26.05.2010 Villafranca – Ponzano Superiore

We have been retracing our steps for the past two or three days, but now we are retracing our friendships too. Having met Heiko and Susan through my last VF blog, the contact has been maintained and now we are meeting them in Aulla with a view to walking back to their home in Ponzano Superiore, which is also on the VF route. The morning walking is generally easy, though with a long stretch on the SS26, which is inevitably unpleasant. Nevertheless, our meeting in Aulla proceeds as planned and we walk the last 10km over the final hills and into Ponzano Superiore, yet another village teetering and spilling down the steep hillsides where Heiko has arranged 5-star accommodation for Nellie and a couch in his home for us. We, and more importantly our animals, are going to have a 3-day rest before the return journey to Arles along the Italian coast, tracing a new route that will link the St James Way to its counterpart in Italy, the via Francigena. Uncharted territory.

25.05.2010 Pontremoli to Villa Franca – 21km

Today we meet our first Austrian pilgrim, Wolfgang, sitting on the side of the road and airing his feet. We exchange information and discover that he has started out from Pavia and is in his second week of travel and that he is using Eurovia guides that list a religious hostel near Villafranca I know nothing about. I take details and we move on, only to meet him minutes later because we have been stopped by a fallen tree
across the track. We have no alternative but to take the SS road up to Filleta and ultimately Villa Franca.

We meet Wolfgang again outside the hostel where he is waiting for someone to arrive, so we decide to tether Nellie and sit down and wait with him - only to discover that it has stopped taking pilgrims. Now our only option is to try the camping site, even though Wolfgang has no tent and we have no idea if the camp-site will accept horses. A doubtful situation that is finally positive – Nellie is given a field to roam in and we give Wolfgang her rugs to sleep on.

Accommodation – rating – Good but at 25 euros for 3 people and one tent (cold showers too!) expensive.

24.05.2010 Tugo to Pontremoli – 25km

Hot, Paul and I have tanned another shade darker, but no complaints. Today our route takes us along the tops of the mountains looking down on the descending Cisa Pass and villages along the way. The views are vast, infinite, almost entirely of forest covered mountains and one very small, surviving patch of snow. The signing is good too because we are basically following Club Alpini routes, some of which have been adopted by the VF, but unfortunately this is also another occasion where the absurdity of the offical signing system is all too obvious. In the past Club Alpini has provided additional signs for the VF, but in their own red and white colour scheme – easy to follow and regular - but now we have the expensive, difficult to maintain official signs too, alongside, literally, the original ones!

Club Alpini routes are designed for keen, fit walkers, and are always tough – today's are no exception. Nevertheless, Nellie tackles every challenge thrown in front of her and it is only after our midday break (idyllic field by a fast-flowing river that we ford subsequently) when the official route launches into a series of pointless detours to avoid a quiet, very minor road, that I call a halt. She is tired, showing signs of rubbing from her pack and sweating heavily.

In Pontremoli we discover a far more attractive town than we remembered. In our search for the hostel, we discover the old town, its castle, churches and ridiculously narrow streets where you can literally touch both sides with outstretched arms. The town is named after its trembling bridge, but we walked over it and felt nothing. There are in fact three other similarly old bridges over the river ? Each of which adds to the charm of the place. The architecture is a mixture of Romanesque and other that I haven't the knowledge to identify, but ultimately it is the colours I notice more – stone tones alongside yellows and reds that change with the position of the sun.

The hostel on via Cappucini, just above the railway station, and on the edge of town, is currently being redeveloped and will be an immense complex for pilgrims and seminaries etc. The extensive gardens above it are already planted and will be a welcome retreat in the heat of the summer. The welcome is warm too.

Accommodation – rating Good/PR – 10 euros – horses accepted. Casa Padre Pio da Pietrelcina, 2 via Cappucini 54027 PONTREMOLI 0039 (0)187 830395

23.05.2010 Cassio to Tugo a few kms beyond Berceto 18km

Another excellent day, climbing alongside and sometimes on the Cisa pass, only marred by the incessant roar and whine (depending on the engine) of motorbikes. Anyone who has a motorbike brings it here. We hit 1000 metres without too much sweat or pain and threatening thunder clouds and noise come to nothing. I cannot think of anything I would rather be doing at the moment, particularly because all of us have reached a level of fitness that makes everything we do so much easier. Even Nellie's 'puff-pauses' are only taken as a matter of principle rather than need.

Accommodation – rating good/PR – only problem is that reaching it requires some doubling back, though the sign posting is excellent. Good value. Horses accepted. Ostello via Francigena,
Via Nazionale, 112
località Cassio
43040 Terenzo (PR)

tel +39 0525526110

22.05.2010 Fornovo di Taro to Cassio 22km

Again, wonderful walking, climbing and weather. When it is this good I always expect a 'sting in the tail' and am rarely disappointed. This time I am the cause. We have walked well, climbing, but never too painfully and negotiating some of the off-road routes that we had rejected with our bikes in 2007. Midday, we stop for a sandwich and then proceed to Terenzo, a small village perched on one of the hillsides, where a man comes out of his garden to ask where we are going. It turns out that he is a guide writer too and wants to know more about us. I look for Paul's wallet to give him one of our business cards and the sting hits its target. I have left the wallet in the Ladies toilet of the bar where we stopped for lunch, some 4kms back. Paul insists on returning, I wait, and finally some 30 minutes later he is back, faster because he has been given a lift by the bar owner. And so we move on, Nellie and I stopping often, she to eat and I to take photos of the new flowers I keep discovering and finally Cassio – a small, typical village on the Cisa pass – incredible views.

Accommodation – a basic hostel, presumably state run, good value at 7 euros. Horses accepted.

Ostello di Cassio, via Nazionale, loc. Cassio - CASSIO 0039 (0)525 64521

21.05.2010 Siccomonti to Fornovo di Taro 25km

Back in the hills and enjoying every minute. Some climbing, but infinite variation and without the sometimes daunting height and cragginess of the Alps we crossed in France. Alongside Tuscany, this is probably my favourite region. We follow farm tracks through tiny villages where the stone-built houses cluster round narrow cobbled streets and, better still, are occupied. Meanwhile, in the surrounding countryside every tractor seems to be turning hay in fields that rise and fall like solidified waves – a great deal more attractive than the blasted wastes of tomato land. Everything seems to be alive and making a vocal contribution to the world and, best of all, the sun is still shining. We make excellent progress and everything continues to be perfect until we reach Fornovo bridge. We have done this on our bikes before and so know what to expect. As an alternative we look at the river Taro and consider fording it, emminently possible and preferable in summer, but not after the recent storms. We grit our teeth and head into the traffic – Nellie lowering her head for the onslaught before we have even got there.

After the bridge and a few hundred metres of urban chaos, we are in Fornovo old town where the nearby motorway and everything else that comes with it are quickly forgotten. We make our way up cobbled streets towards the Duomo where there is a religious hostel and our second customer! Patrick (on a gap year) has last year's edition, the latest you could buy before this April (given to him as a Christmas present by his parents) and has walked from Canterbury. Hard to describe the thrill of meeting people who have used our guide, particulary when they are pleased with it. We spend the rest of the evening together chewing the proverbial pilgrim cud and getting the details on the recent English elections – incredible (and, I think/hope an improvement).

Accommodation – rating good/PR – very basic, but adequate. Horses accepted. Donation. Il Duomo, via 20 Settembre 43045 FORNOVO DI TARO 0039 (0)525 2218

20.05.2010 Fidenza

No early starts today. Leisurely breakfast, slow trawl through various, not too arduous chores – washing, emails, blogging, checking Nellie's legs, cleaning kit, then a gentle mooch back into Fidenza, where we hope to meet Carla Cropera, Secretary General of the ASSOCIAZIONE EUROPEA DELLE VIE FRANCIGENA. No chance. We always knew that pilgrims have a small voice with regard to the via Francigena, but at her level, we have none at all. One wonders who the VF was created for in Italy (in spite of its grandiose name the AEVF in fact only represents the VF in Italy). No, on the contrary, we know who it was created for – the commiteees, events organisers and the people who attend them – invitee lists that do not include pilgrims. Our meeting with Irene Amadei and her staff is useful, informative and in some ways encouraging, if only because it confirms a number of our suspicions. The VF project is still choked by administrative red tape. The lamentable state of the signing is unlikely to change in the near future, meaning that pilgrims will still have to rely on one guide book or another to see them through Italy (we estimate that only 10% of the junctions are signed on the section we have currently verified). But more positively, the VF route from Montgenevre has been officially recognised as a VF variant, as have a number of others. Equally, the excellent work carried out by the enthusiastic signers in that area has been recognised by Irene and others. A small step in the right direction.

When we get back, Nellie is sprawled out in the sun and we do not have a great deal to do, other than get our freshy washed sleeping bags back on the beds and watch a red sunset follow its course. This is the life!

19.05.2010 Fiorenzuola d'Arda to Fidenza 30km

Morning and Gabriele is waiting for us with more gifts – flowers for Nellie and I (half of which she immediately eats and the other half I stick in her headcollar – she is not impressed), books and some breakfast biscuits. Then he announces that he will walk the first kilometre with us, after we have had coffee and a croissant with him. He refuses to let us pay. In fact he walks the first 3kms with us and then gives Paul a guided tour of the chapel Charevelle while I hold Nellie – a really positive addition because without him we would have walked on by. Then he takes his leave and we say all the things that people say when they are trying to say goodbye and thank you in a way that sounds sincere – someone should create a new vocabulary. Then it's more tomatoes, more small country roads, more walking, but also more sun and the Appenines getting closer, at last producing a positive shape to the horizon. I am almost looking forward to climbing again. Meanwhile, Flea has found out that Nellie can provide a more comfortable ride than Paul's rucksack and rides regularly, until she is spooked by a dog and he is left dangling from the lead we had attached him to. It takes some coaxing to get him back, but by the time we reach Fidenza he is spark out on the top of her pack.

Reaching Fidenza is less simple. Just when we have it in our sights, with only a couple of kilometres to go, the directions tell us to cross a ford where the bridge has been swept away and the recent floods have produced enough water to fill every available space. Fine if you are a fish or have wings, not so good for pilgrims with a horse. Nevertheless, we find an alternative route, one that will also serve other people following us and finding themselves in the same situation, but it adds a few kilometres.

Fidenza is probably our second favourite town after Pavia. Open-aspected with wide streets designed for cyclists and pedestrians and a large central square that invites people in. The kind of place where you can draw a deep breath and let your heart rate slow. The buildings, churches and other, are large, solid, in the main old redbrick and spanning at least 3 centuries. Paul and I spent a number of days here last time (looking for a bike part) and loved it. We also plan an extra day this time, but primarily because we hope to have a meeting with Carla Cropera of the AEVF. Today, we stop off to say hello to her secretary Irene and ask for help with regard to finding a place for us to stay. They try their best, but in the end can only recommend a religious hostel in Siccomonti, 7kms further down the VF route. Not such good news – we have all walked enough – but unexpectedly the perfect solution.

Though just outside Fidenza, Siccomonti is already in a different landscape – gently rolling hills, scattered with small woods and farms and NO TOMATOES. The extra kilometres are a pleasure to walk and when we finally reach Siccomonti church with its small refuge, we find ourselves in a pilgrim Shangri-la. Endless, hock high grass for the horse, a kitchen, beds, showers and a washing machine for the humans! I am probably more excited about this than anything else. Paul and I install Nellie and then ourselves – food, wine, bed.

18.05.2010 San Bonico to Fiorenzuola d'Arda 27km

The sun is still with us, Nellie has filled out on hay and flirted with the horses over the fence all night. The roads are good and in spite of the drab tomato culture around us we can see the grey outlines of the Appenines ahead (we will be going over the Cisa pass). Then we come to the ford. In summer the river Noure is probably nothing more than a trickle at this point, but fed by a succession of storms it is now deep and fast flowing. With only the main road and a long diversion as an alternative we decide that we have to get across it, if at all possible. Shoes and socks off, I do a trial run and find that a large section is filled by stones and debris that we can walk over, but in between there are three, unavoidable channels. Two are reasonably shallow and slow-running, the third is over the knees and with a current that I can barely stand in by myself, but could probably manage with Nellie's support – if she gives it. We decide to try. Paul carrying Flea and standing upcurrent from Nellie, so that he can lean on her, and me leading with a hand in her mane to cling onto if I lose my footing. Well, I'm writing now, so it worked. Nellie pausing briefly in the strong current, but more to check out the challenge than anything else. Paul using her as his block and me holding on and hoping for the best. Later, we cross two more rivers, but they are puddles by comparison and we are professionals by now.

Then we reach Fiorenzuola d'Arda. Our intention is to go to a religious hostel and see what they can do for us, but we are stopped on the way. People ask us if they can take our photo all the time, so when Gabriele cycles up behind and stops us we think nothing of it. We listen politely when he tells us about his involvement with various societies, one of which is involved with horses, and agree to wait while he goes to get his camera. When he comes back he has his camera, copies of a book about the town and history for us and for the mayor of Arles (he writes a special message for the latter), flowers for me and a series of postcards that he asks us to send back to him when we can. Then we pose for the photos and put ourselves in his charge. He knows the priest, he will ask if there is room for the horse and us in the hostel. Actually, he seems to know everyone, and our arrival is broadcast across the town before we have even properly entered it. We must be the most photographed pilgrims on the route. At the hostel, where we find out that 25 children from under-priviledged families are fed every night and are currently eating, we are given a film star welcome. Everyone comes out, children and adults, to see Nellie, their first equine pilgrim. She walks calmly through a 5-a-side football game and basks in the glory. Flea behaves, but finally snaps at a child when he has had enough. We are given a patch of garden for Nellie and a bedroom for ourselves and the dog that the priest agrees not to see. Payment is refused (but we give it anyway to support their excellent work ). Once again an overwhelming experience, that still has not ended. I am just getting out of the shower when Gabriele comes back – large shopping bag in one hand. Wine, biscuits, sweets, carrots for Nellie and meat for Flea. «The supermarkets are shut tomorrow.» He tells me, even though it is a weekday.

Later, another pilgrim joins us in the hostel. An Italian, 60 plus years of age, exhausted. He has just walked over 50kms and plans to walk another 40 the next day. I'd like to ask him why, but am not sure I will like the answer.

Accommodation: Rating – excellent/PR – dormitory – 5 euros a night. Horses accepted. Presso il Duomo, don Gianni Vincini 0523 98 22 47

17.05.2010 Sopraviva to San Bonico 25km

Orfeo can't get a car so Danilo drives us to his house – we drink coffee, meet his wife for the first time, remember his time with us in Arles and then try to work out a way of finding a place for Nellie, so that he can drive out to us later and bring us back for supper, shower and bed with his family. The generosity is endless and impossible to thank without repetition (in the evening when I call to say that we have found a place to stay and that it is really too late to come out, he says that if we don't visit him soon he will come back to Arles and visit us there. A welcome threat).

So after all that it's eleven o'clock, a late start, but who cares? Danilo and Gracia make it even harder to leave. He has made us sandwiches and Gracia has collected an enormous bag of bread for Nellie. Not sure who cries first, but we are all mildly damp when we finally part. The animals are not keen to go either, Flea (now at least a kilo heavier – we have had to loosen his harness) ducking back before we notice, meaning that Paul has to return to collect him, Nellie stopping every tenth step, but eventually we get going and the going is good. We are skirting Piacenza, because we have already been through it with a horse and know how difficult it is. Danilo has given us instructions that generally keep us on small roads, but still, unavoidably, involve crossing the Po over a bridge that serves a national route. Nellie bears it well, but lorries skimming past us within centimetres, while simultaneously letting off their air brakes, are simply more than one could expect any horse or person to tolerate. We get through, but will only recommend it with huge warning signs. Next, more small roads and one of so many encounters that could only happen to a pilgrim. A man slows down to ask where we are going etc (this must happen at least 10 times a day), we tell him and he wishes us well and drives off. Half an hour later he is back - «I have hay for the horse, I went to collect it from a friend who also has horses. Have you anywhere to put it?» The answer is no, but we cannot refuse, so we empty one of our large plastic holders, tip everything loose into one of Nellie's packs, fill the bag with hay and tie it on behind everything else – now we really do look like gypsies, but he is pleased as Nellie will be too, later. We thank him effusively, but start to get nervous when he puts his hand in his pocket, obviously searching for change. «No, please don't.»
«Donate this for me in St Peter's Square.»
We haven't the heart, or the courage to say that we won't be going there, but one way or another we will do as he asks, probably through Chris O'Grady, if we manage to meet up. If not, it will go towards Anne-Marie's project. Later, a large van, a mobile shop, pulls up to ask the usual questions and compliment Nellie. In return, Paul asks if we can buy a bottle of Coke. We are given one, payment refused.

Since leaving Danilo we have moved into a new landscape, shaped (as is so often the case) by the agriculture. Italy is a network of monocultures – fruit trees, rice, kiwis, hazelnuts and here tomatoes, where every metre of spare ground is ploughed and prepared for the seedlings we see being planted now – 4 people seated in a row, towed by a tractor and extracting the seedlings from a revolving drum – hell of a job. Hardly a tree or a bush has been left standing and in a country where the people are so open every property is marked Privado Divieto de Accesso, even the abandoned farm buildings. A monotonous, featureless section of our journey where it is impossible to find a secluded place to camp in. By the time we get to San Bonico, everyone is tired and are only hope is a church in the middle of the village. We are heading there when Paul realises that he has left his rucksack (passports, everything in it) about 3km back in another village where we had stopped to get Nellie a drink. We decide that he should go back while I find somewhere to stay. Not long after, when I am almost at the point of despair, a woman comes out of a farm to ask if her daughter can stroke Nellie – I'm am not going to miss this opportunity. In brief - I explain the situation, she phones her husband, her husband phones a man who has horses just a kilometre away and we are installed! Nellie has a paddock and we have a space in front of it for our tent. While we are waiting for Paul, the owner, a man of about 70, tells me about his farm and finally shows me the empty cow stalls, immense hangars that must have housed hundreds of the beasts, plus two huge, bourgeois houses that are now standing empty. «A disaster,» he says sadly «Impossible to get anyone to work for me.» His eyes are full. «But I kept my horses.» The fact that I will be gone tomorrow probably makes it easier for him to confide in me, another feature of being a pilgrim.

16.05.2010 Soprariva

16.05.2010 Soprariva
Showers, clean clothes (washing-machine clean clothes - even Nellie's rug has been washed on Gracia's insistence) food, food and more food with Samuel and his family and friends, an idyllic location on the banks of the Po, sunshine and no walking. Just what we all need. Nellie has eaten her way through numerous cropped circles along the dyke, Flea has eaten pasta and pork chops with Danilo's dog and we have eaten more in this one day than in the ten before. Paul has also helped Danilo bring in six cycling pilgrims ashore after crossing the Po on his boat – not an easy task at the moment because his usual landing stage is a metre under water. By the evening we are content and probably fit enough to get going again tomorrow, but it will be a late start. Orfeo, who stayed with us in Arles while on his way walking to Santiago, and lives nearby, is coming to see us before we leave.

Accommodation – Danilo has a hostel and usually works on a donation basis though he will charge for the meal. However, due to subsidence caused by the Po river and a high water table, he may not be able to receive pilgrims all of the time. Advice is to phone first. Caupono Sigerico, via Soprarivo 270227 SOPRARIVA (05) 23 77 16 07 homoviator@alice.it

15.05.2010 A wood near St Giacomo – to Soprariva 40km

This morning all I can remember of the day before is walking, walking, walking and grey skies. There were other parts too, I am sure. Glimpses of the Po rampaging in places it had no right to be, lunch in a bar with Nellie tied up in a parking space and a policeman giving a ticket to a car next to her, some villages that may have been better than others, but in essence our intention was to cover the kilometres for two principle reasons:
1.We wanted to be with our very good friend Danilo Parisi (Po Ferryman) and his wife, Gracia, for Sunday lunchtime, at the very latest, when Samuel and his family (also a good friend and part of Danilo's pilgrim group, Homoviator) would be there. We had already missed the day when a film company from the UK had been there to film Danilo (we had recommended him to the film company), but Samuel had phoned us while we were travelling to see if we could possibly make this second date. We had to and the best way was to get there the night before.
2.We had nowhere to stay, other than outside in the tent again, but after the previous night and so many others before, the prospect of yet another wetting was just one painful step too far.
So we took a thousand more steps, painful too, but with a positive goal. Nellie, plodded on without complaint, I plodded on less silently while Paul kept his eyes glued to the GPS with occasional references to crow-flying distances that he hoped would raise my spirits. Suffice to say that after this experience I will throttle the first crow I can get my hands on.

But we arrive, finally, at 21.00 after a 7.30 start, and Danilo is there, cooking for hundreds of people (he also a restaurant on the banks of the Po) but with time to welcome us with open arms and plates and plates of food, accompanied by wine. We almost feel human again, and if it wasn't for my right foot that has ballooned to the size of a pumpkin, Paul's back ache and a suspicious/worrying lump on Nellie's back (I suspect pressure from her rug) I would say that we had survived the experience unscathed.

14.05.2010 Gropello Cairoli to a wood near St Giacomo – 32km

Small roads, small villages, a long section along the dykes lining the Ticino, a tributary of the Po, massively swollen by the recent rains, lunch in a bar on its banks and then Pavia, never a disappointment, but always a place we wish we had more time to explore. Our entry to the town is over the Ponte Vecchia, an ancient covered bridge that slices our view of the town into framed sections as we pass over, and then into the centre and along a number of quiet streets where people stop to ask where we are going etc. «Bellisimo, complimenti» is a comment we hear often. Pavia is possibly our favourite town, memorable for its architectural features, open piazzas and relatively tranquil atmosphere. Our visit also includes the obligatory ice-cream stop, always our first in Italy and always the best, then we have to head out into the industrial suburbs where everything unattractive but necessary is relegated. Our intention is to reach St Giacomo, where there is an equestrian centre we once stayed in with Lubie (though we are not intending to ask again this time because we sense that our previous welcome had only been because the owners themselves had been away), until the threatening thunder, grumbling over our heads for the past hour, finally decides to go for bust. We are drenched in seconds and have only one alternative – get off the road, get the tent up and get in.

13.05.2010 Mortara to Gropello Cairoli - 35km

Morning, more photos of us for Tino, breakfast, sunshine, everything good, except our feet. We have been walking in water for the past week, our shoes our sodden and we have trench foot, or something similar. Anyway, they hurt and our progress is painful, but the going is easy, more canals, more green fields, more good instructions and more back-patting. Then we walk into Tremello and our old friend Gian Carlo. «Cavallo!» We hear him from behind and then suddenly he is there in front, a tiny spider of a man, throwing himself first at Paul and then me.

Gian Carlo has traced and signed a section of the VF in the region of Tremello to Madonna de Bozzolo, perhaps 15km that he maintains and surveys for pilgrims. We met him in 2007 on the route and then spent some time with him in Tremello, admiring the frescoes he is restoring in the church there (he still has the photos I sent). Now we are back and nothing has really changed, except for the bike (a new model) he uses to go up and down the VF. He is still restoring frescoes, still welcoming pilgrims and still pleased to see us. We share a beer, check the details for the local hostel in our guide book and then say our goodbyes.

Next encounter, Brother Cesaré in Madonna del Bozzola (Italiano numero uno – he told us the first time we met). Again we have stayed there with Lubie and our bikes and are recognised as soon as we stick our heads round the Bar de Santuario, where Brother Cesaré is the barman – how many barman have you seen with a crucifix round his neck. He has changed little, except for adding some more weight to the weight he had added to the last time we saw him. Once again, he refuses to let us pay for our drinks, insisting that our visit is a gift – difficult to find an answer to that one. So we drink, talk, wait for yet another storm to pass over, and then we go on and on and on – hours more of walking on feet that should be hospitalised – until we find the Agriturismo where Nellie can have a night in a paddock and we can sleep in proper beds and use someone else's towels – a point appreciated only by people who have travelled for at least 4 weeks, slept outside and washed themselves and their clothes in streams resembling pea soup.

Accommodation - rating: good Agriturismo Sant' Andrea, viale Zanotti
27027 Gropello Cairoli raffaellamoroni@virgilio.it 0382 1862762 0382 1862761 348 4523005 http://www.agriturismo-santandrea.it