Few bits I forgot.

Just before I left Ivrea I went for a beer and met Gianluca (a dentist) and his partner Alexandria, He absolutely insisted on donating 50 euros for a pilgrim's shoes which is a local custom I think. Could I give it to charity as I'd just got my shoes mended. No, it was for shoes. The folowing day I found my left shoe had worn through the sole. Spooky.

I also met these people dancing tango in the park. The Italian people are very lucky. We have to practice in chilly church halls but here they were in the park with snacks and a few bottles of wine and enjoying the gentle evening warmth. The couple on the right were great.

This is one for Dave and all at Melin Autis. It's a FIAT but you don'see a lot of these models in UK.

Across the plains

People did warn me about the plains of northern Italy where they grow mostly rice. Flat and boring they said but I said I liked flat as you can get a good move on. What they didn't warn me about was the mossies. They have several million hecates of rice paddy which means lots of still waters which is perfect for mossies as well as rice. Consequently, the bit from north of Vercelli to Piacenza has been a bit of a sprint. I did meet some nice people as I rushed through in a haze of DDT. Every group of men has a joker and in this one it was the one in the white singlet. He told me the pope was in Aosta so I'd miss him if I went to Rome. I wished I could have stopped for longer but thunder and lightning were due.

I think this is one of my favourite photos. The young lady (Veronica) told me the way to the bar where I met this gentleman. His name was Angelo Oglino and had been a printer but was also an artist, has his own website and the nom du plume (or whatever it is in the art world) of Il Palestrino. His work has been likened in the press to Fontanesi who was an Italian landscape painter. I saw a collection of Fontanesi's works in the Gallery of Modern Art in Piacenza a few days later as well as some cracking works by other modern artists I'd never heard of before.

As you can see the scenery is changing as I move south with the mountains far behind and the flat rice fields taking over. This is outside Vercelli, a lovely town but I had to get on quickly as I was being sucked dry.

I've started to stay in religous hostels. They are always really interesting places and much more personal than the hotels. This is Tino who runs the pilgrim hostel in Mortada. There has been a sanctuary here since Charlemagne's time when the church was built to honour two of his knights killed in a battle with the Lombards. I had a bed in a sort of church hall but with really good facilities and Tino was kind enough to show me around the church the next day as well as cook me dinner. The picturre below is the outside.

Onto another hostel in Santa Christina. By now the rice is giving way to other crops and the mossie problem is abating. The problem I have now is the heat, especialy in the afternoon when it gets into the low 30s. I try to get a 7.00 start most days and get the majority of the walk over by 1.00 and then retire to a trattoria. The food is great with certainly the best rissotos I've ever had.. I can't believe how much liquids I get through. Yesterday I got through about 6 litres (mostly water). The guys below whom I met in the sanctuary are fans of different clubs (Inter and Juventus) but they agreed to have a fratenal picture for the blog.

The people in the anctuary in Santa Christina were brilliant. They really made me feelat home in the club (bar, meeting room, football club etc). They also had 4 Italian cyclists so they were full. It is really nice to see how proud and happy these people are to be able to help the pilgrims. I have some other photos I'll print but this system is playing up at the moment. In the meantime, thanks to Ezio, Andrea, Tiziana and Don Antonio for the way they welcomed me.

Yes, it had a bar as well so I had a couple of beers there before an early night. It was a 30 km walk to Piacenza the following  day. The guide book referred to a ferry crossing but I was a bit wary as I'd be in touble if it was not running as I had no other viable options. I rang the night before and Danielo the ferryman said he would be there.

What I didn't expect from a pilrgim ferry was a 20 minute run at water-skiing speed down the Po. It was one of the high points of the trip with Danielo up front drivng and me at the stern holding my hat on. Not only is he a VF expert but I found out he is a big rugby fan and is taking his grandson to Milan later in the year to see the All Blacks. Did he know of Gloucester? Of course, Bertalami is the captain he said. He lives just on the towpath and he put a really ornate stamp in my pilgrim pasport. Great guy.

Next blog from who knows where.

If this is the pilrim life then it's for me.

Down into the Po

The picture above is the view back towards Aosta as we (Rupes is with me for five days) are walking down the Valle D'Aosta towards the flat lands of Lombardy. The mountains are getting smaller and the facility to fall back into French is less frequest.

The valleys are dotted with castles as this was the historic route the French took to conquer northern Italy. The valley is really narrow with the river, an autstrada, an A road and the railway all cramming into a small area. It doesn't leave much room for walkers and we had one very nasty (and very quick) 2 km walk on the SS26 along a road along a cliff face.

The first couple of nights we stayed at Aosta and got buses back but then we got the packs on and moved each night. We had a lovely agrotourismo place in Pont St Martin. 40 euros for a bedroom, bathroom and kitchen/diner and really nice people. Our favourite lunchtime meal is a pasta with pesto which all the local bar/restaurants serve accompanied by a cold beer.

The tiny village of Bard was the only way through the valley which is why the fortress below was built to finally stop the French from invading. The village has one narrow street which leads through a narow gap in the mountain. This lady was giving away drinks to pilgrims and was selling all the touristy stuff. As I'd left my stick on the bus (disaster) I tried on the pilgrim garb and tried to get a free walking stick-no luck though, 20 eu for non-pilgrim and 15 eu for a pilgrim. Never mind, it was worth a go.

This is the castle built by the Dukes of Savoy to bottle up the valley.

Just outside Ivrea we stopped for a beer at a bar which was also the bowls club so I though I should do a special feature for Liz and Mark in Neath. The pictures below show the clothing and the rules are a bit different (unless they now allow vests and running "bombs" into the other bowls) but the guys were having so much fun. The world champ plays for the village apparently. It is the Italian version of boules but I couldn't see a lot of difference. The bar owner spoke a bit of English and with our limited Italian we had a chat about the game and what we were doing. He awarded us team hats which we wore proudly although they score fairly low on the cool ratings.

We were shattered when we reached Ivrea and took the first hotel we came to. Not the best yet but that's what you have to put up with.

I struck lucky for the rest day and have booked into the Hostel and the Ivrea canoe club at 12 euro for pilgrims with a great view of the town and the river. Rupes has phoned from Milan where he is catching the plane home so I'm on my own for a bit. Heading south east now between Milan and Turin.

Down into Italy

There was much talk of snow but the next day was a cracker. The picture is taken from the Italian side of the lake back towards the hostel. I decided to walk to Aosta and have a rest day there.

It's impossible to describe the feeling of going round the lake and looking down into Italy. Besancon to the Pass had taken 9 days and I'd covered about 130 miles and two lots of mountains and at that point I felt terrific. The way down is along narrow and steep paths so the going was a bit slow but the views are wonderful.

When Rupes and I did a bit of walking in the Pyrenees a few years ago it was obvious that the southern side was a lot warmer and the same seems to apply to the Alps. Within a few hundred yards there were lots of alpine flowers. The day just couldn't get better (but it could get worse).

The picture above is of the entrance to the first Italian village I came to. Elizabetha, who tries to teach me Italian, had said I'd have no problems getting water (as I had had in France) as there were fountains in every village. This might be a bit more of a horse trough but it was full of clear, ice-cold water right off the mountain. There were another two further down into the village.

Side on view of the road down from the pass. Sorry. As you can see the path is pretty steep and after 15km my knees, thighs, quads, calves and toes were giving me hell. I wanted to get to Aosta because I hadn't made any arrangements for the night but as I reached Gignol, about 5 miles short of the target, and the thunder started I realised that I had to stop. I asked in a bar and there was a hotel and it had a restaurant. It was on the Via Francigena route and about 200 yards away. I found "Maisen Pierre" (not a spelling mistake) and they had a room with a balcony and a view over the mountain. I was so happy as at this stage my legs were in agony.

And this is Pierre. He is the Via Francigena representative on the commune with special responsibility for the paths. He's holding a copy of the bells they used to use to signal the arrival of pilgrims and he gave me the traditional welcome. This is the terrace where I had dinner and breakfast. I was enjoying Italy immensely although my legs were in a right state.

I got the boots on an walked down into Aosta, an old Roman town. It was agony. I never thought walking down would hurt as much. The picture above is looking back up towards the Alps.

This is one of lots of street lights on the way down into town. The pilgrim is the sign of the Via Francigena and they lead you down into the town. After hundreds of miles with hardly a sign on the route this felt great. The shot below is of the old town and it is one of the best places I've visited on the trip. The locals speak a sort of mixture of 80% Italian and 20% French which is spot on for me. I've got a two star hotel for a couple of days then I train down to Milan to go home for my birthday and a graduation ceremony in Leicester.

I'll be off line for a week or so. If anyone who reads this feels like meeting up for a beer then let me know. Walking is out though.

Up into the Alps

As I'd made such good time through France and Switzerland I decided to do the 24k from Osieres to the top over two days, which was just as well. I took the train to Martigny and stayed there for the night then the St Bernard Express to Osieres and walked for a day to Bourg St Pierrethen I did the bit up to the St Bernard Pass on the day after.

The pictures below were taken in the section from Osieres to Bourg St Pierre. I took time out to have a paddle in the stream and it was exactly like dipping your feet in the falls in Pont Neath Vaughan. It completely aenethetised any pain from the blisters.

These pictures left below were taken on the afternoon of the second day (after the village of Bourg St Pierre).

When I got above the tree line it looked very barren and I asked a chap coming down how far it was, expecting the answer of about 20 mins. He said it was an hour what with the altitude and the snow. I was aghast-what snow, nobody told me about any snow. I scuttled up to the top in worsening weather. I was so glad to get to the hostel. There is not a lot up there just a lake , the peaks and it is cold. Napolean marched 46,000 troops over here in May 1800 with cannon and horses.

Well here I am at the top of the pass after a night at the famous hostel. The picture was taken by a lady from Annecy who was there with a small party of walkers. I had a very pleasant dinner the night before with them. Again, great company.

Melin Autos blog

I was sitting by the road side eating my roll and having a can of cold Swiss cannabis tea (it is a legal brand and very thirst quenching it is) and this lot came past. I've got some others which I can show you when I get home but this is a flavour of the sort of motors on show. My personal favourite is the last one which I saw in a garden the day before.

Back in Switzerland

I saw a fantastic drive past of old cars outside Lausanne but will do another blog as it will be alll car photos.

The trip from the border was relatively easy. The lady at one of the hotels on the way booked me in on the wrong day but I managed to find a room above a local restaurant and had their excellent fondue. The owners were really nice and the landlord took great pleasure in showing the stranger how to eat it the Swiss way (break up your bread, put black pepper on it, dunk in the kirsch and then dip it in the fondue). It was great but a collestoral exocet. I couldn't find a hotel in Yverdon but Jilly came to my rescue and booked me into the chic and minimalist Hotel du Theatre which was the most expensive place I've stayed in and where the soap was definitely worth liberating.

When I got to Lausanne I'd made up the missed bit and as there were tons of trains to Martigny I thought I'd sit in the sun and have a beer and a sandwich to celebrate This young man served me and asked about the walking stick and we had a discussion about why I was doing the walk and what I'd got out of it. He bought me a second beer which was really nice of him. I wish him and his girlfriend every happiness. The Swiss people I met this time were great. Switerland and I got off on the wrong foot the first time I went to Geneva.