Brand New Day

Bikepacking Le Marche – Day 1

Well this post is certainly long over due. Now having been back in the UK for seven weeks, so much of our time in Italy is fading in to a sepia-toned memory. So I thought I’d better record our last hoorah before it was forgotten forever.

To conclude our time in Italy we decided to embark on one last adventure. After 18 months in the country we only had a couple of the 20 regions of Italy that we hadn’t been to. (Not bad during covid times!) One of these regions was Le Marche. Now I must admit I’d never heard of Le Marche until I learnt it’s where one of my very good friends is from. It’s a relatively small, unassuming, beautiful gem of a place that is yet to make it on to the mainstream tourist trail. On the East coast of the country, nestled in between Emila Romagna, Umbria and Abruzzo; Le Marche is a region with so much to offer.

Ernest Hemingway once said: ‘It is by riding a bicycle that you learn the contours of a country best, since you have to sweat up the hills and coast down them. Thus you remember them as they actually are, while in a motor car only a high hill impresses you, and you have no such accurate remembrance of the country you have driven through as you gain by riding a bicycle.’ And I quite agree! So we plotted a route, packed our saddle bags and set off on our last Italian adventure.

Day 1

Our start point was actually just over the border in Umbria, a small medieval town called Norcia. This is somewhere we had saved on our ‘Want to Go’ list as we learnt it was famous for its food! It didn’t disappoint. We thought it prudent and responsible to make sure we were sufficiently fuelled and hydrated the night before, so only 4 courses and a carafe of wine would suffice in a gorgeous restaurant called the Salsiccia Bar (yes sausage bar!)

Norcia is a magical but moving town in equal measure. In August 2016 this mountainous area of central Italy was struck by an earthquake which was to have a devastating effect. Followed by several more tremors in the following months the town was severely damaged. The walled exterior doesn’t give much away but once inside, the small, narrow streets are made even narrower by the huge amount of scaffolding. In fact it was easier to spot a building which wasn’t clad in scaffolding. It seemed the whole town was being held together by a giant lattice of poles. The once impressive cathedral in the main square just had one side still standing, it’s front facade stood defiantly, if you were to approach from the other side of the piazza it would take some time to realise the rest of the building was missing, like some strange movie set. In true determined Italian style, the locals demonstrated strength in the face of adversity and moved their precious shops selling local produce and quaint gifts to a new site just outside of the walls. Five years on one wonders if the town will ever return to how it was, a place without the constant presence of builders signs, plastic orange fencing and towering scaffolding but for now life goes on in this brave little town.

After a comfortable night at the lovely Casale nel Parco Agriturismo on the edge of town, we loaded our bikes and set off………and went the great distance of 2KM in to town for breakfast! Well we couldn’t start the day without it! Fuelled on chocolate croissants and cappuccinos we did actually start the journey properly and went straight in to a 7 mile long climb! As delicious as the breakfast was, I was slightly concerned I’d be seeing it again! But with the sun starting it’s inevitable, daily ascent in to a bright blue, cloudless sky we soon got in to a rhythm and before long we had the road to ourselves as we left civilisation behind for a little while. The climb went on and on offering panoramic views of the valley floor below until we reached a roundabout joining a busier road which we followed to the top. Here we discovered a tunnel. Not just any tunnel but one with a No Cycling sign. Our hearts sank. After consulting the map and deciding cycling all the way back down, round and up an actual mountain was not going to happen, as the only alternative suggested, we decided to leg it through the tunnel. To begin with it was fine, quiet, no traffic either way, well lit and wide. Then batches of traffic came through from ahead in waves, they started beeping and waving at us, which we soon figured was not out of polite greeting. The tunnel went on and on and on, in fact it was 5km long and we soon discovered what the motorists’ frantic gesticulating was all about. There were traffic lights ahead with half the road blocked off. Oh dear. We now had to make sure we got through before the lights changed the other end. My legs were burning, I couldn’t talk and all I could hear was the blood pounding in my ears as I tried to hang on to the rear wheel of Mr BND as we time trialled our way through. We made it! We felt ecstatic at our achievement but also very foolish for not having sufficiently researched the route. A lesson we won’t be forgetting in a hurry.

The rest of the day was much more sedentary in comparison, but not without adventure! Our route took us through quiet villages nestled in to rocky outcrops, over medieval bridges with babbling streams far below and along roads that were so quiet it seemed other worldly. There was a very sombre moment where we seemed to have entered a post Apocalyptic world. After the tunnel incident, we dropped down to a road that clung to the valley side, obviously once the main thoroughfare it now lay quiet and peaceful thanks to the modern road having built on stilts high above. The quietness soon became slightly eerie, the road condition deteriorated and sections of the surface just dropped off the edge to the valley floor below. Piles of rubble started to appear and the whole area seemed to have the feel of a quarry about it. We rounded a corner and amongst a handful of dilapidated buildings there was a wire fencing adorned with posters of beautiful children’s faces, their innocent eyes looking back at us as we cycled past. It soon became obvious this sad, run down place was once in fact a cute little village that was sadly wiped out in the earthquake of August 2016. Now that sounds like an exaggeration, how can a whole village be wiped out in this day and age? But it was. Whilst researching this sad event since our visit I discovered the whole village of Pescara del Tronto was razed to the ground in 20 seconds. A proud, hilltop village that 100 people called home was gone. As we cycled through we could see the shells of some of the buildings, we saw tiled fire places, staircases leading to nowhere and piles of tangled debris. The village used to flow down the hillside in a maze of pretty rooftops and narrow lanes but now it’s just terraces of bare earth. Using Google streetview which was done before and after you can see the devastation that ripped through the area. The faces we saw were children who lost their lives in this tragedy.

The road beckoned us on though and before long we stopped for a delicious lunch in the bustling town of Ascoli Piceno where we had to push our bikes through the thronging market place which was alive with the sounds and smells of the region. We commented on how nice it was just to ride, to be able to stop where and when we wanted, to not be watching the speed and trying to go as fast as possible everywhere. (The tunnel aside!)

After Ascoli Piceno we left the main road behind and started winding our way up a small valley road, the reason for the lack of traffic soon became apparent when we came across some road works. It looked like they were building a new road in fact. Now when in this situation in the UK, there would be barriers and diversions galore closing the way to pedestrians and cyclists alike. However in Italy no such thing. If there’s a physical way through then you’re welcome to take it. So we dismounted, pushed our bikes through the building site, through piles of what looked like talcum powder but was in fact builders lime (that proved a bit tricky to eradicate), around a digger that was being operated by a chap who didn’t bat an eyelid at two lycra clad tourists in front of him and then on to the blissful, newly laid tarmac that wound it’s way up the valley. Only in Italy! At the top of the climb was a beautiful town called Offida where we stopped for ice cream after a little explore of the windy, cobbled streets.

It was then on to our accomodation for the evening, an agriturismo tucked away off the beaten track, up a sneaky climb that packed quite a punch. With aching legs and lungs fit to burst we turned off the road on to a gravel track (I’m not a fan off the loose stuff so Mr BND left me to have a little meltdown whilst he disappeared in a cloud of dust.) Colle delle Ciglio Agriturismo stood at the end of the meandering gravel track like a welcoming beacon on a hilltop surrounded by rolling fields. We’d survived the first day!

Now I know I shouldn’t really be calling this a bikepacking trip. Before I get inundated with objections from hardcore bikepackers, I must admit that bikepacking is usually fully self-supported and nights are spent in tents or bivvy bags. However, we wanted to end our Italian adventure in style so chose to spend our evenings in a lovely room with running water and a comfy bed. The delicious meal, gorgeous wine and the use of a swimming pool and spa were just the cherry on top!

For the Strava Link click here.

The Stelvio, Gavia and Mortirolo

‘Climb more mountains’ is a line from one of my favourite poems “The Station.” A poem about enjoying the journey of life and not focusing on the destination. This is one piece of advice that I followed this last weekend.

(The poem also says ‘Eat more ice cream’….another rule I take very seriously!)

If you’re reading this as a fellow a cyclist, then you’ll understand the logic behind our trip; however if you don’t cycle then perhaps the only conclusion you could draw is that we are absolutely barmy! A fellow cyclist and friend from here in Naples was kind enough to organise a trip to Bormio in Lombardy. He was as keen (read mental) to conquer one of the all time greatest climbs. A classic that regularly features in the Giro d’Italia. The Everest of the cycling world, the Stelvio Pass. It is the highest paved road in Italy, and the second highest in the whole of the Alps. It has been declared as the “greatest driving road in the world’ by Top Gear and is a mecca for motorbikes and cyclists who all share the same aim: to make it to the top where the altimeter reads 2,757 m or 9,045 ft.

So it was for this reason alone that we found ourselves in the clapped out community minibus on the road North, the back crammed with three bikes, cycling kit and enough energy bars to power a small village! With our friend’s wife Caroline accompanying us in the role of chief supporter and very generously helping with the driving we reached our destination 11 hours after setting off! Having skied in the area for the last 10 years luckily our friends knew it well; albeit it looking less white and more green! For them there’s only one place to stay, Hotel Alpi and Golf. This beautiful, traditional Alpine hotel is located on the edge of Bormio, surrounded by greenery and picturesque views of the mountains. It’s ran by the Cantoni family, Michele and his wife Lara with the help of Michele’s father Alfredo. For our companions it was like seeing family again when we finally arrived, not having visited for two years due to Covid the reunion was lovely to witness. We were also treated to the warmest of welcomes and to anyone staying here I can honestly say it has that feeling of ‘returning home.’ The building is a glorious mix of traditional wood with modern accents to give it that luxurious feel. Walking in to the bar after so long on the road was like receiving a lovely, warm hug! The rooms have absolutely everything you could wish for and the views off the mountains are just the icing on the cake. After a quick change we headed down for a drink and an absolutely delicious meal of hearty, local dishes that were beautifully presented. With what was in store for the next day we restrained from ordering more wine and had an early night!

The following morning saw the departure of the previous days rain clouds and in their place bright blue sky and sunshine. An absolutely perfect day for cycling in the mountains. As we worked our way through the generous and tasty breakfast spread, for me the nerves were kicking in slightly. The challenge that lay ahead was gigantic and the constant reel of thoughts kept whirring through my mind; ‘I’m not fit enough to do this. I don’t want to fail. What if it’s too steep in places. I’m not confident enough to do the descent. etc etc’ But I distracted myself with getting ready and before I knew it we were in the bus, on the way out of town. The quintessential Stelvio climb is actually from the opposite side to where we were staying in Bormio, starting in the town of Prato allo Stelvio. So we were faced with the dilemma of how to get to the start. We could have cycled from our hotel but it would have meant doing nearly the whole amount of climbing, to descend, then go back up. Whilst we’re somewhat mentally unhinged we weren’t quite at that stage. So Caroline very kindly offered to brave the hair-raising roads and drive us up to the Swiss border where we could start on the descent down the Umbrail Pass, in to Switzerland, down the valley, back in to Italy and round to the bottom of the climb. A choice we were pleased with by the end of the day! So after a group photo we bid farewell and the three of us set off on a long, chilly, twisting descent to Santa Maria. As we flew (some of us more than others) down the mountain the rocky, craggy peaks gave way to rolling, green pastures with clear, cascading streams guiding the way. We met the main road at the pretty town of Santa Maria and thought we’d rolled on to a film set. The building’s facades were covered in decorative paintings, framing windows and doors and beautifully finished off with window box after window box of brightly coloured flowers. We then had the joy of a rolling, meandering road down the remainder of the valley, much to the relief of my brake pads! We took a right hand turn and before we knew it we’d covered 21 miles and had barely turned the pedals! That soon changed. We took the final right hand turn on to the SS38 and wished each other good luck as the climb to the Stelvio Pass began. What happened next was both very unexpected and slightly demoralising. We’d just passed the sign marking the start of the climb, informing us of the painful 24 km that lay ahead, when we were overtaken. That in itself can be demoralising but spirits sunk even lower when we realised the guy who had just flown past in the blink of an eye only had one leg! Chapeau to him! Our smiles were soon restored however, as we passed a couple of guys from a dutch cycling group, the name of which they had blazoned across their backs….Willies!

The first few kilometres weren’t too bad, at an average gradient of 5% a rhythm could be found and the views of the pine covered lower slopes were a welcome distraction. After the town of Trafoi however, things got serious! After just ticking off the first hairpin bend I realised there was another 47 to go! “Just keep pedalling.” The constant mantra going round and round my mind. The average gradient then kicked up to 8% with steeper sections pitching up along the way. The pine trees opened up to reward us with views of the snow capped mountains the opposite side of the valley and as we wound further and further up one of the many glaciers of this area sat proudly nestled in amongst it’s rocky peaks. Conversation between us decreased as the pain increased and soon the altitude took effect, with it being harder to catch our breath; again the scenery helped to distract us and I remember a mix of emotions when turning one corner in particular. The hairpins are numbered in reverse order so you know how many you have remaining to the top. Just before number 24, the road rounds a shoulder, the trees diminish to ground hugging bushes and the crowning glory of this climb can be witnessed. The zigzagging road disappears up the mountain to where you can just make out the top of the pass. The end is in sight, but it’s such a long way still, but look at the road, what an impressive feat of engineering! All contrasting thoughts whirring through my brain at the same time. And so the last slog began, my legs had just decided they’d had enough of a warm up and I started to feel quite good. I could drink in the views of the soaring birds, the colourful wild flowers and the chirping marmots darting amongst the tufts of grass. The mountainous peaceful, atmosphere was somewhat dampened by the roaring of motorbikes and super cars as they came flying by. But annoyance turned to acceptance because on a road like this, who could blame them.

The hairpin numbers finally fell to single figures and a very long time after beginning the climb we finally made it to the top! We did it! We were greeted by what can only be described as a party atmosphere! The top of the pass was alive with hustle and bustle. There was a row of souvenir shops selling everything from cycling jerseys to cuddly toy marmots, there were restaurants, cafes and street vendors selling hot dogs and pretzels. Miraculously though it was still sunny, with only a slight wind so after the obligatory photos we enjoyed an alfresco lunch of sausage and chips!

There was just the small matter of getting back down to Bormio. I don’t know who was more nervous, me on my bike or Caroline in the minibus! Luckily we all safely made it back down and at certain points I even found myself with a smile plastered on my face. (Before being quickly replaced with a frown of concentration as I navigated another hairpin and a couple of narrow tunnels!) It was such a wonderful feeling cruising back through Bormio to the hotel, where we were greeted with congratulations by Michele and Alfredo. We’d ridden 50 miles with 6,000 ft of climbing.

Great… job done….wine can flow and achievements could be celebrated over dinner you’d think………no not just yet. That moment would have to be put on hold for 24 hours as the trip’s instigator had other plans! We went for a wander round the picturesque historic centre of Bormio and enjoyed a well deserved gelato. Needless to say the risotto and lamb shank dinner that night was another exquisite meal but we held back on the wine because there was more cycling to be done. I had always been unsure of whether I would ride the following day but having decided life is too short not to give it a go I found myself agreeing to roll out the next morning.

We left Bormio and started climbing straight away. The day’s ride had two main climbs: the Gavia and the Mortirolo, both regulars with cycling pros on the Giro d’Italia. Along with the Stelvio all three were so different but equally as beautiful. The first few miles from Bormio to Santa Caterina weren’t too bad but then the percentage kicked up and the hard work started in earnest. The road was much quieter than that of the day before and much narrower giving a wilder, more authentic feel to the climb. Again we wound up and up the valley, hairpin after hairpin until the vegetation reduced and you could see the road twist round a headland ahead. There was one section in particular where I thought I’d have to get off but I kept the pedals turning and then it finally eased, making a 5% slope feel like down hill! We pushed on to the top where we were greeted by the unexpected sight of Lago Bianco and round the corner the restaurant that marks the top of the pass. We’d conquered the first one. I contemplated turning round and going back down but determined not to quit after coming this far we layered up and ventured down the other side of the pass. The following few miles were not enjoyable! Due to the harsh and wild location the road surface was terrible, the road was so narrow and to top it off there was no crash barrier for large sections; just a long drop down! With my mind playing out all sorts of scenarios I gritted it out and finally made it to the point where it improved; I’d never been so pleased to see a white line in the middle of the road and a barrier! My braver cycling partners were ever so supportive and patient.

There was one large hill left to conquer and that was the Mortirolo, a shorter but steeper climb than the previous two, it was certainly the sting in the tail. I can’t tell you much about this climb as the pain had set in, head was down and it was a matter of grinding it out until it was over; you could probably have crawled up quicker than I was going! Mainly in trees the scenery wasn’t as impressive as the previous climbs but the road was really quiet and felt wild and remote. There were tears from me at one point when the pain in my back and feet was just too much, I got off the bike and everything had just locked up. But after giving myself a talking too and a hug from Mr BND I somehow conquered the following miles of incline to reach the top! The rest of the ride was just a matter of getting back and after the descent we found a pristine, smooth cycle lane that took us along the river in to Bormio. With mountains as the backdrop it felt like we were being welcomed with a standing ovation! 66 miles and 9,400 ft of climbing later we made it back!

I can honestly say that day was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Even as I write this four days later my back still hurts and my muscles are sore but it was worth every pedal stroke, every muscle twinge and every tear drop. It was one of the best weekends ever! I couldn’t have done it without the wonderful support of our friends and my husband to whom I’m so grateful. When we moved to Italy 18 months ago I could barely cycle up the smallest of hills without nearly dying. Looking back it was something that I was angry about, the cancer and resulting treatment had stolen that from me and I couldn’t see me getting back to where I’d been. But this last weekend has taught me there are no bounds, anything is possible and to never give up! (All of the cliches!)

The added highlight of meeting such warm and friendly people such as Michele and Alfredo really made the weekend. Bormio is a gorgeous town, well worth a visit whatever time of the year and if you do go I cannot recommend Hotel Alpi and Golf highly enough. We will certainly be back……. There’s more mountains to climb!

Camping in Cilento

Our time in Italy is now limited as we’ll be moving on to the next adventure in October. As a result we have decided to make the most of every weekend here. So this last weekend we decided to go camping in Cilento; I’d found a nice looking campsite next to a river in a pretty area of the National Park so we hit the road once again!

Our spirits were high as we whizzed along the autostrada with Peggy curled up on the seat between us. As we left the motorway behind the speed slowed and Peggy , desperate to partake in her new favourite pastime, sensed the change of roads. She was then wide awake straining to get to the window where she paws at the glass for it to be lowered so she can stick out her head (and sometimes top half of her body) and feel the wind in her fur! She travels along for miles with the wind distorting her coat and her little ears flapping wildly!

The road turned to gravel track as we approached our chosen campsite, however when we got there it wasn’t quite the idyllic location we had in mind. We weren’t able to choose where to pitch up and were squashed in a corner of a large meadow right next to the only two other campers. So we bid a hasty retreat and quickly sought a plan b. Whilst back tracking along the road we’d come down to check out a couple of other campsites (which we suspected would have been very similar due to the proximity to Naples) we saw a sign for an Agriturismo called Il Melograno (the pomegranate) with a camping symbol on. So we slammed on the anchors, reversed up and pulled in to the steep drive. Agriturismos are usually farm or home stays with rooms, a restaurant and sometimes campsites in rural locations and usually family run.

However, Chiara the wonderfully friendly daughter who greeted us dashed our hopes by informing us the sign was old and they no longer provide camping facilities. Our Italian and her English meant the conversation could continue though and we learnt how her family had lived in this beautiful place for centuries and for the last fifty years they’ve run an agriturismo. She had a quintessentially Italian aura about her; petit frame, long dark hair that framed her beautiful, open face which when she smiled just lit up! Her friendly manner was so warm and welcoming that it made you question whether you’d actually met before. We were just about to bid her farewell to continue on our campsite hunt when she asked what sort of thing we were after. We told her somewhere wild and quiet and with that she was ushering us over to the terrace, round the pool where her children were splashing and giggling in a way that couldn’t fail to make you smile and pointed the short distance down the hill to the valley floor and said we were welcome to set up camp on her land. She was pointing to a glorious little wooded glade tucked in between two wild meadows, one of which housed a handful of white goats who could be seen marching up and down grazing on the lush, green grass. Beyond the trees and meadow was the babbling River Calore; this was just the perfect spot! We soon decided we could easily forgo electricity and shower facilities if it meant we could stay in this little haven. Chiara was so kind and refused to let us pay so we stocked up on some drinks, booked in for lunch the following day and then trundled off to set up camp.

Due to the current temperatures where the mercury was pushing forty degrees celsius, we’d opted to take our bell tent for the weekend, so it would offer a cooler experience then the hot, metal box of the camper van! After putting up the tent under the shade of the trees (which was a workout in itself) we walked the few metres through the tall grass to the river, where the glistening ripples offered a refreshing coolness as we paddled out on the smooth stones underneath. The water was crystal clear so we could see the tiny little fish darting about around our ankles and when we turned round and lifted our heads from the mesmerising water, through the vegetation you could glimpse the magnificent mountainous ridge towering up over the valley. Chiara later told us it was known as the Crown by the locals and you could see why; the bare, rocky spurs jutted up out of the vegetation covered lower slopes and in the afternoon light were glowing. It felt like like you could see every little crag and scar in minute detail from way down below. This ridge filled the beautiful panorama, towering over the rolling countryside filled with a delightful mix of trees offering the most varied palette of greens I’ve seen. It stretched from the left and disappeared off down the valley prompting one to wonder where it goes.

The evening was spent relaxing over a dinner of barbecued honey and mustard pork, grilled vegetables and red wine with the sound of cicadas and a distant dog bark for company. From our spot there wasn’t a soul to be seen or heard, even the nearby road had fallen quiet as though in silent reverence of the surrounding natural beauty, which was constantly changing under the reds and oranges of the dipping sun.

Peggy enjoyed her first night under canvas, not something we could say at one particular point in the night when she felt the need to tell us of an animal nearby by breaking into high pitched, sudden barking! But the increasing daylight seeping through the fly screens was a lovely way to wake up, as though we were in sync with the awakening chirping birds. I got up early and headed out for a bike ride before the heat of the day got too much. The ensuing four hours was just absolute bliss. The route I planned had me climbing straight away, along smooth tarmac with steep stretches up to the village of Controne where the road continued upwards leaving civilisation behind for a while and took me up and along the Crown ridge that we admired the night before. With the sun still not having crept up over the rocks above the air was cool and crisp tinged with the scent of pine as I wound my way up through forest past the pretty hilltop town of Castelcivita and onwards to where I wondered the ridge went the night before. After ten miles of climbing the road pitched up and down for a while, rolling through towns where the locals were starting to stir. Groups of old men were sat outside cafes drinking their morning coffees, chattering away and women could be seen sweeping their door steps or watering their colourful potted plants adorning their windowsills always with a cheery ‘buongiorno’ as I pedalled past. The views from way up the hillside were just spectacular and as I cycled along this particular road they were constant, no fleeting glimpses, the land was laid out below in all it’s glory, rolling hills covered in olive groves, patches of dense forest and distant towns basking in warm morning sun. Occasionally as the road looped in round a shoulder I would lose sight of the valley below but then it soon came flooding back, just as breath taking as the time before. As I took a right turn on to another road the climbing finally stopped as I left the beautiful ridge behind and was treated to glorious descent for miles and miles along meandering roads that weaved in and out of the landscape. I didn’t have to turn the pedals for about twelve miles. I felt like a child who’d discarded their stabilisers for the first time and was flying down a hill with gay abandon, without a care in the world! Except I did pull myself back to reality when the road surface became less than ideal and I found myself hurtling towards a stray dog in the middle of nowhere! I was now in the valley I’d been peering down on all morning and after a three mile climb up to the town of Roccadaspide I could look back at the Crown and track my route circling the valley. After the peacefulness of remote countryside and sleepy little villages the hustle and bustle of Roccadaspide was an assault on the senses. The usual beeping of car horns in friendly greeting (at least here it was, in Naples the horn is a different story!), the frantic chat and accompanying wild gesticulations between friends and the general hubbub of Saturday morning life was a joy to take in. I stopped for a coffee and a slice of apricot tart before setting off once again, dropping down to the rolling hills of the valley below and then arriving back to the campsite on a wave of pure, unadulterated joy. I think it was probably the best bike ride I’ve had here in Italy.

We headed down to the river where we discovered a spot further along which was deep enough to properly swim, so I cooled off in the gloriously cool water before we walked the short distance back to Il Melograno for lunch. Here, we were once again greeted by Chiara’s welcoming smile and fed the most delicious lunch, made by Chiara and her mother using all home grown produce, washed down by a bottle of home produced chilled red wine. We had a fantastic antipasti spread to begin with, followed by two different pasta dishes that were so simple but absolutely divine for it. Too full for dessert we took some fresh apricots and figs back with us at her insistence. The princely sum of this feast was twenty four euros…for us both…not each! Upon trying to give her extra for the camping Chiara dashed off and came back with a bulging bag of home grown, bright red tomatoes for us to take with us. Honestly, the hospitality of some people continues to astound me.

The afternoon was a lazy one of book reading in the hammock and evening drinks by the river and before we knew it, it was the next morning and time to pack up camp and head home. I know I can’t recommend Il Melograno for camping, as we were so lucky to receive a wonderfully kind one off gesture, but if you’re looking for a room or somewhere for lunch in north Cilento then don’t go anywhere else! You really won’t be disappointed.

End of an era

I’ve just sat down in front of my computer to start telling you all about our wild camping adventure this last weekend. However, my mind had other ideas and for most of the day it’s been wandering…not amongst the Cilento countryside but along St Marys Street in Stamford, England. More specifically to number 4 which was home to the independent retailer Robinson’s of Stamford. The reason for this mental intrusion is due to the fact that today, after a two year long, drawn out process, my Mum hands over the keys to this gorgeous Georgian property. I won’t bore you with the details but the fact that it’s taken so long to sell the property prompted a celebratory reaction upon hearing the news of exchange of contracts last week with completion to happen today. Congratulatory comments were passed and glasses raised in joy. However, I wasn’t expecting to feel how I feel today. To say it’s a mixture of emotions is an understatement.

For those of you who don’t know us or our little double-fronted shop, let me fill you in on the background. We bought number 4 St Marys Street, Stamford in 1979. Stamford is a beautiful, Georgian town in South Lincolnshire and it was the chosen location for the new branch of T&C Robinson, my family’s saddlery business established in 1905. One particular day forty two years ago, Mum, Grandma and Grandpa were actually on their way to view another property in town when Grandpa saw number 4 and decided that was the one! For years it was a saddlery business but later we diversified in to leathergoods, country clothing and gifts. For a combination of reasons, in July 2019 we closed our doors for the last time.

So you’re probably thinking, so what? It’s only a building, there’s plenty of those around. To some degree you’d be right, on the surface it’s just bricks and mortar that served it’s role as a retail unit and is now to become someone’s home. However, after quite a lot of contemplation today I’ve realised it isn’t just a pile of bricks. It’s the one building I’ve spent most of my life in. We lived there when I was born, I played in the cute little walled garden out the back, even when we had moved out if I was sent home from school poorly it was to the shop I’d go and be put to bed upstairs on a pile of horse rugs! It was on the pavement outside that a gaggle of old ladies could be seen waving and cooing at the upstairs window, where as a toddler in my cot my little chubby face could often be seen peering down on the world below. It’s where I’d go everyday after school, where I’d spend my Saturdays working my first job, where friends of both Mum and I would always call in for a cup of tea. It was in this building that I received a call to say my Nanny had passed away and a few years later the call to say my little dog had a spine crushing tumour. I was there when I found out I’d been accepted to my university of choice and also where I was surprised by my now husband returning from overseas on my birthday. All these memories and milestones will forever be tied to this building.

Of course it’s not all about the moments that affected just me, it’s also the relationships that were built and nurtured under that roof. Like the wonderful manageress Margaret who worked there when I was born and who, over the subsequent 24 years became like a Grandma to me before she was sadly taken from us too early. The other employees I shared so many hours with who became true friends and not just work colleagues. The wonderful suppliers who we saw year in, year out on our regular buying trips and who, were so kind and a real joy to work with. The fellow retailers on our wonderful little street who could always be relied upon if you found yourself in need; two of who in particular have become lifelong friends. The fabulous little lady called June who lives in a little cottage down the alley opposite our shop, who’s constantly beaming smile so often greeted us as we walked up and down day after day. Also the wonderfully loyal customers who we’d happily chat to over the counter, some of who would just come in to say hello. We are so grateful to all those who supported our business over the years.

But most of all it was the time I spent with my Mum; the hours of being sat across the table from her, each of us working in companionable silence (actually there wasn’t too much of that!) Or belting out our favourite songs at the start of the day. The time I’d spend looking for the biscuits at coffee time because she hid them from me so I wouldn’t eat them all! During our crazily busy times we could effortlessly work around each other always knowing what the other needed and never getting in each other’s way. We wouldn’t have to finish sentences or ask for items to be passed, they’d just be silently preempted and handed over. It’s the hours of music filled car journeys to trade shows that will be missed, where once there we’d always be on the same page when it came to what items to order. Then I’d always fall asleep in the car on the way home, regressing 30 years!

If it wasn’t for this collection of bricks we wouldn’t have forged these friendships, experienced the highs and lows and we wouldn’t have these wonderful memories. This morning all I felt was sadness but after reflecting on the years spent there I’ve decided the tangible needs to be let go of. It’s time for the lovely little building, with it’s creaky stairs, leaky roof, narrow front door, to make happy memories for someone else. Whilst it may not be ours anymore the memories always will be and that’s what matters. Goodbye number 4, thank you for all the good times.

Abruzzo National Park

Lions and Tigers and Bears…Oh My!

Ok, perhaps not lions and tigers but Abruzzo National Park is home to bears, wolves and lynxes. So last week, with travel to that particular part of the country allowed we set off on a bear hunt!

Our destination was Lake Barrea on the edge of Abruzzo National Park, just a two hour drive from home. As we left the grime and chaos of the Naples area behind our moods lifted and excitement grew for our next little adventure. Before long we were winding our way up several hairpin bends past the town of Alfedena which marked the end of the flat valley roads and gave way to wild, rugged mountains. The road crested the hill where below lay a wonderful vista of Lake Barrea nestled in to mountains with the towns of Barrea at the east end of the lake and Villetta Barrea the far end. The latter of which was our destination; more specifically a campsite on the edge of town called Le Quite. Having established with the owner that we could park anywhere due to not needing electrical hook up, we drove past the handful of motorhomes and in to a meadow tucked away at the back of the vast site near a beautiful babbling brook. The evening was spent sipping wine, BBQing and watching the deer stroll through the meadow, munching on the long blades of grass before hopping over the fence and silently disappearing off in to the forest.

The last sound that night was the same as the first the following morning, a noise that I could never tire of. It is of course the chirping of little birds. A mix of high pitched chatter and serene melodies combining to beautifully announce the arrival of another day. Once we emerged from the van we could see why their cacophony held such a jubilant tone…it was a beautiful morning. The sun was already out and shining fiercely, belying the early hour of the day with its heat. The meadow itself had seemingly woken with a spring in its step too, with hundreds of pretty little daises and buttercups stood to attention to soak up the sun’s rays. We had company for breakfast in the form of a herd of horses who had come to munch on their lush meadow that we’d so rudely set up camp in! Peggy was very unimpressed with our breakfast guests!

After a sufficiently hearty start to the day we set off on our walk to explore this beautiful area. Due to the large numbers of wildlife, dogs are only allowed on certain footpaths within the National Park, so armed with a proper map and the information we needed we set off up the hill to the village of Civitella Alfedena from where we climbed up and along the hills that tower over the lake below. The footpath wound its way through the wild and vast woodland, past streams tumbling over rocks, through lebernum-lined little glades and woodland copse’s filled with moss covered rocks. The path was constantly dotted with beautiful wild flowers; little pops of colour in amongst the stone and dirt. Along the way the route gave us tantalising little glimpses of the valley below, where the bright green of the lake would just be visible through the trees until the vegetation gave way to a beautiful view of the lake with the town tumbling down the hillside to its shore.

Having already covered about six miles we dropped in to the town for a timely refreshment stop consisting of a cold drink and a boccanotto – a delicous local sweet delicacy of crumbly pastry crammed full with chocolate and ground almonds. By this point Peggy was tiring slightly so the return leg was spent half in the rucksack and half trotting along beside us. We arrived back in the small medieval town for a well earned beer and after, as we walked back to the campsite a huge stag stood proudly up on the hillside above us. He turned his huge antlered head towards us, stood still for a few moments, then slid off silently into the camouflage of the trees. A fitting end to a wonderful twelve mile walk.

Once back at the van we decided to make a spur of the moment change of location for that night and packed up and hit the road. We drove for about forty minutes along beautiful valley roads before climbing up and over to a neighbouring valley. The road took us through the most spectacular forest which was a canopy of the brightest green I’ve ever seen. The journey was spent looking for bears but sadly, to no avail. Our chosen location that night was a remote disused quarry, on the side of a hillside accessed only by a dirt track. This wild camping spot came with the most amazing view of the huge valley below, a scene of rolling hills flanked by mountains on one side and dotted with hillside towns and olive groves. We had this wonderful place to ourselves and were seemingly miles from anyone else. Before we settled down for the evening, we boiled some water for a much needed sink wash, stripped off and were merrily enjoying an alfresco freshen up. When blow me, all of a sudden we realised there was another camper van trundling down the track towards us!! Clothes and towels were quickly grabbed but I think the poor new arrivals had already witnessed more than they’d bargained for! A curt ciao was exchanged but there was a distinct lack of eye contact after that…I can’t say I blame them!

After dinner we watched darkness fall, slowly enveloping the valley, the mountain’s shadows became longer and longer until they were indistinguishable against the night sky. The twinkling of lights increased as the light fell and we watched with fascination as each distant town’s street lights flicked on. The accompanying soundtrack was one of tinkling cow bells far below, chirping crickets in the long grass and then the reassuring hoot of a nearby owl on his nightly patrol. A lovely way to end a lovely little trip.

Kayaking Naples

Freedom at last! Here in Italy we have recently returned to ‘Yellow Zone’ meaning travel around the region and to some other regions is now allowed; as well as restaurants and cafes reopening for outdoor dining…praise the Lord! So we’ve ventured slightly further afield than we have in a long time for some much needed paddling!

One very calm, sunny morning we took to the water in our inflatable kayak with our friend Ben on his Stand Up Paddle board. Peggy donned her newest accessory, a very fetching dog life jacket with a useful handle on the back for quick extraction if she decided to go overboard! We set off on an exploration of the coast line heading towards Naples. To say it was beautiful is an understatement. The water was as calm as a mill pond, crystal clear and an intense turquoise colour due to the cloudless sky. This particular coastline is a paradise of caves, crags, arches, islands and stacks with so much to look at around every corner. We paddled in to deep caves that seemed to disappear forever in to the rock and past rocky promontories that had been pounded by centuries of surf, shaping them in to monster-like creations towering over the still waters, showcasing their geological timeline for all to see. The best version of a geography lesson one could have.

We soon entered a bay between the mainland and a small island called Isola la Gaiola, which contained some abandoned buildings, but with steps, windows and arches carved in to the stone the whole island seemed a fortress looming out of the water. Between this and the mainland we were treated to the most spectacular view of Vesuvius, perfectly framed between a sea wall and a statue of Padre Pio (an Italian Priest and Saint.)

From here the shore became more inhabited as the severe cliffs dropped off and access from the road above became easier. A perfect spot to build your summer residence…a line of thought obviously shared by the Romans as we came across the tumble down ruins of the 1st Century BC Palazzo degli Spiriti. The unassuming, dilapidated appearance of this water front structure only makes it’s history even more fascinating. It is all that remains of the Nymphaeum ( a monument consecrated to the nymphs, in this case water nymphs) that made up part of the villa complex built by Publio Vedio Pollione who served Emperor Augustus. He decided to retire to this part of the coast known as Pausilypon, meaning ‘relief from pain’ or ‘respite from danger.’ Pollione also built a huge theatre, an odeon and spa complex on the sprawling estate. The building’s name derives from local Fishermen stories of hearing ghostly moaning and harp playing coming from the building at night. Something I’m quite pleased I wasn’t aware of as we paddled in to one of the arched sea vaults at the base of the building! After the excitement of entering a two thousand year old Roman ruin we needed some refreshment so stopped on a small rocky island for coffee and biscuits!

The journey continued around the headland where we enjoyed views of large water front houses nestled in to the rock and vegetation. We passed the last headland where in front of us lay the huge Bay of Naples, we could see all along the lungomare to Castel del’Ovo. Once we turned round to head back it soon became apparent that the easy paddling wasn’t just due to the calm waters, there had been a slight tail wind. Which as the sky clouded over and we headed back up the coast became quite a strong headwind! We stopped on the way back in the pretty little harbour of Marechiaro, a colourful collection of buildings tumbling down to the clear waters. We enjoyed a beer on the small quay amongst locals, whilst Peggy had a whale of a time making new friends!

The paddle back definitely took longer and was more of a workout but the sleeping puppy curled up on my knee would testify to the fact it was definitely worth it! We’d been out for four and half hours and paddled six miles by the end, a tiring but truly wonderful day out!

Cilento National Park – Part 3

Greek Settlements and Ghost Towns

You’re probably fed up with me banging on about Cilento National Park by now, but hang on in there because this ultimate chapter is probably the most interesting!

We reluctantly left Castellabate and it’s gorgeous little streets and headed a bit further south to the Archaelogical site of Velia. Being history nerds we couldn’t pass up an opportunity to visit this Ancient Greek settlement so we popped in for a quick look….two hours later we were still there! Due to ongoing excavations you could only visit the site with a guide, who unfortunately only spoke Italian! So, along with two Italian ladies we set off on the guided tour with Giuseppe and whilst there was quite a bit we didn’t quite catch (!) we understood the basics and still learnt a lot. The origins of Velia (or Hyele as it was first known, then Elea and later the Romans called it Velia) date back to 540 BC when the inhabitants of Phocaea in Turkey fled their homes to evade besieging Persians and sailed here to create a new settlement. At the time the coastline was half a kilometre further inland so the new town of Elea would have had a bustling port and seafront. The site became particularly famous for it’s Eleatic School of Philosophy, which created a real cultural revolution and influenced philosophical work for centuries to come. Born in Elea in 510 BC, the main philosopher of this school was Parmenide, who’s incredible statue was on display, (see photo below). The work of him and his student, Zeno, influenced a study of Plato at the time to show the contrast between the ideals and the thoughts of a philosopher of a far peripheral town and the ones generated in Athens, the heart of Greek culture.

The site spans quite a large area including a hill which is home to a medieval tower and remains of a castle which were built on the ruins of the original Greek temple. There were a surprising amount of security guards for such a site, one of who told us off for taking a photo of an amphitheatre that was being unearthed and to visit some parts we had to be escorted by a member of the security team. It all felt slightly unreal! Another fascinating feature of Elea that we were taken to see was the Porta Rosa, or Pink Door, which is a towering archway leading to a cut through the rock which would have been one of the entrances to the city. This archway, that the five us stood under in amazement, is the oldest example of such an archway in Italy.

After having our fill of ancient history (Peggy didn’t seem so keen on the history side of things but she enjoyed the stroll) we’d worked up an appetite and headed to a nearby restaurant for lunch, Pizzeria da Camillo. My heart went out to the businesses in this area, a tourist attraction like that, which would normally draw hundreds and hundreds of visitors a day was deserted. The restaurant we ate in was a fabulous place with the most attractive pizza oven I’d seen. The owners were so welcoming and friendly and their warmth more than made up for the vast, chilly restaurant we sat in; a room just desperate to be filled with laughter and joviality again.

Very satisfied, we drove on to our next and final destination. We were keen to spend a ‘wild’ night camping in the van and had read about a unique little place to park up called Roscigno Vecchia. The route there had us approaching the village the ‘back way’ via a road that didn’t seem very appropriate for a VW Transporter Van! In fact, it’s steep gradient and rocky surface was much more suited to a donkey and cart! However, we revved up the slopes, wound our way through olive farms and eventually emerged in to the piazza of Roscigno. This is no ordinary village though. In 1902, the government encouraged the inhabitants to move out to a newly built village a mile up the road, due to fears of a landslide (unnecessary as it turned out as the ground only ever moved 2 metres.) The majority of people left, but some stuck it out until the sixties when an outbreak of Malaria forced the remaining residents out. After then there was one inhabitant left, a nun called Dorina who lived on her own in this eerie village until 1997, when she was joined by Giuseppe Spagnuolo known to many as Peppe. Twenty four years later 73 year old Peppe is the only resident of this abandoned village, he has no electricity, no running water but he describes himself as ‘libero’ – free. After years of working as a carpenter and builder, for whatever reason known only to himself, he left his wife and family in the new town up the road and moved in to one of the run down buildings here. You’ve never seen such a wonderfully smiley face on someone who has so little. With a huge, white bushy beard, pipe hanging from his mouth and hat pulled down over his thick hair, he epitomises the typical ‘vagabond’ image.

We set up camp and explored the hauntingly beautiful abandoned streets and buildings. The main piazza is the heart of the village, a wide, unpaved expanse, home to a beautiful, old stone fountain, centuries-old lime trees, a terrace leading to the entrance of San Nicola Church built in 1720 (the interior of which could just be admired by peering through a crack in the door) and is where Peppe and Bianchini (the resident stray dog who lost her tale to a boar) spend most of their day. The piazza is surrounded by a little network of tumble down buildings, some giving away clues to their former glory, like the wrought-iron sign still swinging above the old bar. When we arrived there were a handful of visitors, including, coincidentally enough, a lady from London who’s lived in Italy for 22 years, her’s was the first English we’d heard for a long time. Later, we met two guys who were on a whistle stop tour of Cilento taking photos in an official capacity to try and boost tourism and drive some much needed revenue back in to the area, particularly to abandoned villages and towns like this one. But as the sun dropped behind Monte Pruno, the hill the village is nestled in to, it was soon just us and Peppe. So in the diminishing light we invited him to join us for a glass of wine whilst we cooked our dinner of steak and halloumi on the BBQ. When offered some, he politely said he’d try some of this greek cheese we were raving about….not sure he was that keen though! It was really good to be able to use our Italian, as he didn’t speak a word of English and so lovely to hear his story of how he ended up being in this little village that time forgot. We then all retired for the evening and we had a very comfortable night in the newly renovated van. Peggy was an absolute gem and seemed to enjoy her first, proper camping experience!

The following morning saw us bid farewell to Roscigno and Peppe, as we drove away under a bright blue sky, we left him sat on the wall in the piazza, pipe in mouth waiting to meet whoever would choose to pass through that day. As we drove up and over the mountain range, dropping down in to the valley below to head North for home, we were treated to one last spectacular view of this wonderful area. The morning mist was hanging low over the valley like a white, fluffy blanket but the sky above was bright blue and empty of clouds, further back down the valley the hill on which the town of Teggiano stood rose up like an island in this white sea. It was truly magnificent. On the drive home we reflected on the diversity of the Cilento National Park, it has so much to offer from beaches to mountains, dramatic cliffs to rolling hills but the most enduring attribute has got to be the people that live here. Throughout our week exploring Cilento we’d encountered so many friendly people, you wouldn’t pass someone on the street without them wishing you good morning or good afternoon, a courtesy that’s lacking in the metropolis of Naples. So along with the beauty of the place, it’s for this reason we will definitely be back…again….and again….and again!

Cilento National Park – Part 2

Benvenuti al Sud

The next part of our adventure saw us headed for the beautiful medieval town of Castellabate. There is an Association in Italy called ‘I borghi piú belli d’Italia’ or the Association of the most beautiful villages in Italy. Castellabate is one such village. Perched up high, tumbling down a hill near the coast, you can see why it’s been included in this exclusive list. The village’s name derives from Castrum Abbatis – meaning Abbot’s Castle, due to the castle that was built in 1123 by the abbot Costabile Gentilcore. As a result the surrounding village later followed. The commune of Castellabate also includes the larger settlement at the bottom of the hill on the coast called Santa Maria di Castellabate which boasts a beautiful harbour, beach and small lungomare (seafront.) The route took us off the coastal road and up the hill via a few hairpin bends until we entered the village and seemingly went back in time! We had booked in to the Residenza Matarazzo e Le Sue Soffitte, a beautiful 16th century Palazzo in the heart of the medieval centre made up of a selection of suites, apartments and cute little attic rooms in the wonderfully characteristic old building. The room we’d booked was just beautiful. Adele, the property manager escorted us to our room where we were greeted by the most glorious of views from two of the little attic room windows. On one side we overlooked the cascade of terracotta roofs, spilling down the hill to the sea which was glistening in the sunlight. The other panorama was of a green carpet below with rolling hills and small farms or villages forming the beautiful pattern stretching all the way to a slither of sea. We were mesmerised! The little apartment itself was as perfect as the vistas it offered; furnished in a traditional but luxurious way. It was exceptionally well equipped leaving us not wanting for anything during our three night stay. My absolutely favourite feature though was a kitchen in a cupboard! I pulled open the thick, heavy doors to reveal a fully equipped kitchen complete with beautiful ceramics and even an integrated chopping board! My levels of incredulity led to Mr BND coming to the conclusion that I’d finally lost it!

We were lucky enough to be joined by our good friends, their three children and their dog Lola in the next door apartment (Peggy was in her element!) so after unpacking we strolled the picturesque streets, steps and alleyways of this quaint little village. Castellabate is actually well known to many Italians, due to it being the setting of an Italian comedy film called ‘Benvenuti al Sud’ – Welcome to the South. A film where a Post Office manager from Milan ends up being moved to the branch here in Castellabate, a horrific prospect for anyone from the North of Italy! We watched the film (with English subtitles, our Italian isn’t quite that good yet!) before we visited, so it was lovely being able to recognise some of the filming locations. When staying somewhere like this my favourite time to explore is early morning or late at night. The difference in light makes such an impact and you get a completely alternative to feel to the same place. As it turns out, times that coincide with the needs of a little puppy, so in the quiet of the following morning Peggy and I had a very pleasant stroll through the passageways, marvelling at the pretty little houses, the beautifully cobbled streets, the basilica and my favourite little building, the Chapel S.Maria della Pieta, a 16th century chapel squeezed amongst the residences. The sun was creeping over the hills behind us casting a beautiful, warm glow on the stone and eventually reaching the sea to continue it’s shimmering from the day before. With that and coffee and cornetti from the cute little bar opposite, it was a perfect way to start the day!

During our stay here we explored the coast with trips to nearby deserted beaches, where the girls built sandcastles and paddled, the dogs ran free to their heart’s content and we scoured the sands for pretty little pieces of ceramic that these shores are are riddled with. (A grand plan of creating a table top mosaic with them remains to be seen!) One morning we left early and headed back down the coast to Palinuro, where we’d been earlier in the week. Armed with our inflatable canoes and paddles we loaded up the vessels with adults, children, dogs and enough snacks to sink a ship (I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist!) and set off around the headland, with our friend commenting on the similarity we bore to refugees! The water was gloriously clear and calm and we soon encountered a large cave we paddled in to. The map denotes it as the Grotta Azzurra, Blue Cave, the reason for it’s name soon becoming apparent as we paddled further inside. There was a large window high up in the rock on the other side resulting in a luminescent, turquoise glow below the surface of the water, a wonderful sight to see that was slightly lost on the younger sailors amongst us who had their eyes closed at the terror-filled prospect of being in a cave! Back out on the water it soon became apparent that kayaking wasn’t the little one year-old’s calling in life so we decided to head back to dry land. A delicious lunch at La Pergola, a fish restaurant in the town followed our sea faring mission. The food was absolutely delicious but the highlight of the meal was when the waiter delivered the food. Three out of the four of us are all in the same Italian lessons back at home, having had lessons for a while now we feel quite confident in such an environment, however perhaps complacency has set in! Something that became apparent when the kind waiter brought out a stainless steel bowl of penne pomodoro (tomato pasta that was ordered for the baby) and promptly put it down in front of Lola the dog! I’m not sure who was more embarrassed him or us! But Lola was over the moon and promptly wolfed down her delicious pasta lunch!

The hour drive back to Castellabate was a wonderful way to end the day. As we drove, the sun was dipping down towards the sea, casting long shadows on the surrounding rolling hills. Although on a motorway, it felt like we were coasting over the beautiful National Park, a natural landscape made up of a blanket of trees below a patchwork of fluffy clouds constantly changing colour from whites to oranges to pinks. The drop in temperature with the departure of the sun meant there were wisps of smoke from chimneys like cotton wool dotting the landscape for miles around, seemingly endless in their effort to reach the sky. We arrived back in Castellabate just in time to see the sun drop in to the ocean from the belvedere in the village. A great end to our stay in this gorgeous place. Having to prise ourselves away the following day would be hard but there was one more adventure awaiting us.

Cilento National Park – Part 1

The Long Way Round

We escaped!! As lucky as we are to live where we do, like anywhere else in the world at the moment, it’s easy for cabin fever to set in and a need for a change of scenery becomes more and more important. Something, I’m sure many of us won’t take for granted again.

So we loaded the newly revamped campervan and headed South for the week. Being in ‘Yellow Zone’ meant the restrictions confined us to our region, Campania. A region that is twice the size of Lincolnshire, contains the Amalfi coast, Vesuvius, Naples and an area to the South called the Cilento National Park. It wasn’t exactly hard to find somewhere to go! Before moving to Italy, I hadn’t heard of Cilento; I couldn’t have told you it was a National Park in Italy, in fact if you asked me to guess what it was, I’d have said the American word for Coriander! I don’t think I’m alone there either, the tourist hotspots of Amalfi, Sorrento, Puglia and Cinque Terre get much more attention than this 1,800km squared area of outstanding natural beauty. In fact, I was in two minds over whether to write this post as it’s very tempting to keep it to ourselves! (I then came to my senses and realised the handful of readers won’t make too much of a difference!)

Our holiday started with a night in Paestum, at the same campsite we stayed at before (to read about that trip click here). However, there were some vast differences, this time we were one of about five vehicles instead of eighty five (!) and the temperature was about 25 degrees colder! We had some freak cold weather which meant the temperatures had plummeted and there was even snow in many parts, including on Vesuvius! Luckily we had electricity and an emergency heater! The bitterly cold temperatures and the biting wind meant we spent most of the next day exploring in the van.

Vesuvius with snow
(photo by the talented Eleanor Coles.)

We drove inland on quiet, windy country roads heading for the town of Teggiano. The route however, had us going up and over quite a large snow-covered, mountain. The likes of which combined with hairpin corners and my nervous disposition resulted in quite a tense drive! The beauty of the surroundings were a welcome distraction though and before long we were back below the snowline safe and sound. This particular route had a very rugged and wild feel to it. As the road wound up and up, towns and villages gave way to deep forest and dramatic, rugged rock faces. The dusting of snow only served to increase the isolated, remote feeling and soon the only signs of life were the huge cattle grazing this secluded corner of the park, adorned with hefty bells round their necks. Oh and the odd Fiat Panda coming the other way, tearing round the corners like a roller-skate on an ice rink! As we descended down the other side of the pass we could see the medieval town of Teggiano perched atop it’s seemingly-perfect circular hill, a warm and welcoming beacon signalling the end of a couple of hours of white knuckle driving. (Actually on reflection I’m pretty sure I was the only one on the edge of my seat, Mr BND was perfectly happy and Peggy was fast asleep next to me, oblivious to it all, tired from her run on the beach that morning!)

As it turns out Teggiano wasn’t the welcoming beacon we’d hoped for as quite rightly, most people were tucked up in the warmth of their houses and the place was deserted. Luckily there was one cafe open where we could grab a snack for lunch and where we chatted with the proprietor, who hid his inevitable surprise at seeing two mad Brits very well! The town looked very pretty though, a future destination for when shops and restaurants are open again. We pushed on South, back to the warmth (by a couple of degrees!) of the coast and decided to forgo a night in the van for a hotel room instead! My fingers and toes were very pleased! Our destination was Palinuro but on the way we took a slight detour to check out the town of San Severino. This is no ordinary town, the original settlement was built high up on a rocky outcrop at the side of a beautiful gorge. However, it was abandoned in the early nineteenth century due to the construction of a new railway further down the hill. So the inhabitants migrated down the valley leaving a medieval ghost town which you can now visit and walk around; very fascinating, if a little eerie! The sun was going down behind the cliffs casting long shadows on the derelict buildings, adding to the atmosphere. In the dipping sunlight all was peaceful except for the chatter of birds and the tuneful jingle of a herd of goats even higher up the cliff making their way down for the evening. There are so many places like this all over Italy, picturesque little villages and towns that have been forgotten and left over time.

That night we stayed in Hotel Santa Caterina in the pretty seaside town of Palinuro, where we had the most wonderful view of the sunset from our balcony. A much warmer night ensued and the following morning we explored the little town and it’s marina. We walked along a coastal path to a ruined fort with magnificent views back along the Cilento coast and to the harbour below. Below us the crystal clear blue waters were so serene that we earmarked it as a canoeing location for later in the week. We couldn’t get over how quiet it was. There were rows and rows of parking spaces but no one around except for three local fisherman who informed us parking is free at this time of year. I was astounded. Obviously there are no international visitors due to covid, but the streets and towns of the Sorrento peninsula and Amalfi coast are still busy even now, especially on a beautiful sunny day like this. This area definitely equals, if not surpasses, the beauty of Amalfi in our opinion and is just a wonderful place to explore. Luckily, our Cilento adventure was just beginning and as we drove the coast road north to our next destination of Castellabate we ran out of superlatives at every corner we turned!

A new addition…

It’s been such a long time since I’ve written anything, for which I apologise. I’d like to say the reason being was lack of time; however it was lack of content! Since my last post restrictions here tightened and places closed until mid way through January when we were allowed out again. After the hiatus it now feels like the year is already passing at a rate of knots. From not doing much and having nothing to write about it’s suddenly become quite busy!

The reason being is furry, has four legs and is called Peggy! Yes the inevitable has happened and we have a new addition to the household; despite having vowed we wouldn’t! She is currently 15 weeks old and we’re already her third home. She was being advertised on a local dog rescue’s Facebook page, Vesuvio’s Dog. Her gorgeous little face was too irresistible to ignore so we applied to have her….along with 59 other people! Luckily we were chosen to be her family and I thank my lucky stars every day! After having dogs for so many years, I didn’t realise how much I actually missed having one; the constant companionship, the unwavering love and the sheer joy at seeing a little soul develop. I thought our lives were better off out here by not having the responsibility of a dog, but now I see what a mistake that was. She’s only been with us three weeks but I already can’t imagine not having her! I’m eternally grateful to the friend who sent a screenshot of her to us.

Here in Italy, most people love dogs. Everywhere is much more geared up for canine friends, who are welcome at most places, including restaurants and supermarkets! So the restriction of owning a dog is even less out here. The only thing that doesn’t fit well with owning a puppy is long days on the bike…but somethings are worth sacrificing cycling for! Before long she might even be joining us on some two wheeled adventures.

In the meantime though, she’s already had a taste of what’s to come, with a day out on the Amalfi coast in our campervan and a play about on the water in our canoe; both of which she took in her stride and was a little gem. Her curiosity as to what was over the side of the canoe was soon eradicated once I’d held her in the water for a few strokes of doggy paddle, she then decided curling up for a nap was a much better option!

The Amalfi coast day out was the first day of decent weather in a long time (yes it even rains a lot here in Italy too!) So we grasped the opportunity and headed off for the day. Mr BND spent his time over our festive lockdown renovating the van; a project that I’ll admit I didn’t have the upmost of confidence in! However, I was made to eat humble pie as the result is excellent! The previous layout of the van had a lot of wasted space, a very narrow bed and little annoying nuances that seemed to make life harder than necessary. So out it all came and we started from scratch! I say we…mainly him…I made one or two helpful suggestions but otherwise left him to the banging and crashing about down in the garage, wincing when it was obviously not going well! So we were keen to test out the new and improved version and headed to the coast! We parked up in a little town called Minori, just along the coast from Amalfi. We were lucky enough to get a parking space right on the end so when we opened the van’s side door all you could see was the sea crashing against the sheer cliffs to the right and lapping the tiny little beach below; a perfect place to while away the hours. We’d brought our bikes and before long I was climbing up out of the small town on to the ribbon of tarmac that hugs the cliffs heading along to Amalfi. It was glorious! Such a wonderful feeling to be out in the sunshine after so long. It was a blissful hour of whizzing round corners, blasting up hills and cruising through villages with the deep blue of the sea below for company. After Amalfi the roads were so quiet, with only a handful of cars and a few other cyclists. Nearing Positano I reluctantly headed back to swap with Mr BND and take over puppy watch. Not exactly a hardship as she spent most of the time asleep and I sat and read my book to the sound track of crashing waves…what a perfect day!

We’re unsure of what the restrictions look like for the next few weeks, but hopefully I’ll have some more adventures to write about soon. For now though I’ll bid you farewell as there’s a little bundle of fur at my feet wanting play time! Bye from Peggy and I!