Previdè

Very little to report, just that I am in a magical little village tucked away in the mountains. I'm staying in the house on the left at the end of the street, a beautifully restored stone house with a mezzanine bedroom. Hmm, ring any bells?

Stage 19b and 20a: Medesano to Bardone. Brooms and bales. (Part 2)

Down steeply and then an arduous graft along the uphill snaking of an open road for 5km, dodging speeding cars, with no shade, keeping going by counting off the steps: 100 to a finger, 500m to a fist, 1km for both, and then a few more for luck. By 4,000 my body told me to stop, and I realised I'd walked for 18km on caffeine and water with only the odd photo stop, so I dug out the enormous cheese and tomato baguette the hotel had armed me with, and sat on the cemetery steps at Sivizzano for a time, before picking up my sticks and marching on. 200m further on was a bar.

A little further on, the Via has a summer route, crossing and recrossing a torrente 

and weaving through trees and fields, with more broom, before rejoining the main road just before the Bardone turn off.

Up steeply then to the well-kept hamlet of Bardone and its little medieval pieve, 

where the community has a little shady, grassy area with swings, slides and tables and chairs, looking out at a marvellous view of fields, trees and swathes of broom.  

The next stage, which will be serious uphillery, starts here, but tomorrow I transfer to Previdè.

Today I had a conversation with the taxi driver's Australian wife, on the car's speakers. And then he took me to the parmesan factory just up the road from the hotel, which has a deli, windows onto the dairy, a restaurant and ample verandahs. Focaccia and gelato and fresh milk were then ingested.

Stage 19b and 20a: Medesano to Bardone. Brooms and bales. (Part 1)

From the outskirts of Medesano, with a bracing climb away from the main road, where emergency vehicles were screaming along, up to a ridge above the river, past sleepy horses and rousing sleeping dogs, I tramped my way to Felegara, and down steeply to the riverside park, between the Taro and the A15 motorway, which heads into Tuscany far more directly than me. The path took me through scrubby woodland, the scent of bright yellow broom blossom accompanying me, and elderflower and the last few acacias adding further layers of perfume. I met only one cyclist on that 7km stretch, and a black snake wiggled swiftly across the path just as I came to these monsters lining the path.

Then the bridge across the Taro,

 

guarded by this weary pilgrim,

into Fornovo, where coffee was taken, and the Duomo, 

though open for Sunday business did not yield a stamp, and the adjacent tourist office, which certainly would (with the usual forms to fill in) was helpfully closed on Sundays.

A stiff climb up a winding hillside road followed, up to the little hamlet of Caselle, perched on a ridge and an old Roman road, looking out over glorious country, festooned with flowering broom.

Stage 19a: Fidenza to Medesano. In the hills at last.

My taxi to Fidenza arrived as booked at 7am, but the taxi driver, said: " is it OK if I have a coffee first?" and disappeared into the hotel. He was back soon and it turned out his wife is Australian, and he's invited me to chat to her.

On the outskirts of Fidenza, I met another pilgrim heading south, but he raced ahead, as the grassy path, lined with pollarded trees began to rise out of the plains.

It felt good to be walking upwards again, having to adjust my pace to the incline, and not always being able to see to the horizon as the path undulated in and out of trees. Walking on the flat paths has felt unnatural, alien and disturbing; now I was in my element as I looked back down towards Fidenza far in the distance.

I passed a castle 

And then climbed up a farm track through meadows to a ridge, and suddenly, there it was, the Italy I had been waiting for, among the foothills of the Apennines.  

Fields of hay, alfalfa and broad beans now, vineyards and pine trees. Hilltop houses and churches, and layer after layer of ridges stretching towards the mountains.

I walked up hills and down into valleys, along ridges and down farm tracks, fording a small stream and finding another field of poppies just outside Medesano.

This is glorious country, and the kilometres just disappeared beneath my feet. A beautiful day.

Parma and Piacenza.

After a weird supper of bits hastily scratched together from a Indian fruit, veg and general store after arriving in Parma (avocado, Maggie noodles, strawberries and melon), I spent a marvellous air-conditioned night and woke to the sound of swifts nesting under the eaves of my very comfortable last-minute apartment.

Despite the strike, I managed a straightforward transfer to Medesano on the bus which stopped right outside my hotel, although first impressions were not encouraging.

All I saw of Parma was this cat,

and the bus and railway stations, but here are some images of downtown Piacenza.

Stage 18: Fiorenzuola to Fidenza. And back again and again...(Part 2)

And so into Fidenza, hot and weary, to find the extraordinary western facade of the Duomo.  

Lunch and then to the tourist office just opposite the Duomo for a stamp, accompanied by an interrogation and a gift of cheese; we are in parmesan country after all. Then a photo in front of the Duomo for their records, and much interest expressed in the sponsoring aspect of the journey, and the URL for justgiving provided.  

At Fidenza station, I happened to notice a message scrolling across the departure board warning of another strike tomorrow, that being the day when I had planned to do my most complicated transfer to Medesano, where trains are infrequent and few buses run.

On my way back from Piacenza station I called in at the bus station to see if a total bus itinerary might be possible, only to discover that the strike also covers buses.

So, plan D results in my having swiftly packed and travelled to Parma for a night so that travel to Medesano is more easily accomplished tomorrow.

One of the lovely hotel staff took me to the station, and I got on the train. Then she rang me to say I still had the keys. I dashed off the train, ran out to the forecourt to meet her, and then ran back onto the train, only then realising that I'd left my bigger bag on the train. Luckily all was fine. Surprisingly, given the disruption tomorrow, the train was pretty empty. 

 Fiorenzuola is a nice enough wee town, but: three times in one day?

Stage 18: Fiorenzuola to Fidenza. And back again, and again…(Part 1)

An early bus to Fiorenzuola, where I roused a rather harassed-looking parrochial functionary for my pilgrim stamp. A quick breakfast by the Duomo and enormous clock tower, 

Then off onto flat country again, for the last time, I believe, and into the delightful village of Chiaravalle, 

where more caffeine was taken.

More tarmac and narrow roads, with a brief interlude on a shady gravel path, new hay and mountains beyond, 

And a reminder of how far I've walked on this path already, and how much further to Rome, but also that I am definitely now more than halfway on this 450km trip to Lucca.