Distance Walked: 1150 miles
Current No. Blisters: Could still be 2, but again I’m not actually sure!
The first thing to mention on this update is that thanks to the hard work of the team at St Wilfrid’s, we now have a working JustGiving page for the Vestry Project, which this walk is in support of – if you are interested in contributing to that, there’s more information around the website (any donations to St Wilfrid’s Vestry Project are very much appreciated – thank you for your support!)
I had a rather pleasant day in Piacenza in the end – it was nice to be a tourist again, if only for a short while. Indeed, there is a hint of Tantalus for me, in passing through all these wonderful places on this walk and rarely having the energy or time to properly take in anything more than the most obvious sights. It was a nice change to take the time off to properly explore and enjoy a town.
But the walk beckoned, and before too long I was cracking through the Po Valley once more, with sights set on Fiorenzuola d’Arda (which turned out to be a rather lovely little town, with excellent ice cream). I will also remember it (and indeed the next day’s town of Fidenza) as a town with a highly acclaimed, but locked, church – but with an open bar. I made full use of the time in exploring the local ham (Parma being but a few kilometers away), and indeed the world famous cheese of the region – parmigiano reggiano.
I spent the following night at Costamezzana, a tiny village in the middle of nowhere, where dinner consisted of some pasta cooked on my trusty camping stove, on the concrete outside the ostello (which was rather eerily the old primary school building). I, and a Belgian pilgrim (the second I’d met that day) just about managed in an upstairs room, with a few hornets (?) flying around, and into some suspected nest holes in the ceiling.
The first Belgian pilgrim of the day had cycled alongside me for an hour or so, in the pouring rain. We talked about mortgages, art and, of course, our experiences of the Great Saint Bernard Pass – which is a major topic for pilgrims this side of the Alps. He then requested a selfie together, apparently as proof for his wife that he was in fact on the pilgrimage, and not having an affair!
I left the ostello, and the second Belgian, at four in the morning. In retrospect, I probably should have checked the sunrise time, because it was utterly dark. But the alarm time of 03:45 felt right to my tired brain, and so it was under that darkness that I bade a rather happy farewell to the flat plains, smog and mosquitoes of the Po Valley – they will not be missed. Under the night, using my phone torch to see the grassy paths, I climbed the first of the Apeninne foothills. I was accompanied only by the odd pulsating firefly.
Eventually the sun rose, and before I’d reached Forvovo di Taro I was beginning to wish it hadn’t. In the end it was a roasting, and long day of steep climbs, albeit compensated with the stunning views of the rising mountains, and indeed the fading plains. The wind speed on the higher Apeninne ridges was quite extreme.
I limped into Cassio, after passing a pilgrim gravestone, and having left the plains well out of sight. I was not really in the mood for drama. So, naturally, on arrival I found myself dealing with a torrent of Italian, seemingly directed at the fact that I was British. After some Google translate (and a good few requests on my part to “slow down”), it emerged that the Ostello lady was expecting me to be Hungarian. Apparently over the phone, I successfully managed to convince them that I was Hungarian, without even trying, and they were now trying to work out if there was another Alexander, this one from Hungary, lost out on the mountains. After explaining the situation, and paying a rather steep fee, I managed to slip away for a shower.
Tiredness quickly slipped away after the shower, and meeting some other pilgrims at the Ostello. We popped out for drinks, and then for dinner (more pizza), and finished off with a few too many grappas.
This morning was going to be an early rise, but the previous night took a toll to the tune of a few hours (up at seven). Clear skies, stunning mountain views, and sufficient altitude for a cool morning made for a fantastic start to the day. I’d walked ten kilometers before the breakfast croissant and coffee in Berceto. In a bit of a race, on some overgrown shortcut paths, I made it down from Berceto to Pontremoli in time for the 17:30 closing of the castle here, my accommodation for the night (half the price of yesterday’s Ostello!). I’m rather red, quite tired, and ready for an easier day tomorrow, (down to Aulla). At some point soon, I might catch a glimpse of the Mediterranean. Oh, and I’ve briefly entered Tuscany. I’ll shortly be leaving for Liguria (by the sea) and then returning to Tuscany.
I’m thinking it’s not more than twenty days now to Rome.
