Siena

22 May Sienna Campground

Mr GPS was in disgrace this morning. (I thought I was better and we decided to go to Montelpulciano.) The sealed road out of town offered a scintillating descent, but our GPS, with his programmed predilection for small quiet roads, thought he could do better than that. Therefore we found ourselves on a winding gravel track with a gradient of 15%. Since I am still nursing a sore knee (thick, numb and painful to bend) from the fall a few weeks ago, walking seemed the more sensible option. Then the road was barricaded off on either side of a small land-slip. So we had to take all the panniers off, lift the bikes over, and put them all back on again. Ah well, the views were sublime.

The road took us to Buonconvento, from where there's a train to Sienna. It was already nearly 1pm – Domenico had had breakfast with us, we'd met his stylish and friendly wife, been taken for an inspection of the ancient cellar in his gorgeous house and so had left very late. We regretfully decided to skip Montelpulciano and go on to Sienna.

One of the routes to Sienna that Domenico had shown us seemed to be full of low rises and long downhills, so I decided I was up to riding to Sienna. However, the road we took was full of hot UP hills – the first one was 15% up - we finished back at nearly the same height as Montalcino - and by the time we limped into Sienna campground at just after 8pm we were completely exhausted. Also, apart from the last couple of kilometres in, the scenery was not very exciting.

We summoned the concentration to put up our tent, washed our faces and went to the on-site restaurant for pretty delicious pizzas and umm tiramisu. It was too late, and we were too tired, to even consider cooking.

23 May Siena Campground

Rest day today – did washing, stayed around campground, chatted to Englishman cycling to Papua New Guinea(!). Why? Well, he was cycling to Borneo anyway and a friend who lived in PNG said he may as well go a bit further.

Cooked our own dinner, just remembering how.

24 May Siena camping ground

Today we actually got to visit Siena and it was quite beautiful.

It took us a couple of hours to get out of the campground, because we tried (unsuccessfully) to use Skype, and we up-dated the blog.

The end result was that we caught a bus at about noon, which is not so fatal here as elsewhere because places stay open all day.

We walked through streets lined with Gothic buildings and palaces (there was a sign pointing to the Palazzo di Poste, rather a step up from Post Office) to the Piazza del Campo which is a wonderful place, then we had a shop make rolls for us, which involved choosing the bread, choosing the cheese and other fillings, all of which was weighed and priced separately then assembled and wrapped.

We ate sitting on the steps of what we thought was the back of the Duomo (wrongly, as we later found out), and walked around the front. It's quite difficult to describe the impact of the Duomo, which has been cleaned and restored so that it looks like it has just been built, because the eroded original statues have been moved into the museum and replaced with replicas. The whole things is a luminous confection of pink, white and green marble with intricate detail, and many many statues and carvings, all wonderfully made. The facade and the statues along the roof stood out white against the deep blue sky. The surrounding buildings and buildings in Siena generally are relatively simple and austere and so the Duomo stands out in dramatic contrast. Gail says it was so beautiful it made her want to cry.

She found the inside less exciting – it is rather sombre, all the columns match the black and white stripes of the bell tower - but has some lovely things, including the pulpit and inlaid marble pictures on the floor which took 400 years to make.

We needed a drink after that, before we went to the Baptistery, which was the building on whose steps we had eaten lunch. It was also pretty good. Then the crypt,which was part of the substructure of the Duomo, and incorporated the structure of an older church and its frescoes.

We decided that we had done enough sightseeing and headed off the supermarket, and home.

Home now had new neighbours, Pierre and Eleanor, a slightly older couple on a flash folding tandem. They are from Perth, originally from South Africa, and travelling for 6 months. We had a huge veggie pasta, then Vincent from Ireland (whom we met yesterday) arrived with Kiew-Sook from Korea, a young woman cycling from France to Rome on her own. Intrepid and very unsook-ish. She had her bike stolen in Aix-en-Provence, pulled herself together, bought a new bike and kept going. She said she used to travel in great comfort and still find things to complain about, so decided she would make herself uncomfortable by cycle touring. Now she finds she appreciates everything.

25 May Siena campground

Chatted to Vincent, Kiew Sook, Pierre and Eleanor this morning, then went into Siena with Pierre and Eleanor. We gave them a brief tour, now being old hands, had another look at Il Campo, then parked ourselves in front of the cathedral for another look. The longer you look, the more you see, and its impression grows.

Then to the Museo d'Opera di Duomo, which contains many of the original sculptures, friezes and so forth which are beautiful close up, with remarkable attention to detail given that they are made to be seen from a distance. The Museum is made of part of what was to the the grand extension of the Duomo, and at the end is the front wall. We climbed up to the parapet which was about level with the roof of the Duomo and has wonderful views over Siena and the surrounding countryside. Gail went to the highest level, but I gracefully declined.

Then lunch (much the same as yesterday) and a walk around which took us to a hairdressers where we both had haircuts!.
Our final stop had an exhibition of Sienese art from Jacopo di Quercio to Donatello, which was really interesting and well put together, with some lovely things, not least of which was Donatello's bronze John the Baptist. The building was a hospital for pilgrims and the poor and operated, as far as we could work out, until the 1990's. One room had nice frescoes of the sort of things that the hospital did.

Supermarket again, then home (at about 7.30) to fire up the stove. We ate with Kiew-Sook and Vincent and had a rollicking time until 11 when we fell into bed.

26 May Siena Campground

Today we went to have a look at San Gimignano. We decided to take the train most of the way there and ride home carrying just one pannier each making it a 51km day.

We ate a lovely salad for lunch on the way sitting on a little bridge to someone's farm, with a stream trickling below, a flowering tree in front of us, red poppies bright in the sun, and a meadow studded with dark and light green trees stretching up to the farmhouse. The people living there came home for siesta and waved to us.

In fact we were both disappointed with SG because it was absolutely crawling with tourists, and tourist shops and although the square towers projecting into the sky made it unusual (individual families built them to demonstrate their wealth and power) it was otherwise just a nice hill town with buildings similar to those of Siena but not as grand.

Mr GPS found us a pretty dirt road out of there which wasn't too steep or blocked off, and we enjoyed the lovely views before settling in for some solid hill climbing. We stopped at another walled town – Colle Di Val d'Elsa which was lovely and tranquil. We had a coffee there and the rest of our bread with jam on it, then continued on our way until we saw what seemed to be a ruined castle perched on a hill. There was a winding dirt road up to it, so we decided to go and investigate.

A young couple from New York were also walking up to it – back to their hotel. They said they were also travelling by bike – but a bike touring company was carrying their luggage and organising 4 star hotels each night. (!!!!!) (They did only have a week - she was a cardiologist).

At the top was a beautiful little fortified village, with just a few tourists wandering about enjoying the late afternoon sun.

We continued home as fast as we could after this, because we'd promised to cook dinner for Eleanor and Pierre (they can't buy fuel for their stove in Italy so are doing without while here.) The hills were alive with the sound of panting and puffing and seemed interminable, however we skidded back to the tent at 7.15, making a quick stop for FOUR of the sensational vanilla slices the little pasticceria up the road makes. (We've been sharing one between us for dessert each night!) Eleanor had opened the wine, cut up a salad and the smoked salmon and found a special 'cream' to go with it. We supplied the capers, pasta and the gas, and had a fabulous dinner together.

Sorano to Siena

20 May: Hotel in Santa Fiore

Today dawned bright and clear. Hurrah! The mother – it was a mother and son restaurant – and we were in her house, made us an Italian breakfast – cakes and a couple of pieces of that highly toasted bread that comes in a packet – but she included an orange each, which was nice. It turned out the house was 17th century. She was really solicitous, and kissed me goodbye and wished us bon-voyage when we left. She had to be in her 70s. What energy!

The town looked different in the morning sun, and our spirits lifted as we set off for Castel del Piano. The riding was slow and difficult though; Gail still not anywhere near 100%, me carrying a bit more than usual, and quite a lot of testing climbs, not least the first one out of Sorana's gorge - and a swirling wind which was sometimes in our faces. We stopped for an early lunch by the road and were joined by a friendly and very self-assured little dog, which came with us as we bowed to the inevitable and walked up the next hill. The climbing was more substantial and extended than appeared from the ride description, and topped out at a bit over 800m at Castel A???, then a nice slightly undulating road along the ridge and through the forest, followed by a very pleasant but unfortunately long downhill and another hard climb to here. In between all this we passed through some pretty scenery, and avoided the rain clouds which kept lurking about as the afternoon wore on. We decided at the base of the climb that Castel del Piano was out of the question and we'd stay in Santa Fiore.

This turned out to be a socially complex arrangement. The tourist office was shut, so we asked the fellow who ran the up market wine and food shop about B & B's. This required him to consult with the woman who ran the frippery shop next door, but she was busy with a customer. 20 minutes later, she explained to us that she did not speak English, but that it was very difficult to get a B&B for one night only, and she would take us to the Museum where somebody spoke English. The Museum was a mining museum and the said woman not only spoke English but was English. After she tracked down the only operating B&B to find that it was full, and then rang the hotel which was more than happy to take us (and, we found later, to put the bikes in their garage), Gail asked the obvious question. How did she come to be here speaking fluent Italian. Answer: her parents were Italian and had emigrated separately to En gland after the war. Her father worked in the coal mines till they shut down, they had 4 kids, then retired back to Santa Fiore whence they (or at least, he) came. Then, both parents fell ill and she came (ten years ago) to look after them.

The hotel is OK if impersonal compared to last night and after eating an entree of green beans cooked in the hotel room (by us, not room service) and an alarming moment when it seemed that all the restaurants might be shut, we found somewhere to have some pretty good pasta, then came home to collapse into bed. We are now considering carefully the question of how much Tuscan scenery is enough Tuscan scenery (with a little voice saying, “Enough with the vistas, stop mucking about and go to Florence, you know you want to...”).

21 May Casa Degli Orsi

We began today by stoking up on the hotel buffet breakfast – we were both famished after yesterday. [I had juice, a huge bowl muesli, yoghurt, a large slice of jam tart, a kiwi-fruit and buckets of black tea.]

Of course it was upwards, ever upwards, and although better than yesterday, I was only 80% of normal. So, Phil carried the tent again. The weather stayed sunnier than yesterday, with only a little black cloud hovering around, reminding us not to take the sunshine – or for that matter, our health and strength - for granted.

We quickly reconsidered this question of Tuscan vistas though, because in short, the scenery was fantastic and we quickly fell under its spell. First, it is so green, in every shade of green, and so luxuriant – from the roadside trees and patchwork and forested panoramas, to the roadsides and meadows full of buttercups, little starry white flowers, reddy-pink spires, scarlet poppies and dense clusters of a little brilliant yellow creeper. Then, the houses and hill-top villages are aesthetically so pleasing to the eye, that you look and look, and still cannot look enough.

It was 2.30pm before we were hungry enough to eat (breakfast was at 9am), and then we spread the sarong picnic rug at the side of the road and gazed at the view before us while we had a lovely lunch of lettuce and tomatoes (dressed with olive oil and balsamic vinegar), little wrinkly black olives, fresh ricotta cheese and borlotti beans, followed by fruit and chocolate.

Then it was onwards again, and by dint of not too much walking and pushing we made our way to Casa Degli Orsi, which is half again as much as we usually pay for a B&B, but the cycling Lonely Planet made it sound irresistible. The Orsi family produced a cardinal – and got its crest- in 1750, and, apart from the lovely B&B rooms and terrace with wonderful view, there is a pretty little garden which contains a family of turtles. The two 3 year olds and the 5 year old live in a large ceramic plant-pot. All three fit on one of my hands. There are also 3 bigger ones (handsize) but our host Domenico has no idea how old they are.

He is a lovely man. He suggested routes for tomorrow, and a restaurant for dinner (so much for being 'over' eating out), but he's especially lovely because he described me to his wife on the phone as “a bella signora” and was quite embarrassed when I said “grazie molto!” and he realized I'd understood part of what he thought was a private conversation.

After a wonderful hot shower we made friends with the turtles. They were a bit reserved at first, but then they came out of their shells.(That was a 'Philism' of course.) Dinner was lovely: a soup, a small dish of hand-made pasta, then delicious chick-peas with rosemary and delicious spinach. Lots of butter and garlic seemed to be involved. This town is famous for it's Brunello (red) wine. You can buy it by the glass, so Phil had one, and drank it Very Slowly.

We think that if I'm not 100% tomorrow we'll ride a short way and catch a train to Siena. If I'm back to normal, we'll do some more up and downing to Montelpulciano, another speccy hill-town (also famous for its wine) with more speccy Toscana scenery on the way.

22 May Siena Campground

Mr GPS was in disgrace this morning. (I thought I was better and we decided to go to Montelpulciano.) The sealed road out of town offered a scintillating descent, but our GPS, with his programmed predilection for small quiet roads, thought he could do better than that. Therefore we found ourselves on a winding gravel track with a gradient of 15%. Since I am still nursing a sore knee (thick, numb and painful to bend) from the fall a few weeks ago, walking seemed the more sensible option. Then the road was barricaded off on either side of a small land-slip. So we had to take all the panniers off, lift the bikes over, and put them all back on again. Ah well, the views were sublime.

The road took us to Buonconvento, from where there's a train to Siena. It was already nearly 1pm – Domenico had had breakfast with us, we'd met his stylish and friendly wife, been taken for an inspection of the ancient cellar in his gorgeous house and so had left very late. We regretfully decided to skip Montelpulciano and go on to Siena.

One of the routes to Siena that Domenico had shown us seemed to be full of low rises and long downhills, so I decided I was up to riding to Siena. However, the road we took was full of hot UP hills – the first one was 15% up - we finished back at nearly the same height as Montalcino - and by the time we limped into Siena campground at just after 8pm we were completely exhausted. Also, apart from the last couple of kilometres in, the scenery was not very exciting.

We summoned the concentration to put up our tent, washed our faces and went to the on-site restaurant for pretty delicious pizzas and umm tiramisu. It was too late, and we were too tired, to even consider cooking.

23 May Siena Campground

Rest day today – did washing, stayed around campground, chatted to Englishman cycling to Papua New Guinea(!). Why? Well, he was cycling to Borneo anyway and a friend who lived in PNG said he may as well go a bit further.

Cooked our own dinner, just remembering how.

Orbetello to Sorano

15 May Camping Feniglia at Orbetello

We continue to look forward to the weather clearing. It has rained all last night and all today. We decided it was a stay in the tent day – reading books, catching up on sleep, up-dating our annotations on the map and writing postcards. Apart from occasional visits to the ablutions, we did not get up until after 6pm, when hunger drove me to check whether the camp pizzeria was open. Sure enough it is and I am sitting here writing with a glass of wine, listening to the rain. It is cold, and the campground is clearly set up for warm, sunny weather, not cold rain!

If it continues to rain tomorrow (or even, perhaps, if it doesn't,) we are contemplating a day trip by train to Tarquinia which is about 30km on the way back to Rome and is, evidently, a great Etruscan site.

[I joined Phil here in the restaurant at 7.30. It's still raining, but I feel warmish, rested and clean. The shower block is reminiscent of the spartan stalag-like one in Sardinia, with cold-water washbasins and French hole-in the floor toilets. It is clean though. I undressed, put a jeton into the machine outside the shower and waited hopefully. Nothing happened. I decided to try thumping it. A more vigorous couple of whacks, and the shower produced a stream of cold water which eventually became warm enough to put my head under. I had almost rinsed out the shampoo when 'clunk' everything cut out. Luckily I was prepared. This time the jeton went straight down and I had a slightly warmer second half.

Three little boys at the other table have an enormous pizza and a glass of coke each. As Phil pointed out, they're eating slowly and engaging in animated conversation with each other.]

An enormous, delicious, pizza has just arrived. Gail has a rather nice risotto pescatore. This is a campground restaurant! Where are the chiko rolls?


16 May Camping Feniglia at Orbetello

We got ourselves the 10km to the station by 10am, by dint of riding through lakes of puddles filling the road from the campground from one side to the other. We watched how far the water came up on the cars, and after I nearly got stuck in muddy gravel at the edge, slowly steered a middle course without coming off! We arrived panting, to find a train had left for Tarquinia at 9.30, and there wasn't another one until 1.54pm.
OK then, it was only 30kms or so and although very overcast it wasn't actually raining – we'd ride there. I strapped the red bag on the back of Phil's bike with an okky while he checked the GPS. Hmmm. It was 50kms as the crow flies, and we were in 'civilian' clothes for a train trip. Never mind. 50Kms + wouldn't take long. We set off from the station …... and it immediately started to rain. We weren't dressed for this:you can't get cotton trousers and a cotton skirt wet and stay warm.

To console ourselves we had croissants filled with crema (custard) at a nearby bar, and came up with another plan.

We'd buy lunch somewhere in Orbetello, and look around it. Then we'd take the 2pm train and come back on one which would get us back at 8 ish. (It is light til around 9pm).

So, we tootled around Orbetello, which was rather pleasant and had lunch which was also pleasant, then headed back for the train. The train came in, was really long and did not have any bike sign at the front. The back was too far so we just hauled the bikes in and tied them up. The conductor appeared and said the bikes were in the wrong place, but shrugged OK when we said we were only going 2 stops.

Tarquinia was up a hill, but that was OK. The day grew clearer and warmer and we shed clothes to get there. We found the museum which was in a large former monastery, and fun in itself. The exhibits mainly consisted of sarcophagi and grave treasures. It was pretty interesting.

After the museum we went up through the medieval town to the necropolis, where 19 Etruscan graves have been excavated. The main feature was the frescoes, some of which were pretty good and some of which had all but disappeared. We ran out of stamina after 8 or so, and went back to the town to poke around the medieval part. This was good – some buildings dated back to the 12th century and yet everything still seemed to be in use.

Even better, at 6.40 the main thoroughfare started filling with smartly dressed people – men in jackets and ties, women in pants or dresses with with a nice jacket over the top - everyone was out on their Sunday passegiata and the atmosphere of the town was suddenly quite transformed. Friendliness and sociability was in the very air. Couples walked arm in arm, families stopped to talk to friends, a little group of girls of about 12, all extremely pretty and excited to be out and on show – and pretending to be oblivious to the little group of boys not far behind - stopped to talk to family groups, and then to two old ladies, who chucked one of them under the chin. What a wonderful way to celebrate interconnectedness, and to foster it. How sad that we don't do it in Australia. How much richer and warmer our lives would be if we spent an hour a day in the company of family, friends and neighbours. We haven't said this before, but Italian people are very polite, and when you make eye contact with anyone, it's normal to say 'Buongiorno' and they'll reply 'giorno' and then once the shops open again after siesta at 4.30-5pm, 'Buona sera' or just 'sera'. So, because we stood out in bike clothes, and were pushing our bikes, we said 'sera' quite a few times,

Back to the station again, and this time we incurred the disapproval of the driver, as we got on the front carriage – the bike area was at the very back – i.e. about 200m away. When we explained we were only going a couple of stops he nodded OK.

Got to Orbetello, where we were accosted by a pleasant couple who could speak English quite well and were interested in where we came from and what we were up to. The husband told us a few things about Pitigliano and they both sang the praises of Sorano, which is on the itinerary.

We cycled back to the campground, negotiating the slightly reduced 'flood plains' in very deep dusk, and have just had dinner in the restaurant, again.

17 May Camera in Pitigliano

Well I thought 'getting a chill' was an old wives tale but I did get very cold riding home last night, and didn't stop to put on my raincoat. This morning I got behind Phil, and had to ask him to slow down. Whenever I went into shade, I came out in goose-bumps and when we stopped for lunch in the driveway of a nursery selling among other things, massive 100s of year old olive trees, I lay on my back and wanted to rest forever. At this point Phil insisted on taking the tent.

The scenery for all of this stretch was flat and semi suburban, but gradually the country became rural, a bit wooded and hilly and much lusher. Signs for agriturismos (country houses offering bed and an evening meal) appeared with increasing regularity. We discussed the possibility of stopping at one, because today's ride was 70kms with big hills in the second part, and I didn't think I could possibly make it, but we kept discounting them - “too ordinary, too far off the road, too expensive looking, only a phone number – they might not be there, etc etc”

Once we were in rolling hills, our gentle tail wind changed to a very cold head-wind, and the black cloud above us started spitting on us. We just had time to pull on raincoats and (me) overshoes, before the deluge began. 100 m ahead was a typical Tuscan farmhouse; stone, square and two or three storied. Not usually good for shelter. But this one had a huge machinery shed/garage on the ground floor with the doors wide open. We sprinted up the driveway, and watched it become a torrent as the rain pelted down. Gradually the rain eased off drastically, and we set off again, mentally thanking our unknowing hosts for their hospitality.

We reached Manciano and stopped for cakes and tea/coffee. With another 20km to Pitigliano we started looking in earnest for an agriturismo. Finally we decided on one and the young woman was home. “Cucina?” I asked hopefully. No, sorry, no dinner. We weren't carrying enough food with us to make dinner, so that was no good.

We looked at the route profile again; there was about 10kms of downhill and 10kms of climbing. I decided I could do it, so with some bread and jam to sustain me en route, and some judicious walking, we got here.

Usually hill towns are on the top of hills (!!!!) so they poke up and you can see them for miles around. We wondered why we couldn't see Pitigliano. When we were upon it, we realised why. It is built on a massive outcrop of rock, but that rears up out of a deep, forested gorge which surrounds it on three sides, so its actual height is about the same as the surrounding country. It looks spectacular. The road of course, dips right down low, and then climbs right up high!

The recommended B&B was closed, but this one was an ok price, spotlessly clean and comfortable, and looked onto a 16th century aqueduct and the street below, so we took it for two nights. We ran into an older English couple doing a 4 week tour on folding bikes, and staying in the same place. I had a long hot shower and fell into bed. When Phil woke me after his dinner with an utterly delicious pizza, I was wet with sweat.


18th May Camera in Pitigliano

We had breakfast in our room after an expedition by me to buy milk, yoghurt, bananas, and glad wrap (more of that later). I ran into the English couple who were setting off. Their luggage consisted of a small backpack each in a shopping basket on the handlebars. No wonder they were bemused when they saw our loaded bikes yesterday.

Spent the rest of the morning trying without much success to Skype (internet reception not v good), then walking all around the medieval town which is pretty impressive looking and has wonderful vistas of the lush surrounding gorges and hills.

Lunch was a d.i.y. salad while enjoying the views. Then Gail retreated to the room and, with the aid of the above mentioned gladwrap hennaed her hair – first time she's done that on a bike ride. This process took some time, and I went and had a coffee and came back for a siesta, but finished reading my book instead. Then I amused myself by watching the traffic. Our window is above a hairpin bend without footpaths, where all traffic coming down from the main modern town meets all traffic going up. This includes pedestrians, trucks, buses, police cars, scooters, three wheelers, ordinary cars, and at one stage a man on a bike with his dog trotting beside him on a lead. For four wheeled vehicles, it was not possible to get around and stay on the right side of the street. Remarkably, it was neither chaotic nor stressed.

Then more walking including down some staircases to the edge of the town where there were occasional terraces, and to the old ghetto, where the museum and synagogue had closed for the day.

We ate a dinner at a pleasant little restaurant, but are a bit over eating out at the moment. Mostly, the food is nice but not particularly memorable, though Gail said last night's pizza was really good with a fine crispy base and delectable cheese topping. The best she has ever eaten, she says...which perhaps explains why I was not offered a piece.


19 May B & B in Sorano

I sweated in the night again, and found to my dismay that trying to carry my panniers downstairs in one go left me trembling and exhausted. Oh dear! Today was supposed to be about 57 kms, but all but 10 were pretty steeply up. We'd left our room though, so we set off anyway, leaving our copy of the Leopard with the owner, “free to a good home”. We wound our way down through the lovely gorge and up again, in mild, overcast weather. Savona was only 9kms way, but we watched as purple-black clouds massed in one half of the sky, and thunder rolled. We got there for a sprinkle of rain. Sarona was tiny and touristy. We saw the old church, and somehow entirely missed the fabulous Duomo with primitive, romanesque carvings (which we've just seen in a book!). We also met a couple with a lovely dog. They spoke a little English, lived near beautiful Lake Como in the North, and confided that their dream was to retire from there to Australia. We refrained from commenting on this surprising aspiration, but they got one of the koalas, for 'good luck'.

The clouds continued to gather blackly, but we cycled bravely(!) on to Sorano, about 9 km on, hoping to beat the deluge as the temperature plummeted. We had left Pitigliano, thinking it was going to be pretty hard for any other hill-town to compare, but here was Sorano, another 'Tufo' town, surrounded by even more rugged and spectacular gorges. We got there just in time and, from the safety of a shop awning, watched the downpour start as we piled on warm clothes.

In all the circumstances, we decided 14 kms was plenty for one day, and that, in the short term, food was more important than lodgings. However, we'd forgotten that it was Wednesday, and all shops selling food close for the day at lunchtime. Instead, we found an inviting-looking restaurant packed with people. There was hot soup, and also the owners rented a room in their house. Said room is in a medieval house, but this one feels really old. There's curves, and arches, and a winding staircase, and the once rough brick floor of our room, which has gentle slopes in it, is worn smooth and shiny. However, we have a modern little bathroom, and central heating – which the owners put on, because it was no more than 9 or10 degrees outside this afternoon.

The owners came home to rest, and we put on raincoats and all of our warm clothes, borrowed their umbrellas, and went out in the rain to explore the town. The setting makes it feel like a mythical place.

We returned to their restaurant for a refreshingly simple and well-cooked Tuscan dinner. Only one other couple came in apart from us. Tomorrow we're hoping to acquire some food of our own and actually ride the rest of the 57km.

Capri

12 May Latte' e Liett' apartment directly opposite the ferry terminal in Naples (overlooking Via Cristofero Colombo)

(Slightly out of sequence for technical reasons!)

We knew that Naples has the best pick-pockets in the world, but I thought my little bag, securely zipped up, with small wallet at the bottom of it, was pretty secure. It wasn't!

Some of the things we wanted to see were closed today, so we decided to go to the Isle of Capri, as Lia recommended it as her most favourite place on earth.

We had crossed the road to the dock when I decided to run back for my jumper. I didn't see anyone, I didn't feel anyone, but suddenly my bag was unzipped and ominously lighter. So, we got a refund on the tickets Phil had just bought and came back here to stop the cards. One hour and 20 mins later this was done, but not before a withdrawal had been made from our VISA card (which we are mostly not liable for). Luckily there wasn't much cash in my wallet.

After this we had a review of our security. I'm now carrying my bag across the body and in front of it, Phil's carrying cash in two places, and only a little in his wallet. We hope by these means we can finish our trip without coming unstuck again.

So, we got to Capri rather later than expected, but it was gorgeous, and spectacular with its limestone cliffs rearing above everything, and three limestone pillars jutting out of an amazing aquamarine sea. Another playground of the rich and famous, it has some amazing hotels and houses, and shops full of exquisite things. Restaurants have photo board outside, with pictures of the famous who have eaten there. (We had bread and bananas on a wall with a view!)

We came back at 8.30pm and then went out to dinner again. We've decided that we mostly cook for ourselves, but in Naples – home of pizza and pasta – we have to sample her wares. So we went back to the Bufala restaurant, which turned out to be owned by the Bufala brothers, as well as specialising in buffalo products (including buffalo). Not only was it another of Giancarlo's recommended restaurants, but it was in his top ten, and we found a way of not eating the buffalo meat, which was to have mozzarella and ricotta based things, and vegetables.

So, we ate green beans in garlic and oil, ricotta based gnocchi in tomato basil sauce, roast aubergine with ricotta (or was it mozzarella?) and a buffalo ricotta based cheese cake dessert topped with chocolate sauce. It was all really good, and the story of the Bufala brothers was interesting too.

Naples 11 and 13 May

11 May Latte' e Liett' apartment directly opposite the ferry terminal in Naples (overlooking Via Cristofero Colombo)


If you're dieting, don't come to Italy and especially, don't come to Naples. You'll be seduced. But I'd better start at the beginning of the day.
We untied our rope at 8am after sleeping soundly on a calm sea, wheeled our bikes off (before the cars) hugged Heather and Leon goodbye and made our way to our apartment at the end of the ferry terminal.
We were met by the owner's mother, a dynamic and friendly ex-teacher who has just retired. She spent 30 mins giving us a run-down an all the best things to see in Naples, and then invited us to cycle a few kilometres along the harbour front with her. She was on her way home. After stowing our luggage in the little hallway outside the room, we set off. She began by carefully cycling the wrong way up a busy three lane thoroughfare, and we were thus initiated into Neapolitan road rules. She explained it wasn't safe to leave the bikes tied up, even with the massive lock we've been hauling around, because we'd find bits (brakes, gears, etc) missing off them when we returned. Armed with this knowledge we decided to use foot and bus in Naples and leave our bikes chained to a pipe in our building's downstairs lightwell/courtyard.

We rode home along Via Roma pedestrian street. In the Piazza del Plebiscite there was a fleet of about 25 police motorbikes standing ready, and police conferring in groups. Italians take uniforms seriously and wear them proudly. Supermarket staff, train staff, cafe staff, bus drivers. Police are no exception. Here, they wear black knee-length boots, and their navy blue tucked in trousers have a broad mauve stripe running down the outside. It looks pretty gorgeous. Less impressive to us, is the lolly-pop looking thing they use when directing traffic. It's about a foot long altogether – a white plastic stick with a red circle edged with white on the end. As we were nearing our apartment for our 1pm meeting with the owner, we saw a police chase by Guardia de Finanza (in charge of tax-evasion, drug smuggling and illegal immigrants etc) – two cars with sirens on, blowing whistles, and frantically waving lolly-pops out of the front passenger window went charging around a corner then lurched to a halt, leaving a mere inch between them and the car in front, stuck in traffic.

Neapolitan traffic is full-on – cars and motor bikes jostle for space, and we need our Vietnamese road crossing techniques to do as locals do on pedestrian crossings. If you are SURE the cars coming have seen you, you can step out and they'll swerve, charge ahead, deviate, slow slightly, or ….... if all else fails, as the only possible alternative to running you down …....admit defeat and stop.

The city is crawling with fantastic buildings and churches, housing priceless sculpture, frescoes and paintings. Piazza del Nilo has been called that for 2000 years, first named by the Egyptian immigrants who settled in that part of the city. Our landlord's mother, Lia, told us that in all the different housing sections of the city, “elegant” people live right against the very poor, and that squalid/gorgeous juxtaposition was right in front of us. A a church dripping with gold gilt, a fabulous obelisk in the centre of a piazza, and yet grungy graffiti to head-height down every laneway.

All that in a couple of hours of wandering Naples.

Our 'apartment', when we got into it, is actually a single room (with attached bathroom) beautifully decorated in light airy colours, with a lovely cupboard-kitchen, housing sink and cook-top and etc and a little table in the corner loaded with packaged cakes, biscuits and cornflakes for breakfast, “so you will have plenty of energy for the day ahead,” said our genial host. A large eight-glazed door/window gives us full view of the latest passenger liners and ferries to dock and our little balcony with table and chairs, but it's pretty noisy out there.

Having taken possession of the 4 keys needed to let ourselves into the building at night, and having practised locking and unlocking the outer door which houses three of these apartments under his watchful eye (“you must turn the key twice, and then a little more”), one of us did her washing (while the other had a little siesta) and then we uploaded the last section of our blog and tried to select a few pictures from so many contenders. (Many thanks to the notes from you our friends and family, wondering when the next installment is coming)


Our host had a printed list and map of his favourite, reasonably priced, restaurants, because he liked to eat and did not think the Lonely Planet (despite its many useful virtues) was very good at choosing restaurants. We picked the nearest two and went and had a look. One of them had bufala in the name, which was not the owner but the subject matter, so we went to the other one – Trattoria Medina. 2 rooms down, 4 rooms up, in an old building. Murals with pastoral scenes and sea views surrounded us as if we were on a terrace, with clouds and sky above up to the 7 m high wooden beamed ceiling, guitarist and mandolinist playing vaguely familiar songs, waiters in long aprons. The classic tourist restaurant except that it was packed and we were the only tourists. The waiter rattled off a series of suggestions to us in uncompromising Italian, so we said si, experimentally, except that we did not want meat. Another waiter took away our now redundant menus. What had we done?

An enormous bruschetta arrived with beautiful tomatoes on top – to tide us over. Then a plate full of tender, pressed octopus which must have been a monster of the deep when alive. A paper cone full of a range of deep fried morsels. A plate with three kinds of (I think) buffalo cheese – mozzarella, ricotta and smoked mozzarella, and some salad. We waded through this, our wine and then it occurred to us, with alarm, that there might be more coming. Our waiter came back and asked us, with a smile, what we wanted by way of primi piatti and secondi piatti to follow the antipasto. Fortunately, our expressions and gestures were able to persuade him that the antipasto plus, well, alright, shared profiteroles for dessert (might as well be hung for a sheep) - and a limoncello - would just suffice, grazie molto.

The bill was, of course, reasonable and our B & B, I am glad to say, downhill.


13 May Latte' e Liett' apartment directly opposite the ferry terminal in Naples (overlooking Via Cristofero Colombo)


Today we had an epic day of sightseeing. We saw fabulous statues in Chiesa di Sant' Anna dei Lombardi: a terracotta group and a madonna , and Vasari's famous frescoed ceiling – which had many more naked bosoms than you would have expected! Then we saw the best example of a Renaissance church in Naples, which is Chiesa del Gesu Nuovo. After that the beautiful cloisters of Santa Chiara, with decorated pillars in the middle and orange trees in fruit, and even a decorative veggie garden. Next, we walked through some fantastic old streets in Centro Storico full of ancient buildings and archways and busy with small shops and people going about their daily lives, to get to Pio Monte della Misericordia where a prized Caravaggio hangs, called the Seven Acts of Mercy. We'd started at 11am and it was now 2pm (we're on Naples time!) and we were starving, so we went looking for one of the most famous pizzeria's in Naples – Da Michele – and after another interesting walk we found a large group of people outside it, holding orange tickets. Luckily it turned out they were queuing for tables, so we bought an enormous take-away pizza for 5E . It was delicious. A Margherita. The piazza we were looking for didn't eventuate, so we ate it perched on a concrete planter in a main shopping street, and washed it down with two sweet and juicy blood oranges.

Ignoring the fact that it was siesta, we soldiered on, and went to the train station to check the lie of the land and buy tickets to Rome for tomorrow. That done, we decided to catch the Metro to Montesanto where the funicular to Vomero where the castle with a magnificent view and the cloisters of a once famous Charter House were. By dint of asking for help from two lots of people, we got up there, and yes, the view was fantastic, and the cloisters were striking – but more austere than the ones of the morning.

After coffee, tea and cakes we caught a bus back down to the funicular. We were getting pretty tired by this time, and planned to catch a bus home, but the streets were vibrant and intoxicating, not to say photogenic – so we decided to keep walking, and walked all the way back home.

By this time it was 7.30, and no-one eats before 8.30, so we had a cup of tea and a rest before setting out again to find another of Giancarlo's top ten restaurants.

This one was a hoot. The restaurant had spilled out of the building and taken over most of a street. The waiters were cheery and boisterous, making lots of noise, joking with their customers, and clapping the two newly qualified police who arrived in uniform with girlfriends on their arms. We got a table just as a queue of people wanting tables developed. As we ate, we watched in amazement as the crowd waiting kept on expanding. We thought there were about 50 people waiting when we left at 10pm, but the crowd was deeper than we could see from our table. We estimated between 90-100 people were hoping to eat there, though at what time they were going to get in we couldn't imagine.

Our meal by the way was lovely – Half a bottle of red wine, an Italian salad, gnocchi in tomato sauce, roasted eggplant and roasted capsicum, crispy fried little fish, and everyone in the restaurant got a section of pineapple for dessert. On the way out we started to explain what we'd had, and he just looked at Phil and said, “Make it 20E.” that's a little more than $30 Aust.

We walked home to two pieces of chocolate cake – a gift from our landlord Giancarlo, to his friends, and have managed to write this up for you, our loyal readers. The two cruise ships outside our balcony this morning have moved on , and tomorrow, sadly, so shall we.

14 May Camping Feniglia just outside Orbetello

Before moving on we had time to make one last walk – past Chiesa di Gesu Nuovo to the chapel of San Severo. We were very glad not to have missed this. It contained three wonderful sculptures – a Christ in burial veil which was technically astonishing but also a very beautifully realised and moving portrait of a young man resting in peaceful death after suffering, a rather erotic statue of a woman improbably titled chastity, and a remarkable rendering of a man partly caught in a net.

Then back to the B & B to pack and venture a little ride through Naples to the station. This was OK (by dint of using footpaths and our now finely tuned technique of pretending to be e.g. buses so that we could ride up the public transport lane against the direction of a one way street), though as traffic clogged up near Piazza Garibaldi, it was quicker to walk. The train was enormously long, with the bici area at the far-off front. The helpful conductor got us to take the panniers off and there was ample space for the bikes in the luggage room, and for the panniers on the racks. Not only that, he validated our tickets by hand because we head forgotten to, which was better than hitting us with a 100E fine.

The trip to Rome was not very exciting, but it was surprising how soon after the apparent outskirts we were at Termini Roma. Our friendly conductor watched the luggage for us as we got the bikes off. I went and found a ticket machine, validated the tickets and found the whereabouts of the next platform. Off we went. The station was enormous and very busy and crowded and busy with all the shops etc you would expect to find in an airport terminal.

[Phil is being modest. How he found his way around this huge station amazed me.]

Our next train (which went to Pisa) was again very long, with an even better luggage compartment and in better nick. Some English touring cyclists got off and told us they were escaping the three days of rain expected in the north. Where was this happening? Pisa. The luggage compartment had butchers' hooks for the bikes. Gail's was hung, mine did not fit. This conductor took the view that whatever suited us was OK.

Our train headed off through Rome, and, at one station, I looked up to see the dome of St Peter's about 200m away. None of the Romans took much notice of this.

As the train stopped in stations in Rome, more and more people got on, and many had to stand. Commuting to the North coast as far as Civitavecchia seemed the norm.

The train went past Fiumicino and the very station where we caught our fist train on the way to Sardinia. It was nice to be completing a circle, so to speak, halfway through our trip.

When we got off at Orbetello, the ground was damp and the sky very overcast, but rain didn't seem imminent. We had decided to take a hotel if it was raining. The conductor and a passenger (an innocent bystander, so to speak) insisted on lifting down our loaded bikes for us. The station, remarkably, had ramps (unlike, say, Catania, where the wheelchair signs pointed helpfully to the stairways). Being optimists,we decided to camp, went to a supermarket and then found the campground. As we cooked dinner, lightish rain started and we ate in the tent.

We felt a bit tired tonight after our rather hectic but wonderful time in Naples and a long day of travelling. We are looking forward to the weather clearing and to riding around Tuscany.

The Aeolian Islands

6 May Lipari Baia Nuci Camping at Canetto village

Our plan for today was to take a train to Milazzo and then a ferry to Lipari, one of the Aeolian Islands just to the north of Sicily. It was nearly confounded when yet another kind of train rolled up. There was no provision for bikes, the doorways were divided by a railing, and there were three steep steps in. Leon started throwing off his panniers in desperation, but the kindly conductor, a man of truly epic proportions, reached down for a bike and almost single-handedly hauled it into a carriage. He indicated Phil and I should squeeze one into the next carriage,and there we were, all aboard. At the ferry ticket office another piece of good luck: we were not allowed to take the bikes on the hydrofoil, but we were there well in time on the very day that the twice-weekly car ferry went to Lipari.

We decided we had better get another couple of bomboletti (gas canisters) before catching the boat. We asked a lady in the street where a brico (Burnings type of hardware store) was, and she tried to explain. “It sounds miles away,” said Phil, ready to make a strategic retreat, but next thing a young woman was explaining that the lady would be happy to show us the way in her car if we'd like to follow. We were able to keep up in the town, but once we were led onto a freeway type road, we fell further and further behind, despite pedaling madly. Taking an exit we thought she might have taken, we found ourselves in the middle of nowhere. Luckily, Phil and the GPS led us back, and there in the shopping centre was a well-stocked hardware selling … you guessed it ...bomboletti.

After lunch on a park bench, with our mobile kitchens providing polite amusement to passing teenagers, we caught the 2.30pm ferry to Lipari. On the way we stopped at Vulcano, which we were planning to visit for its mudbaths renowned for their restorative '”silken skin” properties. That is, Heather and I were keen, and hoping to drag the men along. The enticing scents of
Vulcano wafted towards us as the captain backed the ferry into the dock like it was a Fiat 500. Plants wilted, strong men went pale; it smelt like a Year 9 Science classroom – the strongest, most potent rotten-egg-gas smell you could imagine. We re-thought the mudbaths.

On to odourless Lipari, with its two main villages nestled into little harbours, and a medieval citadel perched above the port. Gorgeous. The campground was open, cheap at this time of year, and nicely maintained and clean. We put our tent under the shady gum trees, deliberately kept short. The ground is sandy though: grass is much better for climbing in and out of a tent. We are going to stay for four nights because the ferry to Naples doesn't leave til next Monday evening.

7 May Lipari Baia Nuci Camping at Canetto village

We slept well, lulled by waves breaking onto the pebbly beach across the road from the campground. After hanging out some washing, we set off in hot sunshine to do the 27km island circuit. Very pretty. Passed huge white cliffs of pumice, and saw the shiny black obsidian rock which was traded from here thousands of years ago. Went to Aquacalda, a little run-down industrial port-village, then climbed up switch-backs with views of the island of Salina. By the time we reached the hill town of Quattropane it was getting cold and grey - and we had left our warm tops at home. We huddled together beside a whitewashed wall on someone's steps, and ate our picnic lunch out of the wind. Soon after, the steaming crater top of Vulcano appeared. An Alsatian dog threatened to eat Phil as he got off his bike to visit a bush. Phil fell over and cut his knee (we now have matching right knees!) and the dog, satisfied with a job well done, answered his mistress' call and trotted jauntily back up his driveway.

The descent from about 450m (unlike the last one) was marked by good visibility and absence of rain, and the air thankfully became much warmer as we lost height.

After all that exercise we rewarded ourselves with some decadent Sicilian cakes and tiny little icecreams like miniature cornettoes.

We rolled into bed early, well-pleased with our day.


8 May Lipari Baia Unci Camping at Canetto village

Today we decided to have a lazy day and just rest. So we got on our bikes (!!!!!) and pedalled to the village by the port for a look around the medieval citadel. We found that the 'sand' our tent is on is actually mixed with fine volcanic ash. It blows down from the upper slopes of the island constantly. It has preserved archeological artefacts perfectly. Neolithic man is 10 metres down!
We decided to have lunch at a little restaurant back near the campground have soup and bananas and bread for dinner. The pasta was delicious - full of Lipari's famous capers. We spent this afternoon catching up on the diary and uploading our extremely comprehensive photos. We need to do some deleting!
We catch the ferry to Naples on Monday night, and will say goodbye to Heather and Leon, who are visiting Pompeii and then heading further north. We've had fun travelling together.
This evening Phil found us an apartment in Naples which is in the centre of everything and handy to the port. It's not expensive and provides breakfast, so we're all set for the next part of our trip.


9 May Lipari Baia Unci Camping at Canetto village

Last night we decided to do a boat trip today to Panarea and then Stromboli to hopefully see fireworks from the water. We left the campground at 11.30am and expected to get home at 11.30pm. The sea was blue, the water calm, and Panarea – favourite of the rich and famous - was a little jewel of an island. We had a picnic lunch with Heather and Leon, then went exploring. Whitewashed houses, tiny tropical gardens of palms and moist green leaves, boganvillea and climbing roses luxuriating along sunny walls. The immaculately swept cobbled laneways were quiet but for the occasional mmmmm of electric 'golf buggy' taxis, and when we turned to go back to the boat, the sparkling sea was studded with tiny islands – the remnants of a sunken crater. It was stunning, and we were sorry to leave.

On to Stromboli, a mighty volcano with houses clinging to its sides and villages nestled at its shores. People go there to largely to climb Stromboli, reaching the crater at dusk to see the views and the fireworks. On the spur of the moment, Leon decided to do the climb – six hours up and back. He set off with hired boots and hard hat, full of excitement, while the rest of us had time for gelati, and tootling around the island. It was quite different from Panarea; bigger, with casually cultivated plots of land. Petrol driven vans were allowed, but of necessity were the miniature kind (often seen in Italy) where one large driver completely dwarfs the vehicle. Phil was particularly tickled by the Carabinieri pursuit vehicles: two golf-buggies, topped with blue lights were parked outside the headquarters, ready to spring into action. So, Stromboli was charming in a laid-back kind of way. For dinner we stumbled upon a little trattoria up a laneway and some steps. We were the only guests, and had a lovely view over the garden and down to the sea, and for those sufficiently lacking in vanity to actually bring their glasses to Italy, the lights of the mainland could just be seen in the distance as it got darker. (I had to take Phil's word for it!)

When we asked for the menu, the woman who ran the place said she would tell it to us, but no prices were mentioned. She suggested a little shared entree of octopus salami and smoked swordfish, both made by her. It was beautifully presented; finely sliced and dressed with wonderful oil. We chose her homemade pasta with 3 different sauces for mains, cut each dish into three and passed the plates around. Each was delicious. Finally we shared one piece of a kind of apple strudel for dessert, and she gave us homemade limoncello on the house to drink with our teas and coffee. It was all so lovely I was a bit worried about what it might cost, but in the end it was not expensive at all. Feeling grateful and lucky, we stumbled down little dark laneways to the 9pm rendezvous with the boat. We made for the other side of the island, but almost straight away, Stromboli did its stuff, spraying a column of red sparks and fire up into the sky. Most exciting. In about an hour we watched ten 'eruptions' in all, one a lot bigger than the others, shooting up much higher and sending a stream of fiery rocks a few hundred metres down the slope, where they glowed redly for a while. The boat was filled with oohhs and aaahhhs and Heather hoped Leon wasn't at the top for that one. Stromboli 'breathes' during the day too of course, but only the steam is visible. The island itself is only the top 900 metres of the volcano, the remaining 1500 metres in height (and so the vast bulk of it) spreads for kilometres under the sea.

We went back at 10pm to pick up the walkers who were not there. They arrived about 40 minutes later, and Heather was very relieved to have Leon back unscathed. Especially so when he confessed that he had been at the crater for one of the larger eruptions, and had not been entirely confident about the level of protection against molten rock offered by his plastic hard hat.


10 May On ferry to Napoli

Today we bought tickets for the ferry, caught up with the diary while having a bowl of pasta, and took it easy around Lipari town. My poor old knee is still very swollen and bruised from when I fell, so we ended up reading books with a view of the village curling around the bay until we nodded off in the sunshine.

This was our fourth ferry, so we're old hands. We rolled the bikes into its cavernous bulk- ahead of all the cars – at 5.30. We'd finally organised ourselves to have our okky strap ready, but the ferryman gave it a disdainful look, and tied the bikes up with a few expert twists of the rope hanging ready.

We took on a salad and water for tea because ferry food is frantically expensive, and some warm clothes. Once we'd found our cabin: clean and neat with its own shower and toilet, we went up on deck to watch Lipari, and so the last of lovely Sicily, slipping away.

We've seen them on every ferry, but still aren't used to it: along with people trotting up and down the carpeted stairways are dogs. Hounds, Labradors, Golden retrievers, Alsatians – all sorts. The rule says they're supposed to be muzzled, and there are wire kennels provided for them on deck. Instead they stroll around with their owners; unmuzzled, perfectly at home and perfectly behaved. We haven't found out what toilet arrangements are made, but have never seen any sign of indiscretion. We're certain they're not allowed in cabins, but Heather and Leon heard a cat miaowing in the cabin next to theirs, and Phil saw a miniature Airedale-looking terrier being furtively whisked into a cabin a bit further along from ours a bit after 10pm. It strolled into the bar this morning looking very well-rested.

Enna to Sant'Agata

3 May In the garden of Claudia, Rosetta and Liliana, just outside Leonforte

The train to Catania was a loco requiring a high rise lift. This time Phil and I left our bikes loaded and managed to haul them on. We decided that for this type of train two girls up and two men down was the best way to go! The train to Enna was a wonderful roll-on train. Hugely appreciated.

The countryside around Enna was beautiful but the climbs were hard: too steep to stay on the bike for long. Instead all except Leon did lots of walking and pushing. It was also hot. By the time we reached Leonforte we were starving.
We found a little alimentari open later than usual and bought some nice things for lunch. We were sitting in the little square when Angelo appeared bearing broadbeans and peas as a gift. He worked as an ambulance driver and was on night shift. (His wife was at home minding their 6 grandchildren.) He spoke good French (which was bad news for Heather) and loved singing the songs of Nat King Cole etc . He took us to a bar for coffee. Would we like to see the famous 1652 fountain? He could take us in his car. We would. He sang as he negotiated the narrow streets. He also had a chalet. Would we like to stay the night? He would love to put us up. It was still hot and we were pretty exhausted. We decided we'd accept the hospitality of a stranger and take him up on his offer. Thank you. We'd love to.

He drove to the outskirts of his village and then turned down a rocky country lane. There was a beautiful looking 2 story farmhouse further down the road. Could that be it? A sharp right took us to a modern brick place with an unkempt front garden. His son and friends were just leaving. We said hello and goodbye, then he opened the door proudly. A dirty tiled floor, a smeary, becrumbed table. A clean kitchen through the famous arch which his son had designed and he had built. A clean bathroom, a smelly bedroom with grey sheets. His wife rang his mobile and we held a hurried confabulation. We could not stay. The house was squalid, the garden too rocky for tents. How to escape? What excuse could we make which would leave his pride more or less intact?

We said (that is Heather said in French) we had been thinking. There was a nice cool breeze now, and we had had a rest. We had enjoyed our coffee thankyou, and the fountain, and seeing his chalet and the arch, but now we thought we should ride a bit further along our way. His phone rang again, and to make our point firmly, we all went and sat in his car, with Phil, not Heather in the front this time. I wondered how much more slowly it was possible to drive a car, but eventually we were reunited with our bikes and rode away. It was 5.30pm.
Through the town centre and then more hard climbing confronted us. The road was narrow and twisting and busy with traffic which was upon us before it saw us. We were carrying water and really tired. I felt unsafe and scanned every driveway and laneway, desperate for somewhere to camp.

Finally I spied a house with a piece of level garden and the necessary shrubbery. The gates were unlocked and a car was in driveway. I'm going in to ask I yelled to the others. The red faced apparition in the doorway startled the three ladies inside. I know I looked desperate.

I dragged out my prepared question about camping on their terra. They were hesitant. Heather came along. We said we needed somewhere to stay one night, would leave first thing in the morning. They looked us over, then decided we could be trusted to lock up the next day and said yes. They did not live in the house, which they said was owned by the family and used by various members. Not only could we stay, but would we like some coffee. Four coffees appeared, there was a mangled conversation. They were three sisters – Rosetta, Claudia and Liliana. We gave them a thank you card with all our names on it.

The garden was lovely, and the concrete terrace stayed warm as dusk came and we watched the lights come on in hilltop villages and towns as far away as Enna. Dinner was a nice soup and the wine which Phil had carried up all the hills.


4 May Free camp on side road below Troina

We left our beautiful garden and rode up to Agira. It was a striking hilltop town,perfectly cone shaped, mimicking Etna which loomed over its right shoulder. As we came into town, we saw a vegetable seller, not with a truck, but with a donkey!

We stopped, shopped, had coffee and rode on to Gagliano which was a most extraordinary dense hill town built under the crags of a fortified mountain. The road skirted the base of the town, and we wondered when (or if) we would find a food shop. At last, we came around a bend where the road out of the town met the road we were on and there was a panetteria on one side and an alimentari on the other.

The alimentari owner asked where were from and when we said Australia, he said something to a beautiful young woman, one of his customers. She said excitedly in perfect English that it was such a pity that here fiance was out of town as he was English and starving for some English conversation. She came from Gagliano, and had just returned after 10 years in London where she studied history, did a Master's degree and worked. She also found an English Fiance. But now she was back, working in the family tie making business. The fiance had come as well to work as a graphic designer in the business. In fact, they were getting married on Saturday, in Taormina!

We took her photo and then the alimentari owner indicated he'd like to be in a photo as well, but he was not properly dressed. Out the back he went and back he came in his green dustcoat.

So, lunch in Gagliano, then more riding, at least until the hills got steeper and steeper and there was a lot more walking up to Troina at 1100m. The scenery continued to be fantastic- green rolling pastures as far as the eye could see, with little farmhouses dotted here and there. We needed more water to camp for dinner, but were too early for the shops. Our plan to while away an hour or so in a bar fell apart when we could not find a bar, then found that we had ridden through town, leaving the alimentaries behind. We circumnavigated the town once more, managing to lose H and L in the process and found the supermarket which had been closed when we first went past.

The only hotel wanted 120E for a room, so we instead found a free camp in a little sheltered spot on a side-road which turned out to be surprisingly busy. Deciding that attack was the best form of defence, we waved cheerily to the passing drivers, who waved back with a mixture of warmth and amusement. After pesto and fennel pasta we fell into bed exhausted.


5 May St Agatha di Mitilino Hotel Parimar

Next morning we got up and continued waving to the motorists in all manner of vehicles, and they continued to wave back, some of them by now old acquaintances. Heather and Leon found us, having spent the night in the 120E hotel after a puncture. The reunited party continued climbing through the same gorgeous country. The gradient was gentler than yesterday, but the road needed our attention because although the surface was pretty good, corners had regularly slipped away or were threatening to. Blocks had been put round them to warn cars. A mafia built road? Onwards and upwards to Cesaro, spread along the flank of a hill with a saint atop the highest peak, arms outstretched. We had a long and peaceful lunch in the square, garnering our strength for the last 15kms of climbing. We passed through pretty little San Teodoro and then entered Parco dei Nebrodi which contains the largest beech forest in Europe. The clouds of the morning gave way to brilliant sunshine which dappled the road and grassy banks. All was peaceful. Hardly a car passed by and the roadside was sprinkled with buttercups, daisies and tiny orchid like flowers. We didn't need to get off and push at all – wonderful! At the top the breeze was cool but the sunshine warm, and we pulled out the almond cake with glazed jam topping bought at lunchtime to celebrate, then filled fresh pannini with pieces of chocolate.

Then it was time for the much anticipated downhill. All 33kms of it. We pulled on tops and raincoats,to keep warm on our fast descent, and we were off. Within minutes we were in icy, wet, white could. We peered though it, and could see little. We were frozen as we picked our way watchfully around the innumerable, wet hairpin bends, listening for traffic above and below. It grew colder. We stopped to put on everything we had – so glad we'd brought gloves and neck gaiters 'just in case' - and smiled at each other ruefully. Back on the bikes there was still 25km to be endured. Cows loomed out of the mist at the side of the road, their bells cling clanging. Horses too, also clanging. An occasional car passed slowly. Half way down we reached the village of San Fratello, hugging the road, tightly drawn and shuttered against the cold, wet day. We spied a little bar open and piled into its cheerful warmth. A cappuccino, three custardy hot-chocolates and four pastries later, we hit the road again. Sad to say, in Gail's case this was literally true; she was brought undone by a greasy patch on one of the bends. Shocked to have gone down, she hauled herself and bike off the road as quickly as she could, relieved that nothing was broken, though the bruised knee was a bit spectacular.

It was raining lightly as we reached St Agata. When the friendly fruit-seller told us the only camp-ground was closed, we got directions to the Hotel Parimar. The shower was luxuriously hot, and the pizzeria down the road was friendly, generously plying us with cheese-filled fried rice-balls, and a kind of pizza filled pastry as well as the pizza we'd actually ordered. The staff then offered us some of their dinner which we politely refused with full stomach gestures, but Phil forced himself to drink the beer they offered him!

Catania, Siracusa, Taormina and Etna

27 April: Campground at Catania – Camping Jonio

Supermarket at Agrigento shut until 8.30 so unfortunately we were obliged to have croissants for breakfast. You could say it was a selection of croissants but we seemed to have eaten all available forms. We fed a piece of croissant to a thin starving pregnant campground cat, and then felt so sorry for her we gave her half our cheese.

The most direct route to the station was very steep, busy with cars and buses, and narrow, so Phil found a (much)longer route on a freeway-like road. After toiling up and up, it initially took us right beside the railway line, but then dropped us down through a maze of narrow streets, with Phil trying madly to stay on the right side of the road while deciphering a confused GPS with time running out. Finally, we got to Agrigento station with 15 mins to spare after Heather got the tickets. We were lucky though - there was a lift, the train was a nice modern one with a good bike area of flip-up seats, the nearby toilet was clean, and we settled into comfortable elevated seats in a horseshoe which gave us a good view of the countryside once we were clear of suburbia.

It sped past with no need to pedal. Wonderful really. We went by Enna, winding through some pretty countryside and quite a few tunnels, until we pulled into Catania nearly four hours later. We saw Etna from the train, its top shrouded by cloud. We spent a lot of this time studying the planet and working out options for seeing Etna and the rest of Sicily. The more we read about it, the more we wanted to see.

Catania wasn't inspiring from the station, but when we got to the Piazza del Duomo we fell in love with its magnifico baroque cathedral and the whole place. We were after money, but had been having trouble with the ATMs which kept on saying our cards were not authorised. We pedalled off from the piazza to try our luck at a different one, but it didn't like us either. The security guard in a bullet-proof vest saw our disappointed faces though, and came over, took the card and led us through the whole transaction in Italian. (The Italian version included a critical step which the English one missed out.)

Drinks and Sicilian cakes in the piazza came next – we were flush with cash weren't we – and then the four of us did some very delighted rolling around on our loaded beech-i-klettas. The streets and architecture were gorgeous and the drivers very tolerant. Even the mounted police weren't worried about us riding the wrong way up the one-way street they were coming down. There aren't many lights, but cars give way, particularly quickly it seems, if the lead person on a bike is a girl!

We bought veggies for dinner from a lovely seller, who had eggplant and zucchini, and1kg bags of carrots all lined up. We explained we just wanted a few, so he took one carrot from each bag, and then was going to give them to us.

With food for dinner, we zoomed along with the peak-hour traffic doing a 'beach-road 'ride past a little harbour with houses mounded up above it, and into pretty, prosperous-looking suburbs to the campground.

We had had conflicting reports about tomorrow's weather, but weather underground said it would rain from 11am tomorrow, so we decided to take the train down to Syracuse and hope for a clear day to see Etna on our way back.


28 April Syracuse – B&B Artemide

The train to Syracuse didn't leave until 12.43, so we had time for a sleep-in and some more exploring of beautiful Catania. We knew we had to take the bikes up and down a flight of steps at the station, but the train was an older, smaller one. The bikes had to be lifted sky high into the front luggage compartment, which was so small that we had to take everything off them. When it stopped at Syracuse we had a mass of bags to be got off the train as well as the bikes. Luckily I put all of ours by the door just before it stopped, because it arrived late, and the people waiting just pushed their way on while we were trying to get off! Also, they couldn't get the bikes off the platform side, so we had a team of three people lifting them into the tracks and then up to us. Phew!!

Syracuse though, was splendid from the start. The B&Bs Heather rang were full, so we came to Ortygia, the island part of it, and started looking for somewhere to stay. Eventually Phil noticed this one, on the first floor of a medieval building set around a veranda courtyard. The rooms are large and very clean, but daylight only comes from our doorway. Our host, Mary, couldn't be more helpful. We're allowed to use her washing machine tomorrow. We gave a koala to her 5 year old, who was delighted with it.

None of the hotels or B&Bs provide facilities for making hot drinks in the rooms, so once we were more or less organised we went off for a tea and coffee in Piazza Archimede and a walk around. The Syracusans were also doing their evening walk around with small boys playing soccer by the wall of the Duomo of Santa Lucia, which incorporated the columns of the Temple of Minerva. The dogs continue to be immaculately behaved.

We had a pre-dinner drink at a flash little bar in San Rocca and wobbled back to the B&B to set off for dinner. After not finding, or rejecting a few restaurants we found ourselves at what turned out to be a brand new restaurant which looked stylish and had remarkably bright lights.

Looks are not everything.

The smartly dressed young waitress recommended something called coupe andalus (presumably referring to Andalusia as in Spain) – pineapple with seafood, and the fresh fish to share between two. We asked what the fish cost. They produced 2 fish, some scales and weighed the fish..Gail, with a more discerning eye than me observed that the fish was a tad small to share, and asked whether the fish came with vegetables. The waitress said, yes, vegetables.

Leon ordered the coupe and risotto. Heather ordered prosciutto and risotto. We ordered a vegetarian plate to share followed by the larger of the fish.

This was the sequence (at various and apparently random intervals):
1.We ordered red wine. The waitress looked appalled and said we must have white wine with fish. We ordered a half litre. Then I saw her preparing to open a bottle, said no, no, then we had a long discussion about whether it was possible to buy a glass and how much it would be. Management was consulted, and after careful consideration we were told we could have a glass for 3E. I ordered a glass. Everybody else stuck with water.
2.The wine arrived and was OK.
3.Our vegetable plate arrived and was OK. We ate it while H and L looked on.
4.The waitress told heather that the prosciutto was finished and would she like to order something else, but never came back. Eventually, Heather summoned her and ordered the vegetable plate.
5.The risottos arrived and were declared good. We watched while H and L ate them.
6.Leon's coupe arrived and was a half pineapple with some shrimp, but mainly pineapple. We all watched while he ate it.
7.After considerable time, a cooked fish appeared which the waitress filleted at another table then served. It tasted nice but was about the size of goldfish. At least the lights were bright enough for us to find it on the plate. It was accompanied by a small amount of cooked tomato and a leaf of some kind.
8.Heather's vegetable plate arrived and was OK. We watched her eat it.
9.Another half pineapple (unordered) arrived for Heather. The waitress said proudly that the pineapple was fresh and the coupe Andalus was a Sicilian specialty. Heather asked whether the pineapple was from Sicily ( not having seen that many pineapple farms in our travels). The waitress said with some surprise that of course the pineapple was not grown in Sicily. It came from Tunisia. We all watched her eat the Tunisian Spanish Sicilian specialty.
10.We were not game to order dessert.
11.The bill came. It included a non-existent bottle of wine, did not include the risottos, but did include 2 half pineapples. The arithmetic was correct. There was no charge for the entertainment. The waitress did not seem to be from Barcelona. We did not query the bill, which favoured us, paid it, vamoosed ASAP and went back to the B&B - for a cup of tea and bread and jam, there being no bananas left.

29 April Syracuse – B&B Artemide

We put almost all the clothes we possessed in the machine and then went to breakfast in the Piazza Archimede. We had a delicious cheese and spinach pastry, and a sumptuous custard pastry with tea/cappuccino. We toddled back to the washing and hung it out under a clear blue sky, then sat in a little square around the corner and phoned Aisha to wish her a happy birthday, and also talked to Nafisa and Fartun.

We pedalled off to the museum on fleet unloaded bikes, dressed for the sunny weather in skirt and fine top/ tee shirt and knicks. (Phil's only trousers were in the machine.) On the way we passed a man selling bread from the back of a little panel van, and bought a loaf, then passed an alimentari on wheels and stopped for cheese, artichokes and caponato. Equipped with lunch, we had a picnic on the grass outside a church, slicing up the cheese and tearing hunks off the bread. Thus fortified we went to the museum, which had a huge, comprehensive collection. It was a bit exhausting though – two museums in a couple of days, and there was nothing in it that really grabbed us except a little frieze carving of a lion attacking a bull.

We needed a coffee/hot choc to revive ourselves, and it was then that the sky darkened ominously and it started to spit. We figured we were too far away from the washing to save it, so hoped Leon or Heather were home and dived into the catacombs just a a mighty thunderstorm and deluge began. Phil chivalrously (shiveringly?) gave me his warm top because the catacombs being underground were dry but freezing. Our ticket included a guide, and we found them really interesting. 10,000 people used to be buried in its 10,000 sq metres. In WW2 they were used as a bomb shelter. It was pretty eerie to imagine people bedding down in those thousands of coffin spaces. We emerged to only fine drizzle so tried to see the Greek theatre, but the road was partly flooded and cars were sending a huge wash which drenched the footpath as well, so we gave up and raced safely for home through traffic indulgent of freezing foreigners on bicis.

Our washing had been mostly saved by Leon, but Phil's only trousers were still too damp to wear. He had a hot shower and dived into bed while I rolled them in a towel and then used the hairdryer to get them dry, as a thank you for him lending me his top.

This time we managed to find a restaurant recommended in the Planet for its cous cous/seafood. It had everything last night's restaurant lacked: delicious food (couscous and seafood risotto), hearty quantities, and cheerful, efficient service. We walked home alone the sea-front with a huge full moon hanging low over the sea.

30 April Syracuse – B&B Artemide

The plan for today was to go to the amphitheatre, see the coin collection at the Museo and then potter about Siracusa. In fact, we went to Noto. Tomorrow is 1 May – Labour Day in Italy, and a public holiday. With reduced timetables it was not going to be practical to go to Noto then try to get back to Catania tomorrow.

After breakfast, we looked up the Noto bus timetable in the B & B and set off to the bus station, expecting to miss the 11.30. As there was no 11.30 we did not miss it, but instead caught the 12.00 pm which was not on our timetable.

The ride was not exciting except for admiring the skill and patience of the driver in negotiating the narrow streets and busy traffic. I doubt that he got closer than, say, 15mm to buildings, cars, trucks etc.

There were some schoolboys at the bus stop playing a game of bluff which involved whacking each other's hands with varying and unpredictable blows. If you winced/pulled away etc you were out.
On the bus, Gail chatted to them in a mixture of her Italian and their English, learnt at school. They all lived in Avola, and left at 7am to go to school (8am – 2pm) in Siracusa, getting home about 3.15 for lunch. They were amiable, courteous and interested.

Noto was not disappointing, but also lacked a wow factor. Lots of baroque churches and palazzi, whose architecture was mimicked by the smaller houses (e.g. Juliet balconies about 25m off the ground). The most entertaining place was one of the princely palazzi. This noble family was in fact a dynasty of successful tuna fishermen who purchased their title and displayed their wealth by the huge, ostentatious palazzo, with imported materials and beautiful wallpaper and furniture which they changed over every 15 years. Plus ca change. The walls were largely plain in form, but painted /wallpapered to give the illusion of cornices and panels, and extra windows and looped curtains etc. The floors were all tiled with different geometric patterns and colours for each room. The large ballroom was oddly lovely, the rest completely over the top.

After tea, coffee and (surprise) a cannoli, we caught the bus back to Siracusa, went food shopping and bought train tickets for Catania tomorrow – the only bike friendly train is at 8.45, so no amphitheatre.

We walked back through the main shopping street of Ortygia then had dinner at the Medusa again, at the invitation of Heather and Leon to thank us for the last month. As they said, we are travelling separately after Sicily, and may not be near a decent restaurant before we leave. The meal was terrific. Gail had the zuppa di pesce and I had mixed grilled fish. A trawlerful appeared on each of our plates, beautifully cooked. Asked if we wanted dessert, we said no more, no more, but he was surprised we didn't want a lemon sorbet , so we ordered one with 4 spoons. It was sensational. Waddled home to bed after that.


1 May Taormina Camping ground

Mayday in Italy is the Festa di lavoro, so almost nobody works. We were up early to catch the 8.49 to Catania, which turned into the 8.49 to Taormina when we realised that the Circumaetna train (which runs around the base of Mt Etna) did not run on feast days. After a nice breakfast during whuch Gail skyped her mum, we went to the station. The train was easy and pleasant – a modern, roll-on, roll-off train reasonably busy with people going to celebrate the festival in Taormina (as we found out later).

The Taormina station was at sea level. Taormina isn't. We finished up finding campground about 8km out of Taormina, but that was OK. We set up camp, then rode unloaded bikes up to Taormina, which turned out to be a quite pleasant climb. It is a lovely town, with fantastic views over the Ionian Sea to Calabria one way, and to Mt Etna the other way. The beautiful Greek Theatre has particularly wonderful views of Etna, which was clear, though the view down grew milkier as the afternoon wore on. Not that it was all that easy to get to the view because of the people, who were there in their thousands enjoying their holiday. We could barely walk in the main shopping drag. Even when we left at about 6pm, the cable car was disgorging crowds eager to join the mass passegiata and gelati fest.

Taormina is obviously a wealthy place – one cafe wanted $8.00 for a cup of coffee. We ran into Heather and Leon at the top, and had a more modestly priced granita.

We rode down along the splendid, winding Via Luigi Pirandello, past flash houses and a nice old church, then through the unbelievable traffic in the town below (Giardini-Naxos). We managed to get through by riding the wrong way down the one way street system. The drivers continued to be tolerant and, indeed, indulgent.

In Taormina, Heather and Leon said they had decided to go up Etna tomorrow, which will mean catching the 6.49 train to Catania (keeping mind that the station is about 8km from here). After a while, we saw the sense of this suggestion, and bought our tickets on the way back to camp.
Easy dinner of packaged soup based couscous then an attempt at early to bed which , as usual, failed dismally as we went to sleep at about 11 to the sound of fireworks and partying.

2 May

The alarm went off at 5am as planned. However, the plan to get up to Etna nearly suffered a fatal blow when H and L left a bit before us only to find that the campground was locked. The wrought iron gates were about 8 feet high. Ever intrepid, not to say determined, Leon climbed to the outside of the gate, grabbed their bikes (pannier free) as Heather handed them up to him, and got them up and over. He and Phil did the same with ours, and we still arrived at the station in plenty of time for the 6.49 train. The 6.49 train did not reciprocate. The next train gave us only 5 mins to catch the bus at Catania. It didn't arrive either. We thought we'd have to give up and do it tomorrow, but Leon went to enquire how much a taxi would cost to take us to the start of the funicular. It was expensive but not prohibitively so, so off we went in a rather nice Mercedes taxi with a friendly driver, Nunzio, who had a bit of English.

On the way up he pointed out where lava had flowed in the past, and showed us where it had stopped just above a village of few years ago.

At the top of the funicular we 'took a jeep' – a medium-sized 4WD bus, which took us to 2,900m, where we looked up at the main crater puffing out plumes of steam, partly covered in snow with yellow-green mineral colours amidst the black lava. It was splendid, alien, formidable. The entire landscape around us was black and white. We crunched our way over 'corn' snow to the south crater and made our way up and round its edge. We'd deliberately taken everything warm we had, but in fact the scree was warm beneath our feet, there were wafts of warm air, and the crater and fissures in the ground gave off steam. We had as long as we liked to walk and look and take heaps of photos. When we'd finally had our fill we went back down to the funicular, and ate our picnic lunch of bread and bananas on a deck outside. Etna is a ski resort as well. Suddenly a skier appeared from above He was carrying his skis, and had an Alsatian clipped to his waist. As he clicked into his skis the dog danced in anticipation. Finally he was ready, unclipped his dog, gave the signal, and the he and the Alsatian disappeared over the edge. All the way down the funicular, we saw curving stem christie ski tracks interweaving with paw prints which went straight down the slope. At the bottom we saw our man packing up his skis, with his large furry friend happily ensconced in the back of his 4WD. We stopped to say we had seen him and his dog. Yes he said, she loves the snow and skiing.

We found our driver, who drove his sleep-deprived crew back to Taormina station and we rode home well pleased with our excursion.

We decided we'd go to Enna tomorrow to start our 2 day ride. This necessitated getting up at the crack of dawn again.