Today we were joined by Ivan and Giovanna.

For those of you who have read my book, The Way, My Way, you might remember Ivan the Terrible and his Beautiful Wife Giovanna. They helped me find the scenic route into Burgos on the Camino Frances, and we soon became good friends, and walked together many times thereafter to Santiago.

Since then – two years ago now – we have continued to keep in touch, and when Jennifer and I were in Italy last year, they hosted us at their house near Bergamo, in Northern Italy, and we spent a glorious weekend with them as their guests.

When they heard we were doing the Assisi walk, Ivan contacted me to say that he could only get a few days off work, but he would like to join us and walk a few stages.

He finished work late yesterday, and he and Giovanna drove 400kms in horrible holiday traffic (today is May Day, a big holiday in Europe), and this morning they arrived in Sansepulcro to join our group.

Ivan and Giovanna are the most delightful people, and immediately they slotted into our group – although many felt they knew them already from my book.

They are also very strong walkers, and as we set off I admired the easy relaxed way Ivan walks. And it occurred to me that he relaxes his whole upper body – there’s no tension or effort at all – which gives him an ease of gait which is very difficult to achieve.

Also overnight I received on this blog a message from a very wonderful lady whom I’d met on the Camino Frances. Her name is Sigrid, and she and her husband Roland live in a small town in Austria. Sigrid and I have remained in loose contact since the Camino – but as it turned out she and Roland were in this part of Italy, and so we made an arrangement to meet for lunch at our end stop today – Citerna.

Sigrid and Roland were there to meet us – and Sigrid rushed up to greet me.

Just with meeting up with Ivan and Giovanna this morning, these are friendships forged by the intensity of the Camino, and the commonality of beliefs, which transcend boundaries of nationality, gender, and indeed time.

I spent quite a bit of time on the Camino Frances with Ivan and Giovanna, but only a few days with Sigrid. And yet the strength of the bonds are the same. And they will last.

Ivan and Giovanna peeled off to rest up while we all had a glorious lunch in a beautiful restaurant with a view out over the surrounding plains and hills. Sigrid and Roland finally had to leave – but I know I will see them again, and perhaps Sigrid on the Camino again – one day very soon.

There are no hotels in Citerna – it’s a small picture postcard historic hilltop town – but about 1km down the road is a beautiful Umbrian villa, that is a hotel and restaurant.

In fact, the man that runs the place, Mauro, is a highly accomplished chef, and the meal we had tonight was perhaps the best we’ve had to far –

– handmade tagliatelle pasta with leeks and hazelnuts (beautiful!), then rolled and grilled pork wrapped in prosciutto, then chocolate mousse with a wild berry sauce – the mousse unlike anything I’ve ever tasted before.

It was Ivan and Giovanna’s 40th anniversary when they first met, so we toasted them. They are dear friends and wonderful people. And I will always remember Sigrid’s greeting when we met again today. I’m very fortunate to have such solid friends.

Tomorrow begins three days of hard walking. Long distances, and big hills and valleys. I have started to develop a blister on my right heel. It won’t stop me.

The spirit of St. Francis is all around us. We can feel it in the churches we visit, in the trails we walk. Jennifer took Marie, Patty and Angela to a very sacred Franciscan monastery at a hilltop town called Montecasale. They didn’t walk the fist leg of the stage today, because of their visit to this monastery.

But that’s all part of this pilgrimage. It’s not about walking every kilometre with your backpack – it’s about taking in the spirit of St. Francis. Which is what the ladies did this morning, instead of walking.

Here are some shots of our walk later in the day…

I won’t drag this out.

Let me tell you what happened.

I kept climbing up – but slowly because it was so steep. I managed to get past one wall of fallen timber and brush, and traversed the side of the mountain about 20m before coming to another wall, which I couldn’t get over.

So I climbed up the hill further.

I kept on looking for a track, and each time I thought I’d found one, I climbed up to find that it was nothing more than a ridge.

But then I noticed on my GPS app a series of tiny crosses, nearly at the top of the mountain. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I hoped it was markings of a track. I noticed that it looped round, and eventually met up with the pilgrim track – the GPX files of which I’d loaded previously.

I worried though that it might be out of date, or that the track had been blocked or washed away like the one further down.

But I had no choice so I kept climbing, kept climbing, and then up ahead I saw a wooden cross – like a signpost.

You have no idea how happy I was. I scrabbled up, and sure enough, it was a track, no wider than a goat path.

But finally I had a way of getting back to the pilgrim track.

I followed this path around the top of the mountain, and then down a sheer descent. All that distance I’d climbed up, I now had to climb down.

The track eventually took me back down to stream-level, and there was Peter Landers waiting for me standing by an old quarry .

I yelled out to him: Maaaaaate.
He yelled back: Maaaaaaate.

The others were waiting further along, and we continued out walk. That whole ordeal had taken nearly two hours.

I walked with Patty for some distance, through some beautiful countryside –

We had a good leisurely chat as the others steamed ahead to meet up with Elena and the van. The plan had been for Elena to meet us at the half-way point with some lunch.

By the time we arrived, Elena had parked by the river and had laid out a beautiful picnic lunch of local cheeses, hams, fresh salads and bread.

It wasn’t a particularly scenic spot to park, but it was practical – being the earliest place on our track where she could drive up to us in the vehicle. And after what we’d been through, we needed food and water, and we weren’t interested in a view.

After a quick lunch we headed off again – across the bridge, then through flatter easier country, but no less beautiful.

We arrived late into Sansepulcoro, and had a dinner in a small Osteria – handmade pastas with wild boar sauce, grilled lamb Tuscan style, and gorgeous wines. Oh and we finished the night with a bottle of Vin Santo dessert wine, and a basket of biscuits to go with it.

During the course of the dinner we recounted our own versions of the eventful morning – and we laughed and we ate and we laughed and we drank and the stories became broader and funnier in the telling.

What a wonderful way to finish off an incredible day…

Okay, to continue –

I had climbed up a near vertical section of hillside, using tree roots as handholds to pull myself up onto a narrow ledge where I hoped there would be a track which we all could follow around the barrier that had blocked our way.

But when I got up there, there was no track.

Meanwhile the others had tried to follow me – Peter with his 12kg backpack on! – but I shouted down to them not to bother. There wasn’t a track to be seen.

My dilemma now was – what should I do?

I couldn’t get down – it was about a 15m drop to where the others were, maybe more, and it simply wasn’t possible to climb down. I would have to free fall, and there were rocks everywhere. I’d injure myself seriously.

All I could do was keep climbing up, hoping that there would be a track somewhere further up the mountain side.

The others meanwhile down below were trying to find a way around the timber blockade, but realising it was futile, they headed back down the track, from where we’d come.

They were abandoning me!

Now for some geography –

The pilgrimage track followed a stream. On the other side of the stream was a motorway. Beyond the motorway was a small road, which ran parallel to the motorway, the stream, and the pilgrimage track.

So for the others, the plan was to try and get onto that smaller road, which ran parallel to the track, and which would meet up with it several kilometres further on.

The only problem for them was – how to get to that small road?

As they told me later, they didn’t want to walk the full 3kms back to where we’d started, cross the motorway back there at the town, and then connect to the small road. It was possible to cross the stream only a short way back, but then they had to cross the motorway.

This is a four lane highway, with barricades and a speed limit of 130kms an hour. And even though by that stage it was only about 10am, there was still a lot of traffic whizzing by.

I didn’t know anything about this – I only found out about it later – but they decided collectively that they would try to cross the motorway.

Jennifer was not with them, I should add – she had stayed back with Marie, who had not been feeling well, and needed a late start. Their plan was to meet up with us at a half-way point, where we were to have a picnic lunch.

So the group – Peter, Ken, Angie and Patti – decided to climb up the steep slope of the motorway, heft themselves over the barricades, wait for a break in traffic and then make a dash across.

Madness.

Equally mad was the situation that I found myself in.

I knew that I had to head east – follow the track and the stream, and according to the GPS map on my mobile, in about 250m I would connect back up with the track. But the hillside was steep, slippery, and at times I had to climb literally like a mountaineer – finding footholds, handholds, and hauling myself up, inch by inch.

I soon discovered that it was not possible for me to traverse the hillside – to go along the side of it in order to follow the stream.Timber cutters had cleared some of he hillside, and they had placed all the timber in huge stacks that ran from the top of the hill right down to the stream.

They were like walls of timber, running from the top of the hill right down to the water, and there was line after line of them. It was not possible to climb over them.

The only thing I could do was to keep climbing up – and hope that these walls of timber petered out as I got higher.

I checked my elevation at one stage – I was 680m up. I don’t know what the elevation was when I started, at creek level, but I was climbing high. I looked down to see if I could find the others. Way way down below, I saw some ants on the other side of the motorway, waving frantically to me. Those ants were the group.

What they hell are they doing on the other side of the motorway, I thought. And how did they do that? How did they get there?

At least I knew that they were now able to walk along that smaller road, and continue on. I though was stuck. I couldn’t cross these stacked of timber. All I could do was keep climbing up, like I was in one of those indoor mountain climbing gyms. Literally.

I figured there had to be a track up that mountain somewhere. How else could the timber cutters have got in there? But there had been very heavy rains, and a lot of washaways, and each time I though I found a track, it petered out and just disappeared.

I kept climbing.
That’s all I could do.
I had no idea how I was going to get out of this.

These hills, even a short distance out of the small town of Pieve Santo Stefano, were remote, and heavily wooded. At least though I had cell coverage and my GPS app.

Peter Landers also had the same app (MotionX GPS) and we’d set up our phones so that we had live updates, so that each of us could see where the other was. So he knew where I was, and I knew where he was.

Not that was not much help – I could see him in the way way distance, and he could see me, because of my red Swannies cap!

I had to stop. I was exhausted. I was also dehydrated. I hadn’t had any water that morning. Stupid, yes, I know. When I thought back, the only fluids I’d had were three espressos for breakfast. I hadn’t even had orange juice.

But whilst I was carrying water, it simply wasn’t possible for me to take my backpack off and get to it. The hillside was too steep. And if I lost my pack I’d never see it again. And it had my wallet and passport. It wasn’t worth the risk of taking it off.

I looked up the hillside. Hillside? Mountainside? I don’t know… it was high. And I was high. Not high, but high… maybe I was high from dehydration…

The timber wall-stacks were starting to thin out as I got higher, but they were still impassable. All I could do was keep climbing –

To be continued… (I have to get ready now for today’s walk… )

(oh, and thank you for all the comments. I will reply, but right now my time is very short. Only five hours sleep last night… )

Today was a tough day’s walking. Probably the toughest I’ve ever walked.

It was always going to be a hard walk today – 26km over a couple of very high hills, or mountains, whichever way you wish to describe them – and down some very rocky precipitous descents.

Tricky.

But what made it tough had nothing to do with any of that. That was all completely manageable.

No, what made it tough was that the track was blocked by a washout about 3kms into the day’s walk. There was no way we could get through.

There was fallen timber blocking our way – a barrier that was not possible to get past.

We thought that perhaps there was a track higher up the mountain, which would allow us to get past the blockage – so I set off up an almost vertical hillside to see if there was indeed a track up the top.

I went by myself because if there was no track, then we would all have to come back down again, and it would be extremely difficult.

It was a very hard climb up. And when I got to a ledge where I could safely stand, I looked around and could see no track.

I could also see that it was impossible to get back down. The wall that I’d climbed up was almost concave. It wasn’t possible for me to safely get down.

The only way was up.

And so I climbed, hoping to find a track further up the mountainside – a track that would allow us to get past the blocked track below.

I’ sorry – I  can’t finish this story now. It’s too late – we got in at about 6pm after leaving at 9:30am this morning – and now I have to hit the sack.

Tomorrow is an easier day – plus we’re being joined tomorrow by Ivan the Terrible and his Beautiful Wife Giovanna. They will be walking with us for three or four days.

I’m so looking forward to that. They are wonderful people.

Right now though, after today, I’m totally knackered, and need to sleep. So I will continue this saga tomorrow.

Just to add though that today all of us collected extraordinary memories which we’ll never forget. Yes it was a tough day, but it was glorious, so much fun, we laughed and laughed, and dare I say it, the day turned out triumphant.

More tomorrow…

Today has to go down as perhaps the most beautiful day of walking I’ve ever done.

This Via di Francesco is stunning.

For those of you who might be reading this and are tired of, or intimidated by, the crowds on the Camino, then you really should consider this walk. Because not only is the countryside exquisitely beautiful, there’s no-one here!

We were the only people on the track today.

Let me start at the beginning of the day – we woke to sunny skies! It had been raining quite heavily these last several days, but this morning – the first morning of our walk – it was bright sunshine and blue skies.

 I sent an email to Steve to let him know – with an attached photo of blue skies and sun.

We had breakfast at the monastery at La Verna. The staff at the monastery are very strict – we had to start breakfast at 8am on the dot, and be out by 9am. Not a minute later.

The coffee was monk’s coffee.
Or nun’s coffee.
Undrinkable to us mere mortals.

We then loaded the van with those things we wouldn’t be carrying – Peter Landers being the only one who’s decided to do the walk with the full backpack.

The legend of the Landers Express lives on.

We then took a group photo of the start of our walk –

– then headed off, walking out of the monastery –

– only to find a coffee stand about 50 meters outside the gates. Of course we had to stop and have proper coffee!

For the next 5-6 kms we climbed up steep rocky tracks and walked along the side of ridges that had unbelievable views of the surrounding countryside.

Marie celebrated when she got to the top of a steep climb…

Jennifer and Patti hung back, picking flowers. We waited back for them and gave them a guard of honour when they finally caught up with us.

We discovered that we were averaging the scintillating pace of 2.75kms per hour. So slow! But today’s stage was only 15kms, and we were in no rush. But also, it was a gnarly track. Some stiff climbs, and some steep descents down paths that were very slippery.

But throughout, the countryside and the views were just breathtaking.

We stopped at the highest point and took photos –

And kept walking in The Sound of Music type country.

And then came a slow descent – stretching several kms – until we caught sight of Pieve Santo Stefano, our end stage town.

The walk took us about 6hrs – and for many of us our knees are sore from a total descent of nearly 1km (983m).

But we were all uplifted by the sheer beauty of today.

Tonight we are eating in the hotel restaurant – Jennifer and I have eaten there before, and it’s gorgeous home made pastas and local produce beautifully cooked.

There is something to be said about walking in Tuscany!

This morning we packed up early, hopped in a mini-van, and left Florence –

Our driver took us out past the famous Ponte Vecchio,

and up into the hills. It was overcast and drizzling – and there was a thin mist hanging.

We stopped for lunch at a small restaurant at the base of the La Verna hill – on the top of which sits the Santuario della Verna – the Franciscan monastery of La Verna.

After lunch we decided to walk up the hill to the monastery –

Angie and Ken had a little kissy kissy moment, which given the proximity to a monastery was probably inappropriate.

(note the phallic symbol coming into the left of frame… )

The walk up was steep at times, but beautiful – in the mist, and along the ancient path, walked by monks for centuries.

We arrived at the monastery with the mist still swirling –

– and in time for the 3pm hymns in the Basilica, which is the prelude to the procession of monks to the St. Francis chapel – a ceremony which has occurred daily for centuries.

After the ceremony we went back to the Basilica, where St. Francis’ relics were on show, including the robe that he wore when he experienced his stigmata.

The monastery is virtually empty, and in the mist it has a very special energy.

Tomorrow we begin our walk – a fairly short day of about 16kms, but up and down some big hills evidently.

It might rain, it might not – I don’t worry about the weather. It will be what it will be. Irrespective, it will be great to start walking. And the countryside here is beautiful.

Right now we’re about to go to dinner in the monastery.

I don’t do gruel….

In Florence, it’s raining, and I feel pressure

I’ve always had sun.

But I say to myself, there are still two days before we start walking. Today is officially the first day, yes, but it’s the day that we all meet up at the Hotel Roma, in the Piazza Santa Marie Novella. It’s not a walking day.

And tomorrow, we drive to the monastery at della Verna – the place where St. Francis experienced his stigmata – and that isn’t a walking day either.

It’s only on Wednesday we start our walk proper. So I have two day for the rain to clear.

Whew.

You have to understand, I have an obligation to the farmers.

They need rain.

And also to the municipal councils, for their reservoirs.

They need rain too.

But on Wednesday, enough is enough.

You guys will have had your fill.

Now it’s time to walk, so… sunshine please.

Today we all met up at the luxurious Hotel Roma, in the heart of the historic area of Florence. We met Patricia Talbot for the first time – Patti. And the group met Elena. 

Patti, a professional pastry and cake maker, presented Jennifer and myself with a tin of ANZAC bikkies that she’s baked for us, and had brought all the way from the UK, which is where she and her husband live.

What a wonderfully thoughtful gift!
And what a beautiful lady!

It was raining and we walked to our restaurant for dinner.

Elena led the way –

Marie enjoyed her walk under her umbrella.

We had the best time at dinner. A tiny hole-in-the-wall local place with beautiful food – a place that Elena’s father, who knows Florence well, had recommended. Trip Advisor has recently discovered it, and we were lucky we booked, because the staff were turning people away constantly.

I introduced Peter Landers (the sole surviving half of the Landers Express, the other half, his wife Julie, holding the Fort in Melbourne) and Ken Mitchell, who pretends to be a man of moral propriety, but in fact in the corruptible presence of my humble self quickly reverts to his true nature – where was I  – oh yes, I introduced these two “so called” pilgrims to the joyous fires of Vin Santo, which in easy parlance is the Italian equivalent of White Port.

Say no more…

It was a fun evening, and a wonderful start to what promises to be an extraordinary two weeks – a time for a lot of laughter and ribbing, but also a time of talk and discussions about all things spiritual and esoteric and religious,  and a pilgrimage walk that will have, in all seriousness, profound resonances.

Ken Mitchell and I started one of these deepish chats while walking back to the hotel. We talked about Uluru, and the magic presence there.

Ken pretends to be a bit of yobbo but truth be known, he runs deep.

Kind of like a stormwater drainage pipe…

Tomorrow we head off into St. Francis territory, and into the heart of an energetic vortex that I believe will affect us all most deeply.

One of the joys of doing this blog is the people –

The wonderful people I’ve met through these scatty ramblings of mine.

I’ve become friends with some truly extraordinary people here – and in our travels Jennifer and I have had the chance to meet some of them too.

Some I have yet to meet, but hopefully that will happen in due course.

(Yes Ingrid, thinking of you!!)

Last year Jennifer and I did a trip to the US, and in the course of our travels we went up into the Seattle district where we met Lynda and Dale Lozner.

Lynda in particular had been active on the blog for some time.

We met them at the Twin Peaks Cafe – the place where those famous “That’s a damn fine cup of coffee” scenes were shot.

Lynda and Dale lived nearby, and were there to meet us with two hampers of incredible presents – which was so generous of them.

And when we announced that we’d be doing the Assisi tour, they were amongst the first to sign on.

But then tragedy struck. Their daughter Stacey was diagnosed with cancer.

Lynda contacted me to tell me that they would have to throw all their energy and resources into looking after her – which they did with love, devotion, and an unremitting conviction that everything would turn out ok.

It didn’t look good, initially.

And I would call them regularly to check in, and I could feel the strain and the fear in their voices. But they never gave up hope.

They put into effect some spiritual practices that gave them hope, and belief.

And things turned around.

A few days ago Stacey went for a medical check up and was told the cancer was gone. Completely.

Lynda and Dale had very much wanted to come on this current pilgrimage, and so Lynda prepared a little gift for those who are coming.

She remembered a post I’d written some time ago, about barnacles. Here is the post…

Barnacles

In it, I write:

We’re like a ship, steaming through life’s waters. And as the years go by, barnacles begin to form on our hull, under the waterline.

Out of sight.

Barnacles and seaweed, which capture the flotsam and jetsam of our worldly experiences.

This debris of life clings to us.

It slows us down, makes us less manoeuvrable.

Less nimble.

It makes us cautious, hesitant, scared.

It tries to stop us going places we once went without a moment’s thought.

The barnacles finally get so thick we can’t move forward.

They burden us with their heaviness. We carry that heaviness with us as we struggle through our later years.

Finally, we give up.

But we can scrape those barnacles off.

We have to scrape them off, if we want to become nimble again.

If we want to be unafraid again.

We can do this, by walking the Camino.

And so what Lynda has done is she has collected some barnacles, and put them in a small and very beautiful bottle – she has included in the bottle the words of my post, reduced down into a miniature manuscript, and she’s attached a cord so that those walking on this tour can attach it to their packs.

She said she wants them to be reminded that the walk is helping to scrape off the barnacles. It’s obviously taken her a huge amount of time and effort to do this –

She packed it all beautifully in a box and posted it to Elena in Tuscany, to give to me – which she’s now done.

Lynda did all this while dealing with the daily traumas of her daughter’s illness.

Dale, her husband, is like the rock that those barnacles were attached to. I don’t know Dale well – but I know that he’s a sold guy, Very solid.

Dale and Lynda will be coming with us on the Indian tour, in September, and they’re very excited. They will head off with the huge relief that their daughter is okay.

So, tomorrow when the group meets up, Jennifer and I will give each of them their bottle containing the barnacles, and the tiny reproduction of my original post.

Created with love by Lynda Lozner – a very special lady.
Jennifer and I feel very privileged to know you and Dale.
Thank you…

Gubbio is a beautiful historic town about two thirds of the way along our route.

I’ve programmed a rest day here, because it’s such a magical place, and it has a strong connection to St. Francis.

Gubbio is famous for its wolf. The story goes that a wolf began to terrorise the town, attacking the townsfolk and killing many. The wolf had gone crazy, and was hungry for human flesh.

It got so that everyone was scared to venture out doors – until Francis of Assisi arrived. He tracked down the wolf, and in front of an assembled crowed began to talk to the beast.

Everyone was terrified for Francis, believing that the wolf would suddenly attack him. But it didn’t. It listened to what Francis had to say, and then as if in a gesture of making a pact, the wolf offered a paw, and they shook “hands.”

What Francis told the wolf evidently was that if it agreed to stop killing the townsfolk, then Gubbio would provide it with whatever food it required.

And that’s what happened. This killer wolf became the town pet – going from household to household, getting fed. meek as a kitten.

The incident with the wolf was regarded as a miracle by many – and Francis was revered even more for the way he had so bravely confronted the animal, and tamed it.

The wolf is now featured in the town’s iconography, and the bones of the wolf are buried in a church high on a hill. Jennifer climbed up there and we went into the chamber where the wolf is said to be buried, and meditated there.

Later we found our way to the Cathedral, where I saw a very strange featureless angel on the floor. It looked like an eyeless mouthless moth. Kind of creepy. But how can angels be creepy? This one though looked like something out of a Guillermo del Toro film.

Today we began to make our way back towards Florence, to meet up with the first of our group tomorrow. We stopped in a village just in time to see a small military band heralding the laying of a wreath on a military memorial.

Back in Australia of course, it’s ANZAC Day, our Memorial Day. Strange to see this ceremony, so much like our ANZAC Day ceremonies, in a small Tuscan hill town.

We stopped at a small restaurant about 45kms south of Florence for lunch.

On the menu was my favourite pasta dish – Pici with garlic and pepper – a very simple dish, but delicious. Jennifer had a robust fish stew.

Will need to walk two weeks to work it all off!

Woke up to this view out of the hotel window in Gubbio –

After breakfast, (man do they know how to make coffee here!), drove to Pietralunga, and arrived during a morning market in the square in front of an old church…

We parked the car then walked off along the route to Gubbio.

This stage, from Pietrulunga to Gubbio, will be a long hard walk – about 27kms and 8hrs walking, Sandy Brown says in his guide book. Do the maths on that, and it’s only about 3.4kms per hour. Not very fast at all, which means there are lots of hills. And no towns, villages, cafes, or any place to get a feed or a drink.

We’ll have to either take all our food for the day, or have Elena meet us part way with the van, and some lunch.

This morning we hit the first hill about 3kms out of town – a long steepish ascent of about 200m, which certainly got the heart pumping.

But the scenery was stunning. The photos don’t do it justice.

What we learned from today is that Sandy’s directions in his book are very accurate. Also, it seems that the route in parts is well marked.

And the GPX tracks on the iPhone work a treat. But having the phone’s GPS function drains the battery very quickly.

Also I’ve done two walks now without my knee brace – the other day’s long walk, and today, which was only about 8kms, but up and down that steep hill. My knee has been twingeing, but is holding up.

There’s no doubt it’s going to be a gnarly little walk, this Via di Francesco – but through some breathtakingly beautiful countryside, and in the footsteps of St. Francis, which is a potent energy imprint.

Tomorrow we head towards Florence, and on Sunday we meet up with the first of our group. Very excited to soon be starting…