Tag Archives: Scenery

Day 3 – Gambassi Terme to San Gimignano – shorter, but still non-trivial

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Wednesday 14 May 2025 – The very basic nature of our hostel accommodation was heavily borne in on us as we went down to breakfast. The tables had been set out with places allocated by name – and those before us had clearly completely ignored all this and there were basically no untouched places left for us to sit at; also, all the bread had been taken and not replaced, the kettle was nearly empty and the kitchen was locked. This was a very poor show, we thought. We’d arranged an 8am start between us and the many people who had exited earlier had swept through the buffet like a plague of locusts. It would have been a good idea to have someone on duty in the kitchen to help with replacement fodder. We organised tea and I had some cereal, but there was little there for Caroline or Jane to eat.

It’s an attractive enough setting

round the back of a 12th-Century church just outside Gambassi Terme,

but one feels it could be better run.

Off we went, then, at about 0830, into a morning in which the fog was just clearing. The Via Francigena signs pointed us towards Gambassie Terme, but the S-cape app’s red line bypassed the place.  We followed the line, and so I’m afraid I can’t tell you what the town was like. “Terme”, by the way, means it was a spa town.

The profile for the day (let me remined you here)

showed us going down from Gambassi Terme, then up about 300m overall (ugh!) before descending once more before a gentle rise up to San Gimignano. We started on tarmac before heading off on a dirt road

which led past an intriguing sign.

The scenery was, as before, lovely.

and I was particularly taken with the “stripy corduroy” effect achieved in some patches of vines.

The Chianti sign enigma was explained a little further on, as we passed an attractive winery.

It offered stamps for our “credenziali” (passports for the route) and the sign outside said it was open. But I think it was kind of Spanish open, i.e. closed. So we moved on, but in researching the name later, I learned a little to supplement my non-existent understanding of Italian wine. The Chianti region is in central Tuscany, with Chianti Classico being the area between Florence and Siena. This winery might produce Classico, or possibly Chianti Colli Senesi, which is regional to San Gimignano. Classico must be at least 80% Sangiovese grape variety, other variants of Chianti must be at least 70%.

We were on the down stretch of the walk, but soon reached the bottom, by another fine-looking establishment

which turned out to be a newly-opened agriturismo outfit called La Torre. At this point, the uphill work starts.

It was a long uphill pull, at times quite steep – but at least a lot of it was in the shade, which made it a lot less unpleasant than yesterday’s toil.

We passed a horse-riding centre (calling itself “Via Francigena”, so presumably offering people the chance to ride part of the route)

one of whose dogs accompanied us quite a way carrying a ball

but it didn’t want to part with it, so clearly wasn’t a retriever.

The steep uphill work continued for a while

but at least offered us great views of where we had earlier been descending.

We passed some handsome buildings

many of which seemed to be some kind of agriturismo setup, but none of which could actually be arsed to set up a coffee stop for thirsty passing pilgrims (of which it had to be said, there was a steady trickle).

We passed through a village, Pancole, which also had no coffee stops, but it did have a sanctuary.

We couldn’t, sadly, explore it because it was in use; a mass was about to start for a congregation seemingly made up of the local elderly and infirm – lots of ambulances and taxis outside – they didn’t invite us in, though.

We followed the road a little further until we could see San Gimignano in the distance; it didn’t seem to be much higher than we were, so I thought that perhaps the worst of the climb was over.

Wrongly, as it turned out. The Via signposts took us on to a track which carried on steeply uphill. In the spirit of proper completion, we grimly ploughed on and up, past more handsome buildings (but no coffee stops)

until we (a) got a good glimpse of our destination, San Gimignano

and (b) reached the highest point of the walk, marked by the Monasterio de Cellole.

In the inevitable way of these things, our route then led us down to a very poorly-designed road which led further down before going up into San Gimignano. One would have hoped the designers would have worked out some way of keeping it level for us poor pilgrims, but no. However, there was a consolation and a distraction because the views were, as before, stupendous. It was occasionally possible to catch a nice vignette of the countryside

but by and large it’s too big to fit into a single photo.


Eventually, we toiled up into San Gimignano, which is, you guessed it, very steep in places, mainly up

as we had to get to our hotel, Hotel La Cisterna, which is in the town’s main square, i.e. the highest point. Before you boys at the back start any schoolboy giggles, the name is nothing lavatorial. “Cisterna” in Italian means “Well”, which is more than one can say for the current US President, and you can see the well right in front of our hotel.

Our run of luck, of hotels being ready for us, continued, and our baggage had arrived, so, it being only about 1pm by this stage, we could swiftly get hosed down and changed and head out for a decent lunch, which we took just round the corner at a bar/cafe called Torre Guelfa.

After lunch, we were all feeling a siesta coming on, so had a quick look at the Duomo

and found out its opening hours for a later expedition for some sightseeing and gelato. We were intrigued by one gelato shop

which had the most extraordinary queue. It’s not as if it was the only one in town, so we decided it would clearly bear research later, when the crowds had dissipated. We also decided to visit one very interesting museum that Jane had found, to make sure we got to it before it closed.

It’s a beautiful recreation of how San Gimignano – “The City of Towers” – would have looked in medieval times. At one stage there were over a hundred towers in the town, mainly built by people to show off. 14 remain, and you can see some of them in the photos on this page.

Siesta over, we ventured out once more with our main objective being ice-cream a visit to the cathedral.  It is a well-recommended activity, and costs only €5 to get in. I wasn’t sure what to expect from such a highly-touted place, but there was a tiny clue as we headed for the entrance.

What you see, on walking in, is remarkably impactful. The interior of the church is liberally covered with frescoes and it made a huge impression on me.

It’s not an intimate space for communing with God, but it has a certain majesty about it.

Here’s a gallery of some of the photos I took to try to convey what the interior looks like.

After that, ice-cream seemed to be a good thing, so we went back to that popular shop

where the queue had died down a bit, and we could see the staggering variety of ice-cream they offered.

We consumed ours whilst sitting on the Duomo steps, and after that a drink seemed a necessity. We were heading for the Terraza outside our hotel when Jane suggested we walk down a side alley to a punto panoramico that (as it happens) our hotel bedroom looks out on. This was a good move.

There is a little enoteca in the Cisterna square called Divinorum, and it has a back door that offers a fantastic view in the afternoon sunshine.

A drink there in the last of the sunshine set us up nicely for a reasonably early night in preparation for the morrow.

Tomorrow’s walk is about the same length as today’s was, but should be a little less arduous. We have to get to Colle Val d’Elsa and the S-cape app describes the walk as “one of the most beautiful routes on the Via Francigena”. So we can look forward to something much nicer than the humdrum views we’ve been subjected to so far, eh?

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.

 

Lizard Island, Part 1

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Saturday 5 October 2024 – Yesterday, 4th October, marked the start of the last leg of our two-month trip around Australia, as we beat a fairly hasty Retreat from the Rose Gums Wilderness (see what I did there?). Our destination for the day was Lizard Island, a 10 km² chunk of the Great Barrier Reef, off the north-east coast of Australia. The name refers to a multi-island group, a National Park, and a resort of the same name. The main island is small, and the only ways to get to it are by boat or on a light aircraft; using the latter was our plan, a one-hour flight departing from Cairns airport. We had a mild attack of planning hiccups when it became clear that we didn’t know how to get from the Avis car rental return depot to the “General Aviation Terminal” whence the East Air flight would depart. Our Audley instructions were simply to “make our way” thither, but it looked like it was over 1km, which is a bit daunting when burdened by suitcases and backpacks. We were also not sure that we’d get away with our baggage as it was – probably overweight and possibly oversize. (I emphasise that I’m talking about our luggage, here, but two months of relentless tourism travelling meant that those adjectives also applied to us by this stage.) We had pre-empted problems by hiving off some of the heavier and less relevant items (including my drone) into separate bags for storage whilst Jane contacted the Lizard Island Resort and we learnt a couple of key things: firstly, the flight was with an airline called Hinterland (not East Air as Audley had told us); the second was that there was a transfer possible (which it was clear that Audley had not booked for us), but the nice lady on the other end of the phone was able to fix it.

So we scurried off into the gathering dawn and drove to Cairns, where Avis agreed that I hadn’t trashed their nice Camry and where we had time for a coffee before being collected and taken to Hinterland’s small but comfortable terminal.  I had a slightly tense moment when they weighed my camera bag; we’d been told that there was a 5kg weight limit on hand baggage, but they didn’t seem too fazed by my 11kg of camera and related stuff. I’m not sure what I’d have done if they’d objected.

We were shown upstairs into the lounge where we made idle chitchat with fellow passengers Susan and Michael from Denver, and later with a chap called Harry who was travelling out to Lizard Island to skipper the resort’s fancy fishing yacht. He gave me the tip to sit on the starboard side of the plane if I wanted to take photos of the Reef as we went, which of course I did.  So I sharpened up my elbows in preparation. Our plane turned out to be (yet) another Cessna Caravan, so I knew which seat to head for, from previous experience.

There were some clouds around, but both Jane and I managed some, OK loads of, photos as we flew to the island. Here are some of them.

Cairns
A tanker which has just dischaged something that looks vaguely unpleasant
Batt Reef
Elm Beach
Three Islands Reef
Boulder Reef
Rocky Islets Reef
North Direction Island

Lizard Island

The resort is part of the Relais et Chateaux group and so one would expect a lovely environment and great service. One was not disappointed. We were whisked away by buggy to lunch with a view

while our bags were spirited off to our cabin, which shared, with Thala Beach, the distinction of being practically as far away from the bar as was possible. but which made up for that with its view.

After all our schlepping round Australia, I had expected our two-day stay here to be an opportunity, to misquote Br’er Rabbit, to “lie low and do nothin'”. It almost immediately became clear that this, while possible, was not the probable MO of our stay here, as that very afternoon there was a “bat walk”; an excursion to view the island’s colony of flying foxes. Harry the boat skipper had mentioned back in Cairns that there was a research station on the island, part of the National Park and sufficiently distinguished to have hosted no less an eminence than David Attenborough in the past, so a visit there was an attractive option. It’s indicative of the quality of service of the resort that they were able to fix up a way that we could squeeze in a visit to the facility on the morning of our departure. There would also be an opportunity to do some snorkelling. This is something that I had previously set my face against, but I decided to Feel The Fear And Do It Anyway. I’d brought my waterproof camera with me, and I would therefore hope to get some worthwhile underwater shots while not making a complete arse of myself in the snorkelling group.

All of this activity did leave us some time to relax, but come 5pm, it was time to hunt the bats, so we went for a walk. Obviously. Our guide, Lauren, was the resident naturalist for the resort, and thus, as one would expect, was very knowledgeable about all sorts of aspects of the wildlife and environment here, and also some of the history.  We climbed “Chinaman’s Ridge”, which gave us a decent view over Watson’s Bay.

Why is it called Watson’s Bay? I hear you cry. Well, it’s named after Mary Watson, who in 1881 settled in a stone cottage built there by her husband, Robert Watson. About 20 years before, other stone buildings had been erected there by Europeans, Chinese and South Sea Islanders in order to process bêche-de-mer, which is the posh French name for sea cucumbers. Sadly, the location was one that was sacred to the aboriginal tribes who had been dwelling hereabouts for several thousand years, and they eventually took umbrage and spears, and attacked Mrs. Watson and the two Chinamen who worked alongside her. The Chinamen were killed, and Mary Watson fled, but died in the escape attempt; her courage and the dignity she evinced in her journal of the episode has etched this rather distressing (and disrespectful) episode into the public imagination, and the site – now just the ruins of the cottage and visible from Chinaman’s Ridge –

is now listed on the Queensland Heritage Register.

Back to the bats, though. The idea of the walk was to see the colony of fruit bats who hang out (see what I did there?) in mangrove thickets. It’s a small colony, about 200 strong,

of black flying foxes, which were rather unexpectedly at eye level rather than high in the treetops. The mangroves were so thick it was still difficult to get good shots of them though. They were preparing to go out to forage,

but there was other fauna to be seen,

Male Garden Sun Bird
Pacific Golden Plover

and flora – kapok fruits bursting into seed on some trees and with flowers still on display in others.

After the walk, we had dinner in the restaurant, hanging from the roof of which was a Sun Bird nest, with the female guarding eggs and looking out at the world.

My plans to spend the whole of today, Saturday 5th, doing nothing also failed to materialise. Since we were on Lizard Island, Jane had the idea of going out and looking for lizards. She had another item on her agenda, which was to look for her sunglasses, which she was convinced had fallen off whilst we were looking at the bats. She told the hotel reception about the loss, but they had nothing handed in. So once again, we went for a walk. Obviously.

Actually, we cheated slightly. As we were walking the path towards the airport, a buggy driven by the resort’s Experience Manager, Paul, drew up, and he offered us a lift part way – indicative of the level of service the resort delivers. Paul took us to the track we’d walked the previous day and Jane and I cast about for the exact spot where we’d been watching the bats.  We eventually found it, but there were only footprints; no sign of the sunglasses. We did get some lizard pictures, though – various differently-sized Yellow Spotted (or Argos) Monitor Lizards, with the largest being a couple of metres from head to tail.

We got photos of a couple of other creatures, too.

Great Egret (juvenile)
Bar-shouldered Dove

On the way back to the hotel, we passed a bar called the Marlin Bar.  It is part of the hotel but is open to the public (e.g. those who have arrived by boat and been fishing for the day), and so we felt it our duty to pop in and check it out. Over the bar is a replica of a huge (500kg) Marlin that had been caught at some stage and which, I believe, had been the catalyst for starting the Lizard Island Marlin Challenge, winners of which were listed at the bar. I should point out that all marlin caught are returned to the sea…

It was

a pool bar. Boom, tish.

We headed back to the hotel proper for a final drink, and while we were sitting at the bar we got another dose of the hotel’s excellent service; one of the receptionists came up and handed Jane her sunnies! One of the staff had been out at around midday to watch the bats, had noticed the sunglasses there and picked them up. Back at reception, two plus two were added, the result four was obtained, Jane’s presence (surprising, this) at the bar was noted and the sunglasses handed over, to loud cheers and much laughter. It’s not like they were posh or expensive, but nonetheless Jane was very grateful to all the staff concerned in getting the glasses back to her.

After dinner, we headed back to our cabin,

and so I thought I’d end the day with a photographic cliché, just for you.

We have one more day here, but relaxing during it is not where my head is; I have decided that I will go snorkelling, despite having set my face against ever suffering the faff, salt water and embarrassment that has dogged my previous attempts. So, instead of relaxing, I shall be spending the day psyching myself up for it. Stay tuned to see how it went, eh?