• 1656 km cycled (longest day 119 km leaving Po Valley, shortest day 18 km on the day we left Emma’s parents)
• 10 nights in campsites, 13 nights free camping, 16 nights in real beds (thanks Bruce and Judy)
• 1 punctured rear inner tube (Emma’s bike again!)
• 1 punctured tent inner thanks to over amorous cat in Anghiari (thank god we’ve got seam sealer…)
• 1 broken front brake cable (Justin’s bike)
• 1 broken rear gear shifter (Justin’s bike again!)
• 3 meals containing truffle consumed
• 3 rainy days cycling plus a few showers when we were staying at villas but we’re not counting those
• 3 times we were chased by dogs (well Justin’s usually chased and they get tired by the time Emma passes them)
• 6 swims managed in campsite pools, ocean and thermal pools
• 7 pizza meals (best Gusto pizza in Florence, close second Kirsten’s homemade pizza)
• 156 scoops of Gelato consumed – approximated (most frequent flavours chocolate fondante, coffee, lemon and yoghurt)
• 60 million Italians wished that New Zealand weren’t holding their own in the world cup

Justin will remember: Eating wine and sugar bread after walk to Casa San Antonio with locals from Regello and cycling through the Piano Grande

Emma’s best day of cycling: Down from one pass and up another to Passo di Teglia where we made camp around an open fire and watched the sunset over the maritime alps

We’ve been avoiding coast roads thinking that campsites would be expensive and traffic would be bad and weren’t surprised to find this was true as we cycled along the coast of Le Marche. A long downhill from Montegallo took us into Ascoli Piscaro then down to the ocean via some roads that tourists usually don’t see, and for good reason – big busy industrial estates where we made a detour to Decathlon (for gas canisters that they no longer stock!). As we got closer to the coast we both had to be very cautious on the roads – cars weren’t seeing or expecting fully loaded cycle tourists around them.

We divided our riding between the coastal promenades and the busy SS16 – the main road up to Ancona. The seafront stretches were like watching the same piece of film loop over and over again, with the waters edge occupied by the bars renting deck chairs, snorkel and sunhat stalls, more bars and gelaterias and paths turning from smooth paving stones to deep gravel without explanation. We could move faster on the main road, but so could the motorised traffic. The fumes and the heat of the day made me feel lightheaded and seeing signs for the Led Zepplin campsite, a Thelma and Louise bar and an “America at the Beach” beach bar, I wondered if my brain had given up on Italian names and was just inputting pop culture references instead. The campsites we stayed at were predictably over-priced holiday resorts, with children’s entertainment laid on and not another tent in sight, but we ate on the beach and managed to go swimming, so couldn’t complain.

In three hot and muggy days we have one particularly amazing experience. I had been talking about having fish as we were on the coast, and we find ourselves at a closed fish market in Pedaso, where a few stall owners appear to be cleaning up. Justin goes off to take photos and I notice what appears to be a cafe at one end of the main building. On closer inspection, it’s clearly not a cafe, though a number of workers are all sitting around a table eating something out of take out containers. We’re about to move on when one of them calls us over and asks us if we’d like to eat with them, and we can’t believe our luck. We spend the next 90 minutes eating container loads of tiny fried fish, freshly cooked anchovies and potato fries cooked in olive oil; all in view of the ocean chatting to a group of fisheries workers. This being Italy, there is even wine and coffee with the meal. The group happily poses for photos and then starts taking out their phones to capture us with the two bicycles before we pedal on.

Our last Italian meal was in a central city park in Ancona. After a long slow afternoon wandering the city we can’t find a open supermarket and by the time we find one its poorly stocked and we are suddenly rushed for time. We cook a hurried meal of filled tortellini, with a cold sauce consisting of pureed tomatoes and fresh basil. With our ferry boarding time upon us, we rush towards the docks, pausing for a few minutes for one last gelato before jumping ship to Croatia.

To get to the point we would join the route we headed East on minor roads in as direct a route as possible with our two weeks in Italian villas fast fading from our minds. Reaching Acqualagna the route quickly took us into more mountainous territory with a climb to the Eremo di Fonte Avellana monastery where we camped in an eerily quiet forest with only distant bell chiming for company. We continued through quiet roads and tiny villages where almost every person stared open mouthed at our bikes as we smiled back. En route to Gubbio my rear gear shifter suddenly broke with the ring that holds you in a specific gear snapping in half. As we reached Gubbio we raced between bike shops before they shut for the afternoon following locals in cars, hand drawn maps and GPS routes before finding a motorcycle mechanic who had a replacement shifter. Suddenly within an hour or so of what had seemed a major mechanical problem we were back on the road again.

From Gubbio we headed towards Assisi deciding (in true hill-aholic style) to tackle a road described as “extremely steep” in the guide book. This saw both Emma and I pushing our bikes for large sections but rewarded us with an amazing descent into Assisi. After a quick visit to the St. Francis cathedral (involving more pushing bikes up hills) we headed out of town to an area described as “remote and lacking services” by the guide book. As the skies darkened I put my new weather knowledge (I got a book about weather for my birthday a month or so back) to work and predicted thunderstorms ahead. Sheltering in a motorway subway with hailstones falling and wind almost blowing trees over I concluded I was correct. Although the storm passed quickly the rest of the day continued with further heavy showers as we cycled through small towns with only a handful of buildings. The day ended with a monumental downpour that saw us sheltering under our trusty groundsheet trying to protect the tent and shouting at each other to be heard over the pounding rain.

With wet socks, shoes and cycling shorts the next day we aimed for Norcia, an ancient walled Roman town surrounded by mountains – so yep more hill climbing ensued, but again the descent was breathtaking with the valley and old town laid out like a tablecloth far below. Norcia is a popular Italian tourist town with porcini, truffle and wild boar on offer from every doorway so after a quick gelato we began the final 20km climb to the Piano Grande plateau. After climbing for around 10km we found a small rocky trail with just enough room for our tent and watched the sunset over Norcia.

Being on the road before 7am is a little unusual for us but with a further 10km of climbing we were keen to avoid the heat of the day and by 8:30am we had gasped repeatedly at the view below us, stopped for a quick espresso, marvelled at wild horses on hilltops and were eating breakfast looking out over the spectacular Piano Grande. Its difficult to describe the view but it is one of the most unusual and stunning landscapes I have ever seen. The valley is surrounded by stony majestic mountains who stand guard over the bright yellow maize fields and carpets of wild flowers across the valley floor. As the day progresses clouds slowly accumulate around the higher peaks passing their shadows across the valley as if in contrast to the vivid light that fills the air. In testament to the colours and light the valley is filled with photographers using equipment that made my compact camera green with envy. Riding into the valley and up into Castellucio we gained another perspective of the valley and had a tasty sausage roll for morning tea. We could easily have spent weeks in the valley exploring every possible viewpoint but as we cycled onwards I was happy to have visited it even if only for a brief half day.

Reaching Montegallo and an unexpected campsite we decided to make it a short day and enjoyed a welcome shower after the last few days of free camping. Staring up at the cloud covered Mt Vettore over dinner I could see why the local people refer to it as a “cloud factory” and was amazed at how the valley beyond could hold so many wonders.

Breakfast

Cereal, fruit and yoghurt, bread and jam with a side order of focaccia (there is never a bad time for focaccia we have learnt).

Lunch

Mystery canned fish, olives, cucumber, carrot and tomato salad with bread.

Afternoon Snack

Our daily gelato fix. Note we don’t usually get the cute cones on top.

Dinner

Top of a mountain, sun setting, church bells ringing in forest monastery and spaghetti bolognese on our plates. Surprisingly nice long life cappuccino cake for dessert.

Leaving Florence after two nights of disco music lulling us to sleep at our hill-top campsite Justin and I cycled a final strenuous 30k to villa number one in Tallini to await the parents who had flown over from New Zealand. With Bruce and Judy, we spent the week buying our mushrooms and melons from the local fruit vendor, picking treats from the bakery and picking cherries from the tree in our backyard but also did the sites justice. Michelangelo’s David impressed, there was a lot more to Pisa than the tower, and we saw our fill of tiny hilltop villages some crowded with tourists and others empty of all life.

On our last day in Regello, we joined a local guided walk which promised to be 2 hours long with sausages and music at lunch. In an Italian style we’ve come to expect, the walk took all day and the sausages were accompanied by bread soaked in red wine and sugar, bread with olive oil and tomatoes, copious amounts of red wine, cake and desert wine before the return walk down hill. This was also the day that we thought we lost Judy but she was just awaiting a ride down from Vallombrosa – luckily Bruce and I decided to have a gelato before alerting the authorities to her disappearance!

We locked our bikes up at Regello and lugged our panniers 3 hours south to Grosetto for the second half of our cycling break. We saw a glimpse of Rome including the Vatican and the Coliseum, bathed in hot pools at Saturnia and wandered through Etruscan tombs and walkways dug out of the hills but the biggest highlights of the week were excellent meals.

For my birthday we went for fresh fish at a port town 30 minutes down the coast with seats right on the wharf front. Locally we had an exquisite eight course meal at a restaurant called Maria’s where course after course was put in front of us as an Irish lady at the next table chatted about her New Zealand opera connections, finally inviting us and another English couple for a nightcap at her house just down the road. Another recommended eatery was Pizzeria Cinghiale  Bianco just outside the village walls. We were warned that the chef Franco, was a practical joker but we weren’t prepared for him to have the majority of the restaurant in hysterics for most of the night.

We had a great two weeks with Bruce and Judy and cycled away feeling spoilt to have been able to spend so much time with them both. In return we hope we gave them a taste of the reasons why we’ve spent so much time travelling around this part of the world, both in this trip and over the past six years we’ve lived in the UK. We cycled out of Regello with a few tears in eyes – New Zealand is suddenly feeling much much further away.

New supplies

Leaving London we also left well-stocked outdoors shops and bicycle shops behind so we needed to get things shipped to us overseas. These are the bits that we decided we needed 10 weeks on:

• New set of Orikasi fold-flat dinnerware: we had burnt the plastic in most of our last set using the plates as lids for pots
• Books: Bird identification book for Emma, weather book for Justin, Eastern Europe phrasebook and three second-hand novels
• Kool Stop brake pads: these don’t need replacing yet but we haven’t found a bike shop which stocks them yet on our travels.
• SDHC memory card so a copy of photos can be taken back to New Zealand
• Therm-a-rest Z-Lite sleeping mats: closed cell mats to replace our leak-prone self-inflating mats, delivered to a campsite in Florence.
• Silicon seam-sealer: to fix holes in tent fly
• From NZ: some kiwi stickers for our bikes, peanut slabs, emergency foil blankets, fridge magnets, electronic bug zapper and insect repellent to replace our jungle strength bottle which is almost empty.

Logistics

We were planning to meet up with my parents in Tuscany and had arranged to stay in rental accommodation with them for two weeks which made getting deliveries a little easier.

We ordered items online and sent a number of small packages to our good friend Cat in London who re-packed it into one parcel, then sent it to an address where we were staying at for the first week with my parents. Thanks Cat!

It was trickier with our new sleeping mats. After an hour of online searching we found an Italian retailer who had them in stock, then with the help of the receptionist at our campsite in Alba we called ahead to a Florence campsite to ask if they would accept the delivery, also calling the Italian stockists to check that they had them and determine shipping dates. Thankfully the mats were waiting for us when we checked in at Camping Michelangelo.

From France, Yves and Ingrid forwarded the Silicon Sealer that Hilleberg had sent them to fix our tent directly to our Reggello villa where it was waiting on arrival.

On request Bruce and Judy brought a few things from New Zealand for us and added to their luggage a few other bits and pieces that they thought might be useful.  two tubs of kiwi marmite didn’t make it through customs as apparently it’s smear-able!

Looking at our map the most direct route to Sassoleone was to travel south east from Canossa hugging the mountains and returning to our familiar routine of mountain pass climbing and river valley descents. Besides the hilly route along the way we also visited a vintage car and motorbike show with ancient Bianchi bikes in Montese, found our second ever campsite in Italy at Rioveggio, photographed vivid green countryside after thunderstorm outside Loiano and passed the 4000km mark outside Bisano.

Arriving at Sassoleone with only an address we realised the house number we had didn’t seem to exist in the tiny main street. After circling the block a few times attracting more and more curious attention from the local people we asked for help and were swiftly guided to the address outside town by following a driver in his car. We felt like we were in a parade as the driver flashed his lights and drove slowly ahead of us.

Kersten’s house was called Casa Nova and was one building in what would have historically been a shared farm property. The owner of the property Georgio still farmed the surrounding land with cherry and peach trees, bee hives, chickens, a truffle dog and enough farm equipment to keep his grandkids entertained. Within minutes of our arrival we were sitting in a sun drenched field with Kersten and her daughters Jora and Lori eating fresh delicious cherries as fast as Georgio could cut the branches from his trees.

Over the next few days we helped pick more cherries for Georgio’s daughter to make into jam, played endless games with Jora and Lori, amazed some local people with our journey to date, declined an invite for an 80km morning ride from a local cyclist (aged 60+) and talked with Kersten long into each night about her way of life at Casa Nova and past travelling adventures.

Our route to Florence from Casa Nova had been the subject of much discussion with Georgio as to the least hilly, most scenic and best roads to follow. The recommended route followed an undulating ridge to Passo della Raticosa competing only with the odd motorcycle for space. We then sailed downhill almost all the way Florence with traffic building up around us, stopping for a packed lunch Kersten had made us in some welcome shade. We finally made our way to Camping Michelangelo to collect our new sleeping mats and have a quick dinner before taking in the sunset from Piazza Michelangelo and heading into central Florence to enjoy a late evening gelato while taking in the Saturday night atmosphere.

Averaging above 100 kilometres a day, we sped through farmlands where labourers worked late into the evening picking courgettes and crossed the Po river several times still finding enough hours in each day to visit a number of towns.

Conversation followed us: one day we had four in-depth chats about our trip and every day our recognition of Italian phrases for ‘where are you from?’ and ‘where are you going?’ improved. Markets were everywhere, with fresh cherries and binoculars finding their way into our panniers after one particularly successful shop in Cortemaggiore. We ducked into Piacenza on a Sunday afternoon and it seemed like the whole town was bicycle propelled, including a family of four  out riding in their Sunday best: the man with a finely cut suit, talking on his cell phone and smoking a cigarette with one child in a child seat behind him, his wife with a skimpy dress and high heels with the other child on her bike. Our bikes turned heads in the local park as we ate our lunch.

We tried to follow a route suggested in a 2003 Lonely Planet Cycling Italy guide, but found some suggested tracks were badly maintained gravel, a bridge was out which would have meant a large detour and the roads didn’t really follow the river. We ended up making our own way, with equal amounts of time on the quiet raised banks of the argines and the busy industrial roads around them.

The biggest challenges came in the evenings. Even tiny white roads on our maps were heaving with traffic, the landscape offered little relief in the way of secluded spots for free-camping and there were of course no official campsites.

On our first night heading towards the Po river itself, we cycled late into the evening before we found a windbreak of trees with a path coming off the road. We had set up on a patch of dirt next to a vegetable crop, cooked dinner and boiled water for cups of tea when a farm truck pulled into the field. We greeted the surprised farmer with Buena Sera and luckily for us he kindly wished us a tranquil nights rest before he went to inspect his tomato plants. We were left to watch the sun set accompanied by the roar of trains on nearby railway tracks.

We looked for a place to camp on the river banks one afternoon and were attacked by ferocious tiger mosquitoes. They bit through my cycling shirt, gloves and swarmed around my legs as we rapidly retreated. Another not so secluded free camp spot saw them attacking us just on dusk as a family had driven out to look at the river in the sunset. We danced around like idiots wondering if we should go over and say hello but instead diving into our tent and watching them trying to attack us through it.

After the third night, we were tired of the flatness around us and the battles with bugs and sorting out a place to sleep and made a bee-line back to the hills. Passing Parma the roads became a little quieter but each village seemed to merge into the next leaving no quiet spaces for us to camp. We ended up cycling for 120 kilometres, our biggest day yet, before asking a bed and breakfast on top of a hill if we could camp on their lawn. We cooked dinner with a few less bugs, a view down the valley and across to a castle, and a donkey, dog and goose trying to sneak up on us, glad to be back in the hills.

Our passage into Italy although hilly was on very quiet roads and as with most border crossings so far the only thing we noticed were changes in road signs, until we turned onto our first main road. Traffic was flying along and bumper to bumper, with motorcycles, cars and caravans returning to the coast at the end of the weekend. We flew through a series of 2km long tunnels with our ears ringing before deciding to turn onto a minor road marked as “difficult/dangerous” on our map. Within minutes of our turn off we were both pushing our bikes up some of the steepest roads we have encountered so far. Passing drivers smiled at us and stopped to advise us to turn back. After two hours we finally made it to the summit and a free camp spot with an amazing view but very close to a walking track with a few people still around. As we eased our tired legs into our sleeping bags we thought of Patricks offer to stay and have lunch with him instead of cycling to Italy and wished we had accepted.

Monday morning we descended into our first Italian town and quickly located some delicious focaccia bread to snack on while absorbing the early morning awakenings around us. Travelling on to Pigna we ordered espresso marvelling over how cheap it was and declaring it the best espresso so far. After a brief chat to some French mountain bikers who had descended from 1800m we headed towards lunch in Triora via more hill climbing. Our afternoon climb was to 1387m and we weren’t sure what to expect as the 10 year old route guide we were using said the road was only partially paved. The climb turned out to be rich in local wildlife with sightings as follows:

• A snake sunbathing quietly at the roadside before literally flying through the air in surprise at a passing cars tyres.
• A toad the size of a small cat jumping away as we rushed towards a roadside waterfall to cool off
• The usual array of birds both big and small.

Reaching the summit we found a series of fire pits in a sheltered flat piece of ground and decided to stop for the night. Watching the sun set over the Maritime Alps we felt like we were on the highest peak for miles around with steep valleys dropping beneath us.

Awaking to a cloud filled valley below us on Tuesday we descended from clear blue skies into the wet forest below watching the clouds boil and billow like ocean waves around the alps. We followed a predictable pattern stopping for espresso and focaccia at the first opportunities we found. The afternoon saw us heading towards Garessio after passing up campsites filled with gravel and static caravans. As evening approached and with little sign of any likely free camps we stopped to ask a local farmer if we could camp nearby. He directed us to a flat piece of ground near a river and next to his house providing us a welcome secure camp for the night.

Our first few days in Italy has already given us an appreciation for Italian hills, snakes, espresso and a renewed love of foccacia!