowds do make a visit into a bit of an ordeal. As at many other ancient sites, we could see the tension between conservation, preservation and restoration. The effects of pollution adds to the general weathering of the building. It also supports a wide variety of plants which sadly also cause damage. €20m was spent in the 1990’s on repairs. In the last decade a public-private partnership has commanded €25m to tackle further cleaning and restoration. My simple maths suggests that 6m visitors a year each paying €20+ for ticket should provide plenty of funds for restoration.

In the afternoon we could relax a little wandering around the Roman Forum and Palatine Hill – all included with our Colosseum ticket for just €31.80. We could have paid more for a guided tour, even more for a guided tour with a small group, more to skip the queues, more to the visit the Colosseum floor, the Colosseum underground and so on. The tourist milking machine is working well. The Roman Forum and Palatine Hill combined are a large outdoor area forming an open air museum and some of the oldest parts of Rome. We enjoyed a nice stroll around but much of the place looks, to me, like so many piles of rubble. Perhaps we should have paid for a guide. In the evening we discovered a classic Roman dish, Carciofi alla giudia, deep-fried artichokes.

Day two we tackled the Vatican. Specifically we queued to get into the Vatican museum and then spent several hours being herded through room after room of massive paintings and statues. Some or these are quite awesome in their scope and scale but it is nigh on impossible to spend any time contemplating them. The steady pressure of moving people makes standing still an act of defying the current. After a while it all gets a bit too much. Yet another incredibly detailed painting covering an entire wall. My brain started to fizz. By the time we reached the Sistine chapel with its famous frescoes and ceiling by Michelangelo, I mostly just wanted to leave. The crush there was really quite serious and if anyone panicked it would have been dreadful. “Show some respect” the guard said and made me take my hat off. Why does removing my hat equate to respect? I have no idea. As we had come in there were many signs telling women that they needed to keep their shoulders covered. Once respectfully clad, we could then walked past umpteen statues and paintings of nudes. There is much about the Vatican that made no sense to me at all.

We picked up the pace when we left the Amalfi coast. A week spent pottering around Naples, Pompei and the Amalfi was very pleasant but we still had a lot of Italy to see. We took the coast road south. At Agopoli, the main road cuts inland so following the coast more closely involves several small roads. Highly recommended for a bike ride. Remote, quiet and scenic. One of several places we stumbled across in Italy that were just a complete joy to ride through.

Two days later we were getting close to Villa San Giovanni where we could take the ferry to Messina and Sicily. I thought I would be clever and buy the ferry ticket online the night before – save some time when we got to the port. This proved to be very easy. I also thought, since we had plenty of time in the morning that we would follow the scenic coast road into Villa San Giovanni, avoiding the motorway. So, mid-morning, we rocked up at the ferry queue feeling like the day was already going quite well. The ferry arrived and the man inspected my ticket, which I showed him on my phone. No – this is not a ticket. It may say it is a ticket, but it is not. We have to go to the office and get our real ticket. We were ejected from the queue and rode back to the office at the entrance of the queuing area. There the man said we needed to go to another office and waved vaguely in the direction of town. We rode around town for a while hoping to spot a ticket office and eventually stumbled across the motorway exit – where we spotted a ticket office. Hooray. Because this was set up to catch vehicles coming off the motorway we needed to do an unorthodox manoeuvre to get us onto the other side of the road. My riding instructor would not have approved, but we made it to the office. No – this is the office for another company – you need the other office on the far side of the motorway junction. Fortunately there was not much traffic around so another slightly tricky bit of riding and we were there. The alternative, the correct and legal way would have been to ride about 6km along the motorway to the first junction and then back. But it was hot and I was getting more than a little annoyed at the amount of chasing around we were doing. Anyhow, we made it, we were finally at a ticket selling office whose name matched my downloaded document and the ferry. No – we cannot give you a ticket at the office, you need to use the machine. Yet another U-turn in the road and we were at a row of machines, each with a little barrier, next to which was a screen and keypad. There was no English language option and my Italian is almost non-existent. I could work out how to buy a ticket but not how to use the document I had been sent. Fortunately I could wriggle the bike past the barrier to get back to the office where we once again tried to explain our predicament to an uninterest official who spoke no English. Then a fixer appeared. I think he had been dozing by the wall of the office. He offered to help us and suddenly I started to feel like we were travelling in a third world country. We all went back to the machine. Our new fixer showed me what to do, I thanked him and paid him for his time. Ticket in hand we rode back to the ferry terminal where we had just missed a ship so we needed to queue for another half hour. Five hours after arriving at the terminal we actually got on the ferry and 20 minutes later we were in Sicily. Between the cost of the online service and the fixer (a fixer in Europe for goodness sake) we had doubled the cost of the ticket. On the way back we stopped at the machine at the motorway exit, bought a ticket and hopped on the ferry. Easy when you do things the right way.

Shortly after leaving Messina we could see the smoke from Mount Etna. At first we were not sure if we were looking at cloud or smoke. As we got closer the smoke clearly resolved itself. Etna, at over 3,000m, is the highest volcano in Europe. It is also one of the most active and has erupted 80 times in the 20^th century. We had booked a room in a hotel at 1,700m on the side of one of the world’s more dangerous volcanoes. The road up the volcano cuts through lava fields and a strangely desolate landscape. Occasionally lava flows down the hillside and destroys parts of the road. The result is a winding, patchwork road bordered by black ash that has been brushed to the side by the traffic. We stopped to have a look at this ash. It was mostly little balls of pumice type material. Very slippery stuff. I took great care to keep the bike well away from it at corners.

The Hotel Villa Dorata turned out to be lovely. It is a hundred years old and owes its longevity to luck – according to the owner. We sat outside on the terrace with a beer, contemplating volcanoes as the sun settled into the distance. Each side of the hotel are lava flows. The large flows from 1992 were pointed out to us. On this occasion, the town of Zafferana was only saved when explosives were used to divert the flow. Our ruminations were interrupted when we spotted a fox. A lovely little silver grey fox sat outside the kitchen door. Occasionally it would duck inside and pop back a moment later licking its lips. I suspect someone was feeding it.

Next day we headed a little further up the volcano to a ski resort. Yep, there is a ski resort on the side of Europe’s highest and most active volcano. No snow at this time of year but the Sapienza Refuge, the main tourist hub, is one of Sicily’s biggest tourist attractions. After a long queue for a ticket, we got to ride up the cableway in a gondola and then joined a small group of tourist in a small guided tour. A truck took us up a little higher to where we were herded into a small roped enclosure and given a moderately interesting talk. On the way back down we stopped to walk up the side of a small cone with fumaroles. I was plodding up a steep, narrow and somewhat insubstantial path when an indignant and piercingly Teutonic woman’s voice above me demanded “You are in my way. How can I come down when you are on the wrong side of the path?” I was somewhat taken aback and dutifully stood aside while considering just how a rough and tiny trail up recent volcanic debris could possibly have right and wrong sides. Cultural differences was my eventual conclusion.

All the way down the South West flank of Etna and we could pick up the motorway to Palermo. We stayed a couple of nights in Palermo. Had a walk round, checked out a few old buildings, rode on a horse drawn carriage and ate at the tables outside the restaurants. The weather was warm and sunny. We relaxed and enjoyed the change of pace for a day. Sipping Aperol Spritz outside a café we reflected on reached the halfway point of our Italian odyssey.

From Naples we worked our way around the Bay of Naples. First south to Pompei and then west through Sorrento to the village of Marciano at the end of the Sorrentine Peninsula. Here we had a fabulous lunch of ravioli while enjoying the view across blue water to the island of Capri. Then we rounded the headland and continued west which brought us to the Amalfi coast.

Known as the “Divine Coast” (Divina costiera) this picturesque landscape has long been one of the more popular destinations of the world’s jet set. It was also listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1997. From a biker’s perspective the place is a bit bonkers. Tiny winding roads, steep hillsides, narrow streets through crowded villages, plenty of traffic. The views are spectacular, but I found it much safer to get off the road and stop before contemplating them. Often the ocean was just a short plummet off to the right of the road while a mix of busses, trucks (small ones) cars and taxis all vied for priority on a diminishing patch of tarmac. We felt a little vulnerable on the bike but, for the most part, motorists gave us some space and were considerate.

At one small layby and viewpoint was a local trader and a stall stacked with an impressive array of fruit and vegetables. Biggest pomegranates I have ever seen. The layby was on a particularly sharp and unsighted corner so not only was there a fantastic seascape to take in but also endless entertainment watching the traffic. One coach was especially memorable. The local bus drivers take no prisoners, and this minor conflict was only resolved by four cars reversing, like a mutant caterpillar, to get out of the way. The stall owner squeezed some oranges for us. Honestly, some of the freshest, most tasty orange juice I have ever had. On balance, the ten-minute break in a layby turned out to be a highlight of the day.

A satnav induced navigation error caused us problems in finding our B&B. There is just the one continuous road along the coast. It snakes along the precipitous slopes and cliffs. In places the road balances on ledges leaning out over the ocean. Elsewhere it dives into short, dark, narrow tunnels.  The route through some of the villages is a small passageway that seems barely wide enough for a motorcycle never mind a four wheeled vehicle. If you ever choose to drive along here, I would strongly recommend a very small car. In various places there are even smaller roads above and below the main through route. Mostly these contour along the hillside parallel to the main road with just the occasional touchpoint. Elsewhere, haphazard tracks, footpaths and steps connect the roads vertically. Our satnav tried to guide us up one of these. The bottom of the route looked steep but possible. Fortunately, a taxi driver set us right and so, deferring to local advice, we drove several miles further before cutting back along the next road higher up. From this vantage point we could see the wisdom of following local knowledge. Trying to get a fully laden adventure bike up a diminishing path would have ended in tears.

We descended from Vesuvius down a thin road straight into Pompei. Possibly we had been following the path of a pyroclastic flow from hundreds of years ago. It still intrigues me that so many people live in this area. Vesuvius will erupt at some point and many people will die. I know there are evacuation plans in place but even so the collateral damage could be massive and the cost in human life is inevitable. Naples and this area is ranked amongst the seven most dangerous places in the world to live – tectonically speaking that is – along with the likes of Miami and Istanbul. Apparently, all risks considered, Afghanistan is the most dangerous country in the world and Tijuana, Mexico is the most dangerous city (138 homicides per 100,000 people).

With a head full of thoughts of death and destruction, we arrived at the ruins of Pompei. Here we spent an entire day looking at scenes of death and destruction. Pompei, as a town, was doing fine until AD 79 when Vesuvius erupted and buried the whole conurbation under 5m of volcanic ash. 11,000 happy Romans living in 160 acres of wealthy town with fine buildings and luxurious private houses. The first 18 hours of the eruption was a rain of pumice. Nasty, but not deadly. Most people could take the hint at this stage and run away. Then came the pyroclastic flows and they will have killed everyone that was left in a few minutes. Fast moving currents of hot gas and ash flowing down the sides of the volcano. Travelling at hundreds of kilometres an hour while reaching temperatures up to 1,000 °C. Death would be instant. A day later it was all over. More than 1,000 bodies have since been identified.

In the immediate aftermath of the eruption there would have been little to see of Pompei. The town had disappeared under a flat plain of ash and the coastline was 700m seaward of where it used to be. Over the next few years the town was raided occasionally by robbers but over time both the name and location were forgotten. 500 years later the area was further buried when Vesuvius erupted again.

Pompei was “rediscovered” at the beginning of the nineteenth century and has been the target for much archaeological excavation since. Organic material, including humans, has rotted away over the intervening 2,000 years. In places this left human shaped voids in the ash. By injecting plaster into these moulds it is possible to recreate the shape of the original person.

Today much work is still in progress. As in many historic sites there is a tension between conservation, excavation, restoration and tourism. Much of the town was well preserved by the ash, which excluded air and moisture. Once building and artifacts began to be excavated they also began to deteriorate through natural and made-made erosion. Approximately two thirds of the city has been excavated but is now suffering from exposure to the elements. Some buildings have even collapsed. Many artifacts have been removed to museums elsewhere and weather protection has been added to some of the constructions. Restoration, the rebuilding of damaged features and artifacts, can be considered a form of conservation even though modern techniques and materials will sometimes be involved. Presenting parts of the site in something closer to their original condition makes it easier, especially for lay people, to understand something of life in Roman times. This in turn heightens the tourist experience and tourists, especially in Pompei, are a major source of income.

The site is quite vast and we spent a lot of time wandering around some very similar looking buildings. There is not much by way of explanations. I would have liked to be able to read the stories behind more of what we could look at. If I were feeling cynical, then I might suggest that the lack of posted information was to support the local guides, of which there were many, each herding their small flock of tourists around. There are also audio guides available with a little earpiece you can wear. However, no only do these tend to be quite soporific but they also preclude conversation and readily get out of sync with your location. We looked around for an entire day. It was, for the most part, very interesting, but, also, an awful lot to take in for one day.

The last building we visited was the amphitheatre. This is one of the oldest surviving Roman amphitheatres. Built in 70 BC, it was damaged by earthquake in 62 AD, restored and then buried in volcanic ash a mere 17 years later. In 1971, Pink Floyd made a concert film, Live in Pompei. It is a great film but there was not really a live audience for the concert. However, 45 years later, in 2016 David Gilmour came back to the amphitheatre to do a genuine live performance – now considered to be the first performance to live audience since 79 AD. We discovered a barred passage in the outside wall that looked to lead deep into the building. There was an indistinct light in the far distance and if you listened carefully, the sounds of Pink Floyd were playing.

From Pisa it was a short drive down to the Ligurian Sea. Diane likes a good coast road so we followed the beaches for a while before cutting inland to further our exploration of Tuscany by heading to Montepulciano. Round about then my Senna 10C packed up. Died completely. This is a helmet mounted accessory which lets Diane and I talk to each other. She has a similar  unit with little speakers inside the helmet and a microphone. As equipment goes, this is far from being essential. However, it is really nice to be able to chat with each other while riding. We can discuss the scenery, agree a coffee stop and, occasionally, Diane can tell me to slow down. Getting the communicator fixed turned out to be easy. Google maps guided us to a bike shop. There a very nice young man not only sold me a replacement Midland unit but also fitted it into my helmet.

Back on the road and happily chatting to each other we arrived at possibly the best lunch stop in the world. I realise that such judgements are subjective but this guy was making and serving the perfect cheese sandwich. Two thick slices of sourdough, a similarly thick slab of local cheese, ripe tomato, olive oil, pepper. In my opinion, very hard to improve on especially when followed by an expresso. Eventually we did arrive at Montepulciano where we forgot to take any photographs but did get to drink a very nice bottle of wine.

The Basilica di Sant’ Ubaldo stands on a hill above the town of Gubbio. It is a perfectly nice church but would not be worth a special trip but for the gondola system, the Funivia Colle Eletto, that takes you up there. Small wire baskets just big enough for two people run up and down the hillside on a steel cable. You need to jump on as the basket goes past and then hop out at the other end. It is great fun. Nice view from the top. Little cafè for a coffee. Church.

In the evening we arrived at Assisi and stayed in a wonderful hotel in the valley bottom below the basilica. The walls of the church glowed with the setting sun in a very imposing and biblical way. At the hotel we were welcomed particularly warmly. Next morning we rode up to the walled town and were somewhat surprised to be let in. Traffic is tightly controlled. Only a handful of local authorised vehicles are allowed. Most cars and the coaches full of tourists have to use the large carpark outside the walls. I was expecting to head for the carpark when I noticed a policeman waving me through the archway into what was, for most intents and purposed, a pedestrian area. This was a story we saw repeated several times; bikes are immune from traffic restrictions. Great. Diane is still having a bit of trouble with her knee so she was very happy to stay on the bike and have a tour of Assis. After a relaxed cup of coffee in the central plaza we headed for the hills.

To the east of Rome is a mountain range, the Apennines and three national parks. The area contains some of the best preserved natural forests and grasslands in Europe. It is also one of the most seismically active areas of Italy. We were forcefully remined of the earthquake of 2016 when we rode through a couple of villages that has been completely flattened. 300 people were killed in this earthquake. Further south the roads became more like tracks. We stayed in a delightful converted farmhouse and the night after in a fabulous converted bungalow on top of a hill. This was a B&B and set up to sleep a dozen or more people. We were the only ones there. The owners left us the keys so we enjoyed the solitude as the storm clouds rolled in and the rain came.

Fortunately we only had a short run into Naples. No more than a couple of hours. It had rained all night and was still raining hard. We girded our loins, zipped up our jackets, pulled down our visors and went for it. Progress was slow. Standing water takes extra care on a bike. Visibility was poor. My jacket is quite waterproof but damp still seeps in around the neck and up my sleeves. We arrived earlier than normal at our B&B looking like downed rats. They took pity on us and we were let inside.

A couple of hours later we had dried off enough to start exploring Naples. Not that the dryness lasted long as the rain continued to lash down for another two days. We explored the narrow streets packed with shops and we ate a couple of pizzas. Naples is traditionally the home of pizza so this seemed appropriate. We bought a very cheap umbrella and some plastic macs – none of which actually helped very much. The rain began to ease towards the end of the second day but in the morning we wanted to leave for Pompei.

Pompei is very close to Naples. Less than 30km. We made a day of it by going up Vesuvius. This volcanoes dominates the bay and is still active. If it erupts properly then 3,000,000 people will need to be evacuated. The authorities assume that they will have over a week to do this from when the warning arrives. We could drive up past the carpark to the end of the track (official vehicles and motorcycles only). From here guided groups were being taken higher but the cloud was down so there was little to be seen. We pushed on to Pompei.

From the top of Splügen Pass we descended into warmth and sunshine. By the time we reached the shores of Lake Como it felt like summer again. Even the sky cleared and we basked in the sunshine. First night in Italy felt like a great success. The hotel was lovely. The owner was a biker of old and loved the romance of a road trip through Italy. We had a room with a view of boats across the lake. In the evening we walked a short distance to a fabulous pizza restaurant. The food was great. We could sit outside in the warmth and enjoy sunset over the water. The meal was rounded off with a small glass of grappa. It really felt like we had arrived in Italy

Next day we headed east across the mountains. Scenic, winding mountain roads with very little traffic. There was a small hiccup when the clutch lever came loose. Fortunately the bolt did not come out so all I needed to do was tighten it back up again. Once upon a time, KTM motorcycles had a bit of a reputation when it came to reliability. I think they may have bettered this issue now. Certainly, for our new bike, on this trip, there was just the one mechanical problem in over 8,000 km.

A more common hiccup was route-finding. I was using an Internet based app to plan the routes and transferred them onto the Garmin satnav as .GPX files. Initially there were a lot of problems with the Garmin crashing or spontaneously rebooting. This was mostly solved by keeping the routes short. Just one day usually. The other problem was the occasional tendency for the routing to try and take us down a footpath. I never really got to the bottom of what caused this but since it only occurred rarely it was not too much of a problem.

After a week or so travelling we were starting to settle into a rhythm. Wake up, start packing, eat breakfast, finish packing, ride bike, stop for coffee, ride bike, stop for lunch, ride bike, stop for coffee, ride bike, arrive at hotel, get washed, walk round local area, eat dinner, drink wine, go to bed. Repeat. There were cafes everywhere. We never really had to plan for breaks – we could almost always find a convenient and friendly place for coffee and food. Sometimes they would have a sign outside that announced “Bikers Welcome”. This sort of sign is hardly ever seen in the UK. Not only did it make me smile but it was also effective in influencing where we stopped.

Briefly we looked at Lake Garda but we had arrived on a sunny weekend and the whole are was packed with people. There may have been some big event or it might just have been the last good weekend of the summer. Whatever, there were queues of cars that literally stretched for miles. We glimpsed the water as we passed to the North and then south down the main road rather than by the lakeside.

Next day a fairly uneventful ride brought us to Reggio Emilia. In the evening we walked down to the centre of the old part of town. In particular to a large square surrounded by restaurants. The square was packed with tables and it seemed like everyone and their dog had come out to eat. We eventually found a place to sit in the bustling chaos and were treated to a fabulous meal of pasta washed down with some excellent wine. This is a wonderful place to enjoy a very Italian atmosphere and some magnificent food. If I visited again, I would probably book a table first.

South again and along some lovely winding roads through the mountains until we arrived at Pisa. This was one of the first places that Diane said she wanted to visit. I was not so sure, thinking it might just be a big tourist trap. In the event, it turned out to be lovely. Pisa, the old part, is only a small area. There are some interesting buildings, including one that famously leans. There are many restaurants serving food in the streets. There are a lot of tourists but not so many as to be overwhelming. And there is a tourist industry but it is not high-powered and your face so much as welcoming and quite gentle. We really enjoyed Pisa. I was a little concerned about leaving the bike parked in the street despite being able to see it from our room window. Fortunately it proved to be safe for two nights. We stayed in a basic but perfectly adequate B&B near the center of Pisa. From here we could explore the whole area rounding up both days with yet more great food.