Stage 45: La Storta to Rome. The last post? Not quite. Part 3.

Then utter dismay, after 22km, at seeing long queues snaking back and forth to the Basilica, where I knew I could get my Testimonium. Luckily, however, pilgrims get fast tracked; speak to the official on the disabled entrance. Once through security, another official to speak to, round the corner and up the side of the Square, another barrier to be undone, and into a long hall, where 4 young men were doing cloakroom attendant duty, but one of them gave me my last stamp and the Testimonium.  

And that was it. No fanfares, no handshake, no priestly benediction with censor and holy water, and certainly no invitation to a papal audience (unlike the Z-listers in the documentary who got a private session). It was very matter of fact and a tad deflating. Then into the stunning Basilica (no photos can really do it justice) and a good long gawp (and a few tears) before photos with passport and Testimonium, and a good feed at the first restaurant I came to. And a massive storm.

And all day a full gamut of emotions: apprehension/excitement, relief/disappointment, determination/apathy, tearfulness/joy, elation/deflation, anticlimax and a bit of pride too. Very little spiritual, although I've certainly been inhabiting a clear space, as entering the frenzy of Rome has highlighted. It's going to take a while to work through all of that.

But ultimately, the achievement stands, the journey has run its course, and I have been profoundly affected by it. I'll write another set of posts reflecting on all of that once today has been digested.

Finally, I want to remember here the important people who inspired this: Joan, Meg, Joyce, Mary, Paul, Allan and Linda. This was for them and everyone like them. In a sense they've been on the journey too, and they should be remembered.  

If you have also enjoyed being on the journey, thanks for your company, which has been much appreciated (and please donate if you can).

Stage 45: La Storta to Rome. The last post? Not quite. Part 2.

The inevitable climb after that taking me through increasingly busy suburbs before Monte Mario park (wild boar with swine fever, no picnics, no rubbish - lots of evidence of both) 

afforded the first view of my ultimate destination.  

Buoyed by that and a sourdough sandwich, I set off on the last 5km, cursing whoever thought it was inspired to use big irregular lumps of stone on a footpath descending from park to main road, and at last onto the final 2km or so of straight noisy road, 

so long they needed to give it three names, leading directly to Bernini's colonnade, which finally appeared at about midday.

Stage 45: La Storta to Rome. The last post? Not quite. Part 1.

I made it to St Peter's!  

On the one hand, so easy to sum it up in six words, on the other, a day concluding four years of planning, training and doing the thing; so much coming together at one time in one place.

The day started with a very early train back to La Storta, trying to avoid both the strike at 08.30, and the rain forecast for the afternoon. I felt very emotional, partly because of a stampede of night mustangs, and partly because I was aware that this was the final stage. Some cheering words from home perked me up, as I found a stamp in the first cafe after the station, and set off along rush hour Via Cassia, 

mendaciously described as a 3km stretch, Strava giving that the lie at 5km. It's all pavement (US sidewalk), thankfully, apart from a very short stretch and not uphill.

Then a long break from modern Roman traffic, through a slightly muddy, wet, weed-lined path after heavy overnight rain, along a mainly flat valley in La Insugherata.  

Transfer day: Sutri to Rome.

I have arrived in Rome, but not yet on the Via.  A quick ride into town, established myself at my digs near the Vatican, ready for a short trot back once I finish in St Peter's, and then a stroll around the Forum and Coliseum in rain and crowds.  Impressive, and overwhelming.