Advertisement
Published: November 12th 2010
Edit Blog Post
Stepped off the ferry at Ancona port under grey heavy skies and into a light rain that became stronger as the morning went on.Hoping that the clouds would pass we used our time to search the net for year round campsites and a book shop for a map of southern Europe.
The rain was still coming down as we left town along a busy waterlogged road, heading north in our crap rain gear which consisted of a wind proof jacket a chinese cape and plastic bags over our shoes.Luckily for us Italy has plenty of LIDL supermarkerts. In here we loaded up on useful clothes like rain trousers and Tati got herself a fetching pair of green rubber shoes.Thats handy,if the nursing doesn't work out back home she can get a job as a garden gnome at B and Q.
Could'nt find any open campsites anywhere near Ancona,most places are shut now for the winter.Plenty cyclists about though,all dressed like liquorice allsorts, going past us like bullets and making us feel like retired pack horses.Really wierd seeing so many bikes on the road,I was cioaing my head off til I realised that I
Here we go again
cracked rims of Rimmini was the only one finding it all a bit unique.The rain eased off and we decided on an early camp in the form of an old abandoned house at the side of the SS16 highway, tucking in behind it out of the wind we crossed our fingers for what turned out to be a dry night.
Woke to the sounds of gun shot close by, fearing a Vietnam flashback I quickly unzipped the tent to find a hunter blowing kingdom come out of anything that moved in the field opposite.This would become a regular ocurance and we vowed not to camp too well hidden and immediately threw our bird costumes in the nearest bin.
We were heading for a campsite located online when Tati began to complain about her back wheel.Didn't think much of it at the time ,but at a lunch break we took a closer look and had a shocker of a deja vu.After 31 300km Tati's die hard back wheel has gone the same way as my first and second wheels and split at the rim,smiling an all to familiar twisted grin back at us.Threw the campsite idea
Martino and Tati
Mr Knowlege about bikes out of the window and headed for Riccione to get things sorted.At least now we are in a country that can deal with this quickly and easily, trouble is where I had problems finding a wheel good enough to use in Laos ,over here its the complete opposite.They're too bloody good! 170 euro,only in pairs,or only race bike dealerships.It took us six attempts to find a reasonably priced wheel and at 43 euro it will have to do.The blokes in the shops were all super friendly and helpful.The old fellow at our wheel shop was classic.Martino runs a family business and after we told him what weve done he was falling over himself doing this and that to Tati's bike,all for free and then he got out his scrap book of black and white pictures showing us his racing days and pictures of visiting cycling superstars like Pantiani.He told us off a few times for letting the bikes go unkept,but who's to argue with 50 years experience.
Back on four wheels in the rain at Riminni where African men waited at traffic lights to scrape a meagre living from washing windscreens ,we took a turn and headed into the
mountains towards San Marino,this is a place I tried to visit some years ago but failed to find time,it was time to put the record straight.Ended up camping in a park about two km from the campsite we'd located, figuring on saving a whopping 20 euro for the first night by staying here.Gave us a reason to try out our new 2 X 3 metre tarp I'd found in a supermarket back in Riminni, yet another notch in the axe against the elements.
For 20 euro a night you'd think at least the bloody pegs would go into the ground.In fact for that price I'd expected a free t shirt and a welcome drink.Its the going rate in Italy and would prove to be the best value with its tv room and free internet.It rained for the rest of the day and all day Sunday ,so we pretty much moved into the place as it had heaters , in no time we had the place looking like a refugee camp with all of our wet clothes hanging from every conceivable place.
Quite like San Marino though.It was very autumnal up on the mountain with low
cloud casting a silence over the castles and the falling leaves added an ambience to the place that even the endles rows of souvenir shops could'nt take away.Youre not allowed to use the resturant toilets though.Oh no!Paying customers only.This is classy Europe,there are rules!These bogs are owned by important people.I wonder what those African blokes think of this kind of thing.I do miss those parts of the world where people are a little less up their own arses about the importance of a fucking toilet.I once pissed on the window of a resturant in Cadiz when the owner accused me of wanting to inject heroin in his WC.Ah the good old days.None of that here though , we're all grown up now.
Heading back to the coast we pushed into a cold, cold headwind and a light drizzle passing lots of closed resorts and hundreds of shut hotels.Today places like Cesenatico are like ghost towns which makes for pretty easy riding along quiet coastal bike lanes, a far cry from a hectic summer one imagines.Sometimes campspots can be a nightmare to find, but every now and then you get lucky and at Cervia,which is a cracking town full of
pines we got just that.Right behind the town is a woodland park full of cut trails and walkways, brilliant for two cold, tired cyclists to pitch up out of the wind.Listened to an owl hooting as I pondered our drinking wagon and fell asleep plotting ways to fall off it as soon as possible.
Todat is a pilgrimage for us and especially Tati to the city of Ravenna.The town is known for its mosaic's and its here that Tati's late Grandmother learn't her art that she became famous for in Denmark.After a battle with a headwind from hell we headed into town as the sun broke for the first time since stepping off the boat five days ago.Ravenna has some amazing mosaic's in various churches and chapels.Gobsmacked at the amount of time,detail and devotion to some of these works ,which, in many cases fill whole ceilings.It was pretty cool to see the ones Beth had copied and put around her house in Denmark.
With our detours now over we headed inland towards Bologna to visit Francesca, a family friend who was actually in Ravenna that day waiting for us at her mums house with food on the table and a bed for the night.Damn!Somewhere we have crossed wires in cyber space and instead had to make do with 16 hours in a peach field.The glamor is never ending! Yes 16 hours is pretty much normal for us these days as its dark at 18 30 and we dont get going til about 1030.Thought about an alarm clock but we figured on leaving our ears til we get home ,where there will be plenty of joyous mornings listening to the bastard thing ringing.This amount of time makes us choose carefully our campspots , especially when we're in someone's field.
There are some beautiful towns along the way through rural Romagna province. Bagnacavallo and Medicina had lovely old centres which reminded us of Europe's second to none history compared to the rest of the world.And Bologna itself was a hidden history book begging to be explored.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.571s; Tpl: 0.011s; cc: 14; qc: 50; dbt: 0.0482s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.2mb