Tag Archives: Landscape

Day 4 – San Gimignano to Colle di Val d’Elsa – a fording delight

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 Thursday 15 May 2025 – The breakfast restaurant in the hotel, on its first floor, offers a view to jump start anyone’s day

and the breakfast buffet was a good and varied one – and sophisticated, offering, as it did, Twining’s finest Earl Grey tea! (Every hotel we’ve stayed in has had a varied selection of Twining’s tea, but this is the first one which had Earl Grey, which, clearly, makes the hotel a class act.)

Breakfast over, we started out on our walk, which was going to be about the same distance as yesterday’s but not as arduous; it was also described as “one of the most delightful routes” in the S-cape app. The destination was a place whose name was quite a mouthful – Colle di Val d’Elsa, but about which we knew nothing except that our accommodation, a B&B, was in a non-rural area somewhat short of what looked like the town centre on Google Maps. This just goes to show how wrong can be the impression you gain of a place through consulting Google Maps.

Immediately outside our hotel, the Cisterna Square (which is actually triangular) was taken over by an incipient market.

We thought the weather was nice – pleasantly cool – but the lady here was clearly freezing to death and was swaddled in fleece and jeans.

San Gimignano continued to be picturesque as we made our way out

but we passed some curiosities. There was a shop selling guns and knives, obviously for hunters, and this market extended to the tobacconist as well.

We had found it odd enough that Pisa featured a Torture Museum. Here, there were two, within a few yards of each other. It’s obviously A Thing.

We bade goodbye to San Gimignano old town

and started off through the outskirts, overlooking a view of a somewhat foggy valley.

A roundabout was the scene of a very Italian piece of parking.

Other views were more of the attractive churches and buildings on the outskirts,

with a great view back towards San Gimignano.

Yes, there were cranes in the skyline and cables in the foreground, but the astonishingly capable editor on my Samsung phone soon dealt with those little problems.

We soon exchanged the road for a track leading upwards

past, as ever, some lovely views.

I was particularly taken with the tufty nature of this olive plantation.

The track changed from dirt road to woodland track

and led down to a ford

which we navigated satisfactorily, if a little unsteadily.

After the ford, the track went up (of course!)

and I began to wonder whether my decision to pack away my walking poles had been a good one. However, the uphill work, here and for the rest of the walk, was largely in the shade and I found I didn’t really need the sticks.

There were lots of butterflies around and one obligingly stopped for its closeup.

It may be only a Common Blue, but it’s an attractive colour. From a photographic point of view, I’ve no doubt that I got a better image with the Sony camera I’ve been toting around with me than I would have got with my phone, talented though it is.

Several times since we’ve started this walk, we’ve seen the ground carpeted in small clumps of fluff, and we wondered what had given rise to them. On this walk, we found the answer:

Black Poplar trees spreading their seeds.

Having gone up, we came down again, to another ford, this one very easily negotiable.

The stream had formed a little pool of clear water, in which we could see that tadpoles were swimming about.

A little further on, we passed the remnants of an Etruscan tomb

and were, in turn, passed by a group of three very serious hikers, carrying vast backpacks, who we thought might be pilgrims, but actually turned out to be birdwatchers, judging by the photographic equipment they deployed.

Up we went again, and down again, to a third ford. The stream though this one was a bit more substantial

and the stepping stones were not the sort that would be easy to use for three elderly pilgrims, so drastic measures were needed to cross it.

Jane loved to cool water flowing across her feet; me, less so. But Jane had been provident enough to pack a towel, so I could dry my feet before we carried on. We found several philosophical musings (in Italian) posted by the path

The longest one translated thus: “Whoever walks in the woods is looking for a different, inner freedom that makes him master of his own life. Listen to your breathing; you will listen better to your emotions and the beating of your heart. Do not seek distractions: THIS IS YOUR PATH!” I suppose it was a bit counterproductive that we sought a distraction in the shape of a translation….

After a reasonably substantial upward push, we arrived at a “punto panoramico” as indicated on our interactive map.


This was practically the highest point of the walk, hence, I suppose, being able to see several kilometres back to our starting point. Our map also indicated a “punto ristoro” with an icon of a cup.  The description said there were no services on this route, so I was intrigued to understand what this meant.  At first, it looked like just a resting point in the shade

but closer examination revealed

a coffee machine and a vending machine. My joy on seeing this was complete when I discovered that the coffee machine accepted contactless payment! So we treated ourselves to a rest and a coffee before moving on.

We passed a few more curiosities:

Instructions to dog owners not to let their animals crap on this patch of land

A self-service artisan’s kiosk, with an honesty box for those wanting to buy a decorated shell….

…placed invitingly beside a bench for passers-by to rest on

The previous day, we’d seen olive trees being pruned in what seemed like an odd way, chopping off whole branches and thinning the foliage hugely.  We saw more evidence of this here, too.

This is very different from the olive trees we saw being harvested in the Canaries – tall trees with thick foliage, and pickers up long ladders to reach the crop. Jane researched this and it turns out that what we’re seeing here is a pruning pattern more appropriate for the Tuscan climate: more open to let sunshine hit more places and so that humidity doesn’t affect the fruit; and lower, to make the olives easier to pick.

The surroundings became more urbanised, and we eventually came to the edge of Colle di Val d’Elsa (which henceforth I shall simply called “Colle” for convenience and to save typestrokes).

There was a sort of dissonance between faux-ancient on the right and real ancient on the left. It turned out that the ancient bit was the entrance, through a gate, Porta Nova, to the historic old town of Colle, which is very attractive.

This meant that our accommodation, Arnolfo B&B (named after Arnolfo di Cambio, a sculptor, architect, and urban planner of the 13th century who was born in Colle di Val d’Elsa), rather than being stuck out in some random suburb, as I had originally thought, was actually right in among the centro storico of Colle. The walk to it took us past some fantastic views.

The layout of the place is a bit confusing to first-time visitors, and it took us a little while to find our B&B. We blundered around a bit until Caroline pointed that we were actually standing right outside it.

It turned out that we were in luck; it was a couple of minutes past 1pm, when the reception would be closed, but when we rang the bell we were let in and were able to check in, collect our bags and go to our rooms to change for lunch. We asked the chap behind reception about lunch times and he reeled off a whole series of restaurants we could visit. We ended up settling on one called Il Torrione

which was back by Porta Nova, and which had a terrace at the back with fantastic views over the old town.

We just crept in at 2pm as the gate crashed down and were able to persuade them to give us lunch, and a very fine lunch it was, too – A Nice Lunch, in fact.

We blundered about a bit after lunch because we had various imperatives to address: seeing the Duomo; getting our credenziali stamped; and getting some milk so we could make ourselves tea back at the B&B. We started heading towards the Duomo, a route that led us past lovely views of the old town

and a rather engaging statue, “Il bambino che è in noi”, “the child within us”.

The Duomo has an imposing interior

and several imposing chapels around the edge

with some striking detail work.

After seeing the Duomo, Jane went off to get the stamps and I got the mission to buy the milk. This is where the slightly strange layout of the place had a major impact. The old city (which has no grocery shops of any description) is really well above the industrial newer town (which seemed to have plenty, some of which might be open), and so I had to get from one to the other, which involved finding and tottering down a very steep ramp. It also involved blundering around looking for a supermarket which Google Maps swore was here. Yes, here. But it wasn’t. It was there; a couple of hundred yards away on a different street. I was so grateful to find the milk in this vast supermarket

that I failed to take advantage of the possible availability of Twining’s finest Earl Grey to replenish our rapidly-diminishing stock.

And then, of course, I had to walk back up this bloody ramp

 

Estimated by the protractor app in my phone to be 15° – that’s one in six, or, to be technical, sodding steep

in order to get back to the B&B. Because I got the rough end of this stick, I shall indulge myself by showing you the altitude profile of my afternoon’s wanderings.

Just goes to show what an Englishman will do for a cup of tea.

That pretty much ended things for the day, and we retired to our rooms to prepare for the morrow. We will be walking to Monteriggioni along a route that the S-cape app rhapsodises about. It will be slightly longer but a little easier than today, so I’m hopeful that I will be able to report on another good day once we reach our destination (and hopefully get another Nice Lunch). Check back soon to find out how it all went.

 

 

Day 2 – San Miniato to Gambassi Terme – not so long, but hard

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Tuesday 13 May 2025 – Extraordinarily, given the rigours of yesterday, everyone was in reasonable shape as we convened for breakfast, which was a buffet affair with plenty of variety, so we were all able to eat our fill in preparation for the day to come.

One thing about the day was somewhat daunting – the last 4km of the walk.

This would be twice as long as yesterday’s final climb and ascend twice as far. I wasn’t looking forward to it. Another thing we knew about the walk was that there were effectively no coffee stops (there was one, but it was about three km in, so not particularly useful as a rest stop). So we had to get ourselves some food for a picnic lunch, which we got in a local store.

Off we went, then, through San Miniato, which is a place of monumental architecture

and stunning views.

Even as we walked along the road out of town, it was clear that the locals had some fantastic scenery to look at.

The expected length of the day’s walk was 24km – less than yesterday (praise be), but still a non-trivial amount of walking.  We started off along the road

and a couple of things were borne in on me. Firstly, that there were more walkers/pilgrims out than we’d seen the day before;

and secondly, there were a lot more ups and downs that we’d had to deal with the day before. There was also a lot more road than I had expected; we covered a full 6km – quarter of the day’s walking – on the road, up to a point where I began to wonder if tarmac was going to be the surface for the whole day, and also to get a bit fed up with the amount of up and down. I suppose I should have looked at the profile of the route (first photo) to realise that it was “Inca flat”, a phrase we’d learned in South America that described terrain that ends up the same altitude as it started, but isn’t actually flat at all. You can see from the sawtooth in that profile that this was what we had to deal with today.

Eventually, though, we left the road and joined a much more rural track.

There was still a lot of up and down, though. The track became slightly rougher as we went along

but the going was good; and the scenery was stunning.

The scenery had a role to play in trying to distract me from the rather tedious procession of ups and downs the track took. There was a fire in the distance, which we hoped was a controlled blaze.

We’d read that this route offered “no services” (hence the buying of our picnic lunch) but about 8km in we came across something that called itself a “punto sosta” for the Via Francigena:

a little cabinet with things that suffering walkers might appreciate – pain killers, bandage, disinfectant and so forth.

A charming idea – and one located by a picnic table for the poor sufferer to rest at.

We used the table for a short break, and then ceded it to a German couple who we’d seen the previous day; the gentleman is finding the walking rather trying – and I believe that they hadn’t realised that there were no rest stops on this route, either.

We pressed on and the track led past a wooden sculpture recognising 20 years of the Via Francigena to Rome.

Among the grass it says “20 years road to Rome” with the figure of a pilgrim and his faithful dog. Actually when we found it, it said “20 years oad to Rome”. Jane found the “r” and balanced it in place for the photo.

Next to it was a very amusing sight – an info board pointing out the delights of the view back to San Miniato, except that in the interim, trees had grown up to obscure the view the board purported to explain.

The track by now was a bit rougher still, but the scenery continued to be as much of a distraction as scenery can be. As well as stunning views, we passed a building, presumably a farm building, which had many chickens and other poultry outside

and a very charismatic cockerel posing in the middle of the yard.

Very shortly thereafter we passed two interesting and not unrelated sights: a signpost showing the distances involved in the whole Via Francigena, from Canterbury to Rome;

and a lady from New Zealand who was walking the whole route, but from Rome to Canterbury. That’s dedication, that is.

The track was becoming increasingly rudimentary,

and there were some stretches where mud made picking one’s route a matter of importance. We passed a donkey mill

now disused and repurposed for the storage of hay rather than anything else.

The track was rough and tedious, by this stage, still going up and down like a very up and down thing, but the scenery continued to be stunning, if one could be bothered to appreciate it.

The touble was, appreciating it was beginning to be very difficult. We found a shady place to stop and eat our sandwiches and it was at about this point – somewhat over half way – that my body decided that the goodwill it had extended to get me this far was used up and started to go on selective strikes. The mechanism that provided energy to the leg muscles clocked off; and the one that mitigated pain to the shoulders started a work to rule.

In the following photo of the lovely scenery

it is possible to see our destination for the day, Gambassi Terme.

and, as expected, it’s quite a lot higher than we were at this point. About 4km from our end point, the route started up,

and I noted the situation shown by S-cape’s interactive route map of the day.

to which my response was this.

The couple of kilometres after lunch were the worst. The couple of kilometres after that, they were the worst, too. After that, things went into to a bit of a decline. All three of us struggled for those last four km. We didn’t even make it all the way up to Gambasi Terme

as our accommodation, Ostello Sigerico was (mercifully) a kilometre or so short of the town. We were grateful to be able to stop. Jane and I collapsed into something of a daze for a while before cleaning ourselves up for an evening meal.

Given what feels like the hard work I’d put in to days 1 and 2 of this walk, I was a bit miffed, on checking in with the data collected by my Garmin activity tracker, to find that, although I’d undergone 434 minutes of activity yesterday and 350 today, only 7 and 5 minutes respectively were considered to have been “vigorous”. I have to tell you that it bloody didn’t feel that way inside my body.

As the name of  our accommodation suggests, it’s not a luxury hotel, but a hostel – towards the luxury end of these things, but a hostel nevertheless. (Sigerico was a 10th-century Archbishop of Canterbury who made a pilgrimage to Rome, following the Via Francigena and arriving in 990.) Our terms were half board, and the evening meal was very much a pilgrim meal – pasta followed by pork and beans. Basic, but nonetheless wholesome and tasty. We shared a table with some Francophone people, a couple and a single, who each, in their own way, were dedicating time in their lives to covering significant parts of the Via Francigena.

Tomorrow, we actually get the chance for a more relaxed day – about 15km of walking, although there’s quite a bit of up and down in it.

It will be interesting to see how our energy levels are. The target is San Gimignano,a UNESCO World Heritage site, so I hope we arrive with sufficient energy to go sightseeing around it. Stay tuned to see how the day turned out.

 

Farewell, Tasmania; Hello, Mainland

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Tuesday 17 September 2024 – We had to depart Tasmania yesterday, after 12 days and 1200km of travelling across and around the island. It was cold and windy most of the time, wet for some of the time, and even sunny for some of it – but we really enjoyed our time there. All we had to do for today was to get ourselves to Hobart airport, return the hire car and catch a Virgin Australia flight to our next destination – Canberra, the capital of Australia.

So, we bade a final farewell to the hotel’s fine view over Coles Bay

and drove the 220km to Hobart via some more attractive east coast scenery

and a brief stop at the “Spiky Bridge”, which is near a town called Swansea (to get to which you drive past Pontypool, I might add).

This is a convict-built bridge, with, erm, spikes along the top.

No-one knows why.  If you look closely at the mortar, you can see the shells incorporated to provide calcium

which shows that material was probably taken from an aboriginal midden, similarly to what we saw at the Henry Jones Art Hotel in Hobart.

The popular legend is that the Spiky Bridge was built after a chap called Edward Shaw offered the Superintendent of Rocky Hills Probation Station, Major de Gillern, a ride home one night after a game of cards. Shaw intended to highlight the hazards for Tasmanian travelers and wanted improvements made to the road between Swansea and Little Swanport. Rather than wait patiently for his repeated requests to be granted, he raced the Major home at breakneck speed through the gully to prove his case. Needless to say, the bridge was erected shortly after.

The bridge was the last diversion on our airport journey, and we arrived wondering if VA could find any more ways of buggering us about, our anxiety stemming from when we tried its online check-in and it wouldn’t recognise the credentials we provided. We therefore joined the VA check-in queue and it turned out that they’d tossed only a minor googly in our direction; the flight was being fulfilled by Link Airways, we were too early for their check-in and so should wait fifteen minutes and queue up over there, no just there, to complete the process.  So we got ourselves coffee and whilst Jane guarded our prized place at the head of this check-in queue, I went off to do a slightly better job of getting a photo of the devilishly charming art installation in the airport’s baggage collection area.

The queue for security was a bit of a zoo

and the flight’s departure was slightly delayed but otherwise everything went smoothly until the landing, which the captain accurately warned us would be lumpy due to high winds. A taxi whisked us swiftly to our hotel, the QT, which was behind a maze of construction work

which, we were told, was part of construction of a new light railway and had been going on for quite some time. We were a little dismayed to find that our second-floor room looked out over these works, which are due to start at 7am daily; so Jane had a chat with the receptionist and he was kind enough to relocate us to the sixth floor, looking the other way (our room, not the receptionist). So I’d like formally to apologise to whoever got room 215 for the night of 17th September.

After a bite to eat and a glass of something cold we went out for a bit of a stroll, obviously, round the back of the hotel

where some sulphur-crested cockatoos were tucking in to some yummy grass

and when we got back we found that our relocated room gave us a great view of the sunset over Black Mountain.

We have a “day at leisure” tomorrow in Canberra, and the weather forecast is good: 18°C and sunny. I wonder what we’ll do with the day?