Wednesday 31st
For the remaining 5 hours I finally caught up with this blog and listened to the increasingly loud hum of Albanian and Italian voices. Getting through passport control when off the ferry was quite harmless so we raced to the station, purchasing tickets and running to the platform just as the train arrived. Unfortunately the train conductor denied us entry with our bikes, saying that there was too many people and too much luggage already on board. Disappointed we returned to the ticket office to try to get our tickets changed. A kind lady apologised to us and said that we should’ve been allowed on regardless. She refunded our tickets and sold us cheaper ones for the train an hour later. To fill the time we crossed the road and bought some lunch from a fast food restaurant.
Finally on board the 2.45 to Pescara, we hung our bikes off the designated hooks and settled into our seats. This carriage was pretty plush, with ebike slots to charge and screens along each aisle telling you whether the toilet was free and the expected weather at each of the train destinations. It took 2hrs to reach Pescara Central Station. From here we had a 20 mile cycle inland. It was pretty challenging having to put sweaty cycling gear back on after over 24hrs of travelling but we didn’t have much of a choice, with all the places to stay in Pescara being out of our budget.
A storm was brewing on the horizon and by 8 miles we had to pull over and seek refuge in a bus shelter. Again at 13 miles, we darted into a disused barn to escape the rain. I managed to get 5 new mosquito bites before you could say ‘pass the repellent’. Eventually we arrived in a small town and stopped at the Carrefour to pick up dinner before facing the 1000ft climb to the Airbnb. It was brutal but we managed to stay on our bikes until the final 200 metres when the burn in my legs overwhelmed me.
It was worth the climb though for the lovely outhouse we’d rented. The building was painted white inside with three dark brown wooden logs along the ceiling. These were complemented by the dark wooden door and shutters with mosquito screens to protect us. It had a double bed, small gas cooker, table and chairs and a bathroom with a warm shower that held itself up. The decor was fairly plain but it felt like luxury after a night on a boat. Titch practiced his wedding speech before we collapsed in a heap, worried about the predicted storms all of tomorrow.
Thursday 01st
We tried to set off early to avoid the torrential rain forecasted from 10am. The road to the town of Popoli was well tarmacked and weaved through the valley. We made good time and arrived at the train station in Popoli with the sun still bright in the sky. The town was badly bombed in the Second World War. The 22nd March 1944 is gravely remembered as the day bombs fell whilst rations were being distributed, and many women and children lined the streets in queues. All you can see now though are a collection of beautiful stone and pastel coloured buildings, with a lovely church at the entrance to a quiet piazza.
Onwards out of Popoli. We slogged up the steep hill, pausing to hydrate and rest our legs, before peddling another 10 miles of flat to arrive in Prata d'Ansidonia around 1pm. Even still, the sun was shining brightly and we started to wonder if we’d missed the storm entirely. We pitched our tent on the deserted campsite with nothing but one other small Quechua tent in the corner and a handful of mismatched chairs and benches around. We took all our stuff into the girls toilets, storing it in the wooden cabinet in the big wet room. That’s when the winds changed, the air became thicker and the mist crept in through the valley. We rescued the remaining item and, genuinely within a matter of minutes, the downpour came. At first we watched as the winds violently swayed the trees standing smug in the doorway of the toilets. Then it grew more menacing. The rain crashed to the ground and saturated it within 10 minutes. Then it began to run along the fields, forcing a break in the fences and breaching into the next. We blinked and the campsite became a lake, completely submerged in boggy water. We watched with the door open, both fascinated by the strength of it all and feeling hopeless as we watched our tent, 5 metres away, being claimed by the stormed. Then the water rose so much it overwhelmed the step up into the toilets. We shut the door and sat inside, completely trapped without any seats and a floor full of dirty field water.
Despite feeling like we might be stranded for days, the water level did eventually reduce and we could open the door again. A North African/French-speaking family had driven up to the Quechua tent, leaning out of their car and attempting to rescuing anything inside. Titch managed to have a fairly decent conversation with him in French, in which he offered to drive us to our tent if that would help. We stayed in the toilet doorway for another hour or so, until it was possible to hopscotch outside and peer inside our mini home. Astonishingly, the water inside the tent was only minimal. We unpegged it and washed all the mud and grit off the bottom, hanging it out to dry over plastic chairs. Some chap who worked for the owner came to investigate our situation and relayed that we could have the night for free if we decided to stay and camp in the bathroom if we wanted. By this point, there wasn’t much more for us to do so with increasingly grumbly stomachs we set off in the direction of San Pio delle Camere town, only 5 minute cycle away. It was still spitting and the road was covered in standing water. We couldn’t pass under the highway because of a huge puddle collecting in the tunnel, so had to push our bikes across it instead.
In the town we grabbed focaccia and soft drinks, chocolate and fruit from the supermarket, then a beer from the only bar in town. A round of cards and our spirits were soon improved. With the silence and weight that hangs in the air after a storm, we wandered through the streets to explore. It was such a gorgeous place. Everywhere was cobbled. The buildings all made of light grey stone with layers of repair works visible. The streets were uneven, tilting from side to side as they weaved around houses and small piazzas. The doors were beautiful too, big wooden structures frames in large archways. Small sculptures stood in the middle of the town fountain or on the church wall, missing hands or noses. After wandering around for nearly an hour we headed back to the campsite and visited the on-site restaurant for dinner.
When it was time to sleep, we faced a decision whether or not to move the tent outside to the least boggy patch or remain camped on the floor of the bathroom. The electricity was completely out, so it would have meant rummaging around in the dark under torch light. We decided to stay inside, unravelling our roll mats and sleeping bags. The bugs had come to life, with earwigs everywhere, crickets glued to the walls and large daddy longlegs lurking behind the toilets. We both crawled into bed, in the safety of our tent cocoon. Barely 5 minutes after getting comfortable the electricity supply reconnected and the bathroom was suddenly illuminated by bright white lights. There was no off switch and the lights weren’t motion sensored so we gazed up at the ceiling, too tired to change our plans whilst slowly accepting that we would have to spend the night under the glare of the long classroom-style fluorescent bulbs. I woke up at 1am and couldn’t sleep again for about 2hrs, cursing our frugalness and sense of adventure!
Friday 02nd
At 6 I escaped our enclosure. We only have 12 miles to cover today but a significant amount of climbing. It being the 4th day on the bike in a row I struggled to pull on my unwashed bike kit and motivate myself to get back in the saddle. At least the first few miles were easy and along the flat main road. Soon enough though we turned into the cobbled streets of Barisciano, fighting our way up the steep inclines and uneven ground. At the other side of the town we wound around the mountainside with the all-too-familiar burn in our thighs. We stopped at one point for a water break and a couple of pictures overlooking the valley. A small movement caught my eye on the dusty ground. We both watched in fascination as a dung beetle pushed a ball twice his size up the slope. He unsuccessfully attempted to navigated a tuft of grass, burrowing beneath it and pushing the mound with his hind legs.
Back on the bikes and we were suddenly accosted by the horn of a car coming in the other direction. I was all ready to witness an angry Italian motorist when two smiling faces popped out the window instead. Josie and James, the happy couple to be, cheered as they drove down the mountainside past us, off to the supermarket before all the guests arrived.
When we eventually reached Santo Stefano di Sessanio we couldn’t check into our rooms so cleaned off what grime we could with a wet wipe then shared a beer with Josie and James before the other guests arrived. The rest of the day was filled with a lot of introductions and pleasant conversation. All Titch’s Barts friends were very friendly and looked after me when he had to disappear to practice parts of the ceremony before the big day tomorrow.
Saturday 03rd
Titch was nervous when we woke up, having not slept well. He managed to hold it together much better than I could’ve thought and soon we were on the buses taking us to the mountainside, the venue of the ceremony if the storm held off. It was far from luxurious Italian weather and we all shivered in our seats as the wind whipped around the chairs, uninterrupted in the exposed terrain. Despite this, the ceremony was beautiful and Titch did an incredible job. I was so proud to watch him up there, speaking so eloquently. The sheets with his speech written on were held to the folder with my hair pins - somewhat successfully - but thankfully Titch had practised enough to have memorised the end of sentences when the pages became unruly in the wind.
After the ceremony we gathered on the terrace and in the dining room for drinks and dinner, finishing the evening with cocktails and dancing in the bar.
Sunday 04th
After a tasty breakfast and coca-colas on the piazza with the remaining wedding guests, we waved goodbye to everyone and set off down the hill to L’Aquila. Both of us felt pretty rough (T more than me) but thankfully the cycle was only 17 miles and largely downhill. A few miles after we set off we stopped to admire the view. We had a fairly heavy conversation about our future and direction - probably not the best time for it!
Our Airbnb was a small outhouse, with a bedroom, bathroom and kitchen. It wasn’t much to write home about (sheets weren’t even included but the host kindly gave us some for the night) but the place was clean and more than adequate for us. Having skipped lunch, we were forced to cycling the extra miles into the centre of L’Aquila to visit the supermarket. Unfortunately for him, Titch’s hangover hit full whack whilst cycling the hilly roads, worsened by an empty stomach and the strong sun. He was relieved when we arrived back home and slept not long after.
Monday 05th
We woke up early to prepare for another interview for Western Health, Australia. I went first. The questions were quite generic. It didn’t go amazingly but it wasn’t a car crash. Setting off on the bikes we were both relieved that it was over and our hangovers had finally gone. The climb out of L’Aquila was steep and I realised how much of the power in my legs had gone. My stamina is still there but my muscles are so exhausted I could do nothing but allow the pedals to turn at their own speed and have Titch wait for me at the top. After 7 miles we stopped for a coffee at a small cafe. I tried to order in my best Italian and managed to get us both espresso shots. At least it still achieved the required caffeine hit.
We headed on further, up and down a few more times. We covered 20 miles before we found a spot for lunch. The town (Antrodoco) was so picturesque. It was covered in Italian flag bunting. All the buildings were built high with characteristic pastel shades. They were close together resulting in narrow cobbled streets.
The cycle on to Rieti was quite gruelling, therefore it was a pleasant surprise that our Airbnb on arrival was one of the nicest yet. We had a lovely little outhouse with a bedroom/dining room in one, kitchen and bathroom. The host had put in milk and home-grown grapes and pears in the fridge for us. There was coffee/tea/salt/pepper – simple amenities we have so frequently been without. There were fresh croissants on the table with jams/honey for our breakfast. The bathroom had shampoo and conditioner, soap and hand towels. It doesn’t sound like much but it really brightened up our afternoon!
We went out to the town of Rieti and sat with soft drinks in the dappled sunshine playing cards. Rieti is home to the Piazza San Rufo, the Umbilicus Italiae (the dead centre of Italy). It also had an impressive castle and an apparent network of underground Roman viaducts, created in the 3rd century BC to bring the street up to a higher level in order to avoid flooding. Many of the residential doors were twice the height of humans set in grand stone archways, giving the impression they once had other purposes, perhaps for stables. We didn’t have time (or energy) to explore in detail but enjoyed the evening simply wandering around.
Tuesday 06th
Today was our last day on the bikes. Who would’ve thought we’d ever get here! To end in true fashion, we had 45 miles to cover in order to finish in the dreamy city of Rome. We packed the bags for the final time, coated our limbs in factor 30, donned our caps and helmets and cheesily high-fived as we set off down the street. We had to go back through Rieti and then along the main roads. Komoot, of course, couldn’t let us end the trip without taking us back down a dirt track. It was exhausting pushing the bikes, although I was kept entertained by the dozens of scuttling lizards dashing for the shrubbery as we trundled through. There was no clear spot for lunch so we peeled off at Montelibretti. The town was pretty, although all the restaurants and supermarkets were closed for the ‘holiday’. We were hot and sweaty and tired by this point so grabbed some sweet pasties from the bakery before cycling the further 10 miles to Mentana. After about 5 miles Komoot tested our patience again, winding us through farmers fields and eventually to a path that only a tractor could get down. Massive boulders protruded out of the dirt. I highly doubt even a 4x4 could make it through. We pushed our bikes for over a mile, both frustrated, overheating and downright ready to give up by this point!
As with all the challenges though we eventually found tarmac again and managed to get things back on track. We stopped at a supermarket for something doughy and something fresh. It was another 10 miles to our accommodation from here. When we eventually cycled into the rather shabby estate it took 20 minutes for the host to meet us at the door, in which I was bitten another handful of times by the beloved mosquitoes. There’s no rest for the wicked and I headed straight back out to the supermarket whilst Titch went off to a packaging shop in search of 50m of bubble wrap. Frustratingly he discovered they didn’t sell such a thing, but was redirected to a Chinese bazaar which thankfully had the goods. By 8pm we were back inside, feeling much more positive, knowing that we didn’t have to leave the Aircon room again and cooked dinner for ourselves, washed down with a cheap bottle of white Sauvignon. We reflected on the trip – the highs, the lows, the heat, the smiles, the views, the burning thighs… it’s been quite spectacular and I think we’re both quite proud of ourselves. We totted up the calculations from Strava - 660 miles and >40,000ft of climbing. Not too shabby.
Wednesday 07th
This was the final day of our trip. We wanted a day in Rome because of how much we enjoyed the city last year and because we hadn’t been able to see the Vatican/Sistine chapel on that visit. We set off for the Metro at 7.30, arriving early at the gates of Vatican City and so finding time to grab an overpriced iced coffee from a local café. Men carrying an assortment of scarfs and pashmina‘s, selling them to and unsuitably clad tourist in the queues, regularly dashed past us as they were chased away by armed guards. We lined up at the tourist office for our ticket in, and soon were walking the great halls of the Vatican, in awe of the exhibits they had on show. There is a huge collection of Egyptian artefacts. I’ve never seen a decorated coffin in real life. The detailed drawings and hieroglyphics created thousands of years BC were breathtaking. The colours that have marvellously stood the test of time and still shine so proudly. There were old clay squares with tiny inscriptions – reportedly important documents. Amazing jewellery and decorations were also on display. Apparently the pope purchased this collection, at the time that so many artefacts were being discovered in Egypt. However it’s a bit uncomfortable to see so many treasures removed from the country they were found and placed in beautiful buildings for western eyes.
We spent the rest of the day wandering around Rome, revisiting the Trevi Fountain and sharing celebratory Aperol Sprintz at the Piazza Navona. Rome is such a stunning city, I could wander between the colourful building all day.
Thursday 08th
The time has arrived for us to head back home. I finally ditched the boot, we packed up the bikes and made our way to the airport. Loading them on to the 'heavy goods' conveyor belt was stressful - lets hope they make the journey in one piece again!
Back in the UK I had to transverse across London, arriving in Bermondsey with a very bruised shoulder after carry my bike (still packaged up) from trains to buses. Parting ways with Titch was emotional, but I think we're ready to start the next part of our F3 year (and rest our weary legs!). We've had such a fantastic bike-touring holiday - we're already planning the next one. Until then, I'm very thankful to have this blog and photos to look back on. It's been one of the best trips I've ever done.
To end up, here a few final photos which Titch took on his camera that I couldn't work out the date/time of. Thought they were still worth including.
This featured blog entry was written by katiebeckett from the blog First cycling trip to Europe 2022.
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