cosa fai nei tuo tempo libre?

As soon as we get off the main road we're climbing more steeply, but at least there's very little traffic.  The road is wending its way through farmland up to Radicofani.  This is one of the stops along the Via Francigena, the pilgrim's route that begins in Canterbury and finishes at the Vatican.  It was the crusaders' route to a papal blessing before going off to slaughter innocent folk in other parts of the Mediterranean.  But as this bloody thought crosses my mind all we can hear is birdsong and cows lowing out of sight.  It is a beautiful bucolic scene.  And then I spot a man on a partially loaded bike up ahead.  He's stopped and is rummaging in his bags.  He's wearing a black coat, black football shorts and black Doc Marten boots.  He's also wearing headphones and he smiles at us as we pass and acknowledge him, but no words are spoken.

Further along the road we stop for lunch when the man catches up to us.  When he realises we are English Chris becomes quite gregarious and after half an hour of talking we appreciate that he might've been in need of a good natter for quite some time.  He's cycling the Via Francigena and started in Canterbury.  But when?  The 8th.  The 8th of what?  He looks perplexed at this.  The 8th of April (of course).  Today is the 21st of April.  It's only taken him 13 days.  And he walked his bike over the snow-bound St Bernard's Pass.  He has little money and is staying at the pilgrims' guesthouses. He's unable and reluctant to give a donation.  He is after all a real pilgrim, a born-again Christian who is doing this to test himself.  We chat for over an hour.  He's quite funny at times and we enjoy the conversation.  But we wonder about him as he rides away.  We assume he's had problems in the past.  But what a strange thing to do - take up a bike and ride to Rome just like that.  What a weirdo.

a couple of weirdos

For some reason neither of us can explain when we see a good camping spot in an open field, hidden from the road, we both feel like stopping early.  So we do.  In the morning it's raining.  After a heavy cloudburst we decide to get moving and manage to pack up and get on our bikes just before another heavy downpour.  We plod joylessly up the road and only smile when we pass 'pilgrims' walking the opposite direction.  We are not the only daft ones out in this.  Radicofani is of course a hilltop town.  It glowers in the thundery sky above us.  

Radicofani.  No, we didn't visit the castle.

 

a fair-weather cyclist hiding out from the shower

The trouble with these old towns is that all the streets are really steep and often cobbled and without a map you have no clue as to which way to go.  In the end it doesn't matter - we are only passing and after asking some locals we find a shop.  As we're preparing to go we meet an American cyclist who is just arriving from the south.  Except he's coming from the north and is heading south to Rome.  Confused?  Not as much as we are.  

the Via Francegana

We mush on down a farm track which is the pilgrims' path - it looks like a nice direct way to the bottom of the valley and it is.  The rain stops and so do we for our lunch.  A walker in shorts passes by.  We ciao him but he is looking distractedly at his mobile phone.  He's clearly not Italian because they are all wrapped up as if they're at the North Pole.  But Federico is Italian, and not English as I guessed.  He just left his trousers at one of the stops along the pilgrim route.  I ask him if he knows any football results.  He looks pained - he is an Inter fan.  But he also enjoys the Premier League and is happy to tell me that my team lost 3-1 in the derby to United and drew 1-1 to Bury on Saturday.  And then he laughs.  Only kidding.  Federico thinks he is an unusual sight - a young Italian walking the pilgrims' route, but he explains that he wanted to see more of his own country after travelling around the world.  Most of the walkers we see are much older, and in groups, so maybe he isn't a typical young Italian.

Federico, a sad Inter fan and a happy pilgrim

 In the late afternoon we reach Acquapendente after a hair-raising run on the main road.  We're no longer used to being on a main road and we're happy to leave it again, even though it means a climb.  In fact, it's the rush hour and even the small road is busy with traffic.  A little untended vineyard provides us with quiet camping.

We are changing direction and heading west to Pitigliano because it sounds like a nice place to visit.  The landscape is different here, with lots of small valleys and canyons gutting through the land.  It means the road is constantly up and down.  We reach our destination via the dramatically located Sorano, a large, old village jammed into a gap above a river, a castle dominating all directions.  These places get tourists every day and deservedly so.  Their setting is wooded gorges and narrow ridges.  We're not high up but it feels like we are.  

Sorano

We take a room in Pitigliano so that we can pause for a proper look around and for some walking.  The first afternoon we're wandering the narrow streets that are deserted as the afternoon siesta has begun.  Down one alley I see some money on the floor.  I pick it up.  It's 100 euros.  I'm astounded.  I've never seen one before.  I look around.  Nobody, nothing, just the wind blowing through the alley.  I begin to take the stairs back to the street where Gayle is when I notice another note - another hundred and then another, a fifty.  Two hundred and fifty euros.  What to do?  I fold them into my pocket and nonchalantly walk on.  I decide that probably an Italian tourist dropped the notes when pulling something out of their pocket.  The Italians don't usually use bank cards.  We decide to dine out for a change and after the initial exhilaration of finding the money I suddenly feel like it's dirty money. I want to get rid of it as soon as possible.  Normally our evenings are self-catered dinners so it's a nice change.

Pitigliano, where the streets are full of money

The most unusual attraction in Pitigliano is the network of dug out paths that run across the surrounding valleys.  These Via Cave were dug out in the Etruscan era and some are so deep that the walls are three fo four metres high.  Walking them is a strange experience because no-one knows why the Etruscans dug them.  

one of the Via Cave

Pitigliano by night