One last WG.

At Siena station.

Stage 33. Monteriggioni to Siena. Part 2. Siena bowls me over.

The schlepp may be long and tedious, but once through the gate into the old part

I had to keep picking my jaw off the floor.  It's a very impressive city, and the old part is much larger than any other so far experienced.  It absolutely drips history from every crack, crevice and crenellated rooftop.  The Duomo,

known for its 'sgraffitto floor is a monochrome masterpiece, featuring a Pisano pulpit

and multiple works of religious art by notable artists.  The highlight was the library ceiling.

And then there's the Campo, scene of the infamous annual Palio.  I've created another album.

Photos of San Gimignano duomo

Link to album

Stage 33. Monteriggioni to Siena. Part 1. What the blazes is THAT?

After a meagre supper (takeaway from a Monteriggioni restaurant since there are no shops) at my isolated mountain overnight stop,  and a few nuts for breakfast, I set off into a decidedly cool morning, once it was light enough to see the woodland track which took me back to the Via.  The Italian with whom I travelled for a couple of days, and who is now much further ahead, had told me of a pilgrim breakfast en route, so I hastened thither forthwith, finding two fortified houses just outside La Villa.

The pilgrim oasis is run by volunteers, primarily one Marcello, (who cut Greg Rutherford's hair in the BBC documentary) and as well as a spotless and amply provisioned bathroom, a vast array of beverages and snacks was available.  A large friendly doggy and two sweet cats formed part of the entourage and assorted Italian men also dropped in.  After gratefully filling my stomach and grabbing a snack for the road, contributing to the visitors' book and getting a stamp, I made a donation and set off on the last 13km to Siena, my departure prompted more by the arrival of a loud and insensitive party of Americans who have been on my tail for days than by any desire to leave that tranquil spot.

Passing through mixed oak and chestnut woods, with a few open stretches of field, and one tiresome length of tarmac, I spotted two of the bright orange fungi pictured above.  Does anyone know what they are?  Morelles?

So rapt in thought was I (I seem to be channelling the 18th century today), that I missed a perfect WG moment as I came to a road being resurfaced by various loud and thrilling machines. In recompense I hope you'll accept this image instead.

and so, a last glimpse of countryside before the long schlepp up to Siena.

Stage 32b. Il Pietreto to Monteriggioni. Best seen from outside.

That tiny smudge in the distance? It becomes this:

and finally (once you've passed through it) this:

In between the gate in

and the gate 

There are just souvenir shops, restaurants and a tiny chapel.

So much better seen from afar, and my Airbnb in a remote hamlet also has a view of it.

Stage 32b. Il Pietreto to Monteriggioni. Part 1.

Although today was largely dominated by the hilltop fortress of Monteriggioni, there were also other finds, like La Strove's charming piazza (it also has a very good butcher/baker/cafe and an hotel), and the chocolatey soil currently being ploughed everywhere.

Olive groves awaiting their harvest

and some colourful shoes in the centre of Monteriggioni.

Oh! How I lusted after those.

But principally the day belonged to views of Monteriggioni; the first glimpse being from Abbadia l'Isola, where there were also 2 fairly clean pilgrim loos, outside the Abbey, just as the coffee in La Strove began to demand attention.

Stage 32a. San Gimignano to il Pietreto. The third meeting earns me a coffee.

Supper of raviolo ai funghi, given it's mushroom season.  I'd met a mushroom forager the previous morning, who, conjuring a perfect image of a greying beard with one eloquent gesture, explained his light basket was because the porcini were getting old.

Despite some very poor signage in and around the city, (stamp from tourist office, though) I reluctantly left San Gimignano behind, and set out through more vineyards, gradually segueing into oak woods.  

I kept meeting two Dutch sisters, siblings rather than nuns, and at the third meeting they explained that by Dutch custom, after the third encounter, they were now obliged to buy me something, which they duly did at the next café.

Shortly after, on this stretch, I came across a British transit van, its delivery driver and her bored lab, who (the driver, not the dog) had managed to wedge the van on the road in the dark the previous night.  Her sister in Florence had sorted out assistance, which was due shortly, and she explained that in between deliveries around Europe she takes off on adventures, this one was an attempt to reach a fluvial bathing spot, which I came across later.

The walking and scenery were glorious, but after this reminder of how far I've come, at a free pilgrim oasis, I was glad to reach my Tuscan villa with cool pool for an evening dip, just outside Graciano d'Elsa in pretty gardens and woods, passing on the way an inviting looking stone-rimmed and limpid bathing spot.

Postscript to Stage 16. I pay the ferryman....

While enjoying the company recently of the Austrian/NZ couple on the way to Gambassi, talk turned to experiences with the famous Po ferryman.  It turns out mine is not the only negative encounter.  Furthermore, rumour hath it that he is actually paid by at least one Via organisation to provide this service, and is apparently not supposed to request payment.

Stage 31. Gambassi Terme to San Gimignano. Vineyards, towers and frescoes. Part 2.

A Tuscan tunnel, before my first sight of the towers of San Gimignano.

then into the city itself, which, although heaving with tourists, just like me, is marvellous.

Its towers are neck- cracking.

and the frescoes in the Duomo worth the €5 ticket (no pilgrim discount!) and covered shoulders.  They're so good I've created a separate album for you which will appear later.

Stage 31. Gambassi Terme to San Gimignano. Vineyards, towers and frescoes. Part 1.

Early morning departure from my slightly down at heel B&B on the outskirts, just as the sun was rising and mist lay in ribbons between the ridges.

Breakfast of pistachio croissant and ample cups of cappuccino to fuel me, a pharmacy stop for stronger anti-mosquito lotion, although I fear it's bolting stable doors, then off into the rolling vineyards of some serious wine country

and dirt tracks.

For the first time on the Via, a toilet!  It's worth saying that I do spend a fair proportion of the walking day looking for a secluded spot for relief; the wooded sections are fine, those long ones along roads are agony, and, in the northern rice fields, where there's no undergrowth and a multiply-windowed farmhouse generally looming nearby, you can guarantee that just as I found a suitably angled corner of a ditch, a tractor would suddenly sprout up out of the ground, where previously there'd been not a soul in sight.  I would have kissed the owner of this vineyard, had they been around.

Rest day: Gambassi Terme

A few pics of the delightful little town of Gambassi Terme, formerly a centre of the glass industry to rival Murano, trading widely, thanks to the Via.

Its park has three oak tunnels.

and someone's collected a lot of wood and stone.

WG moment from Altopascio

To keep the WG club happy (see 4 October entry for explanation).  A level crossing AND a train.  Double joy.

Stage 30. San Miniato to Gambassi Terme. Tuscany lives up to its stereotype.

Sunday, and no buses to take me up to the top of the town, so accompanied by residual owl hoots I clambered back up at the first stirring of the day and enjoyed an oven-fresh croissant above a soft dawn landscape.

A long stage, made longer by my choice of B&B, was eased by the excellent company of a Swiss evangelical pastoress, and a lively Austrian and New Zealand couple, who have walked this stretch multiple times for its sheer beauty.

As the Via describes a wide arc between the towns, the landscape is truly spectacular, conforming in all aspects to every image I have of Tuscany.

and finally exploding in an autumnal kaleidoscope as we reached the Pillo vineyards.

A steady climb up to the lovely end point in Gambassi, where my host collected me.  Dinner with my earlier companions and two Brits doing a dry run of a guided walk before my host once more transported me to her home.

Stage 29b: Fucecchio to San Miniato. Donkeys and ditches.

A lazy, short stage of 10km down from Fucecchio across the Arno to the hilltop town of San Miniato.  After clearing the road out of Fucecchio, the route followed the Arno for a short stretch, past the little veggy gardens of the suburbs, until the dike veered away and struck out into lowland villages, while San Miniato started to loom ahead.  

A stiff climb up a winding road with no pedestrian path, and poor signage as the bends became hairpin, before finally levelling out on the main street.  There was more climbing to an ornate piazza

and more to the cathedral

and yet more to a belvedere looking down on the town.  But I saw these two lovely girls instead.

I could have climbed even more up a tower, but I'd have had to pay, so I got my stamp in the tourist office and took the bus down to my B&B, mendaciously described as on the Via (evidently 400m across a main road and a large ditch doesn't count).

Sad tidings spur me on

While walking the last few stages, I have been very conscious that one of the members of our family who inspired this journey was close to the end of his life.  Allan Young had been living with dementia for several years, and in the afternoon, as I reached Fucecchio, news came of his death.

Despite his illness, he and his wife and sons were still able to enjoy each other's company, love and support until the last few days.

Allan was a keen walker, and had completed many long-distance walks.  He would have enjoyed this one, I'm sure, so his illness and death lend a particular bittersweet resonance to these few days on the Via.  Just as dementia brings changed lives to all affected, so every day on the Via brings change to how we experience the journey, and our reasons for keeping on putting one foot in front of the other.

Un passo alla volta as they say.

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