30/11/24
It was a quiet night. The room was warm and we had to open the window in the early morning to let in the crisp cold air. There was no kettle or coffee machine here so we left promptly at around half 8.
We’d decided to continue using the Bicitalia route as far as Arezzo, the next big town. As we climbed up the first hill to take the turning to Laterina, we passed some road works signs before reaching the turning at the top where it seemed to suggest we couldn’t go that way. We waved at a man driving past who promptly and kindly pulled over and got out to help us.
It was difficult to translate what he was saying as we didn’t have any signal, but the gist seemed to be that we could go that way but we’d have to go down and up again. His hand gesture for hills was undeniable. Just then a group of cyclists came up the hill behind us, with one of them able to speak English. As we were headed to Arezzo, he told us to carry on the current road. It would go all the way there and, acquiescing with the driver, that it would be panoramic. They’d be going that way too.
Before departing they questioned why we would be touring now, despite it being 10C and beautifully sunny! It was the best weather we could hope for. We asked about traffic, as we were still puzzling over the road numbering system. Our previous determination that SS roads were unrideable and that SP roads were quiet didn’t seem to be bearing out. He laughed, “that’s the problem in Italy. Traffic everywhere. This way is good though.”
The road carried on climbing for several kilometres in an infuriatingly flat looking manner. Looking back you could see it was clearly uphill. At the ‘top’ was Bar Bruco. They’re called bars but they’re for coffee. We parked up and sat outside in the Sun to have a small drink. Not long after the group of cyclists, who’d clearly been to bag an ascent, came past. Plenty of other cyclists too. It was a Saturday after all.
The road to Arezzo went up and down in a playful manner contouring along the edge of the hill. It was indeed panoramic and we enjoyed the views of the hills. It was hard not to keep noticing they were covered in the beautiful colours of autumn, but not bare like the hills of home.
There’d been several signs the day before and they continued today. This was chianti country. The route went all the way into Arezzo, but it was possible to avoid it. Assuming that it was worth seeing we continued in. iIt was nice to find some cycling infrastructure, the road having got much busier in the last ten kilometres.
We had to first navigate the busy, car centric, exterior of the town before we were in the centre. There was of course a market and we walked the bikes through what appeared to be a kind of flea market, though we had no idea how much anything cost. Among other things there was lots of antique furniture, vinyl records and paintings. The paintings being blown over in the wind and the stall holders running after them to put them back up without admitting defeat.
At the top of the hill was a park where we were going to have our lunch of bread, banana and peanut butter. At first glance there was another generic German market but as we walked round to take a picture of the incredible vista through the trees we saw a stall that had ‘Vegano’ printed in big letters. They had an assortment of different pastry goods both ‘salat’ e ‘dolci’, savoury and sweet, including the elusive vegan dolci cannoli!
We stocked up and sat on a bench in the Sun enjoying the food. Afterwards, we found a descent from the city that avoided the market and began heading west. We were on excellent cycle paths, this being a developed part of the route called Sentiero della Bonifica. After popping to a supermarket at the start of the route, it was sixty something kilometres of wonderful dirt track next to the Canale Maestro della Chiana, Maestro being Master of course. The path was completely flat and was an examination of the drainage of the land.
The path started as a light gravel track, and as we proclaimed the blissful lack of cars, of course one came straight towards us. Not long after however, we were onto the type of grassy middled track. Clear signs forbade the passage of cars and it was rougher and deeper gravel. The lack of any elevation was actually novel for us after so many days of hills and we powered along, the wind behind us and the Sun on our faces.
The miles rolled by effortlessly. We stopped occasionally to read about the ancient infrastructure. The route had a couple of wild detours to cross bridges above the navigation channels. We watched the Sun slowly move closer towards the hills. We’d decided to camp this evening. It being an ideal opportunity when we were miles from the roads.
We started looking as it approached sunset and just when we thought we would take any piece of flatness next to the path, we saw a lovely old, but now incomplete, bridge. People actually used to live in it and it was used to manage the water flow. There were benches and even a bike rack. We lent our bikes and explored a little. As we were doing so we were startled by a bang, like a gunshot. It took a second but we realised it was bird scarer on the other side of the canal. That’s annoying, but they don’t go off too often, it’ll be okay, we reassured one another.
We got changed into warmer clothes and got some dinner out. As we began to choose a place for the tent, bang, again! That was mere minutes. We started a phone timer and considered our options. It was almost dark. But we’d never be able to sleep here. 6 minutes. That was all it was. Not a bird in sight, don’t worry.
Damn it. We packed up and set forth. There was no choice. We were just able to see without lights and carried on along the gravel. At the next road we had to put our lights on. The light behind the mountains to our west was incredible. Glancing at the map we could there was a lake ahead. This might offer a place to stop, if we were lucky. As we navigated round the lake there was nothing. There was only water on either side of the track, until, just before the path left the lakeside, there was a small opening of grass.
We stood the bikes on their click-stands, and considered the area. It seemed to be an old track that was now overgrown and was actually flat with an obviously suitable slope. It was perfect really. We immediately set up the tent, it was only half five but completely dark. We were excited to be camping again. It had been weeks. We laid the bikes on the ground behind the tent and locked them together. All the panniers were in the porch.
Dinner was the usual bread, tofu and half a red pepper. The peppers are gigantic here. We’d finished dinner and had some bread and jam, biscuits and some chocolate, all by seven thirty. The nights were long that’s for sure. We were keen to get our sleeping mats out, the cold ground seeping into us. The air was getting cold too. Stepping out it seemed bound to freeze, the clear sky leading to visible water droplets appearing on the tent and bikes. We were soon in bed, only the sound of the occasional whizzing train could be heard along with some dogs barking into the night. We hoped they were tethered.
Surly They Won't Make It 