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.