15.06.2010 Col de Melogno to Bardinetto 15km

Before we leave, our host takes us to see his own Merens gelding, the first time we have been able to directly compare Nellie with another of her own breed. He is larger and stockier, though with a finer head. They meet nose to nose and go through the usual equine introduction procedure - invariably noisy and raucous - but for us the most interesting aspect is that in addition to sharing all the physical features of their breed, the gelding also displays many of the less pleasant behavioural traits: principally the bullying, pushy and rough behaviour that I can best describe as 'impolite'. I dislike 'impolite' horses and during our time with Nellie we have managed to teach her some manners, which makes our relationship a great deal more pleasant.

The weather forecast is correct, for the first time since we have been in Italy. It is raining, only finely when we start out, but in buckets within ten minutes of leaving our hostel. Has someone forgotten that June in Italy is supposed to be hot, scorchio, hot? The rain is hammering down, even through the thick canopy of leaves in the forest, hiding what we know must be a dramatic landscape but we are beyond caring and can only slosh on in the hope that the agriturismo in Bardinetto will take us. It does, in fact it is already expecting us because Heidi's husband has phoned ahead – perhaps there is a god, perhaps he is called Mr Heidi. We are offered a self-contained apartment, heated and with an open fire – yes there is a god and I don't give a damn what his name is. Meanwhile Nellie is offered a stable or a tether point in a nearby carpark. We would love to offer her the dry warmth, if only for our own consciences, but know that it is a waste of time because she will refuse to go in. So we tether her outside and, predictably, she is head down and mowing the patch as I write.

Accommodation – Agriturismo Fratelli Oddone - Rating: Excellent/PR – well equipped apartment, inc washing machine! Good value at 60 euros, with breakfast, and 20 euros per person for an excellent meal – probably one of the best we have had since arriving in Italy. Agriturismo Fratelli Oddone - Via Martino, 13 17057 Bardineto
Tel: 019-7907115 - Cell: 328-6423895 - Fax: 019-7907115

13.06.2010 Stella san Giovanni to Altera 32km TOTAL 1464

The unpredictable weather is something to watch out for and to warn our walkers about. After a day in broad sunshine, we wake to dense fog and rain that makes any kind of mountain walking dangerous. We decide to look for a new route that will take us down to the coast on small tracks and roads and in fact succeed in creating a pleasant alternative.

Accommodation – Agriturismo – details irrelevant for reasons explained below.

Closer examination of a new map reveals that there is no viable or preferable route to the Via della Costa from Altera – we will have to get back onto the Alta Via. We spend the best part of 3 hours doing so and are rewarded with wide and relatively easy tracks to follow. This is good walking and an introduction to yet more variable landscape away from the thickly forested areas. We make good progress and finally enter Altera where we had hoped to find somewhere to stay, but enquiries at a bar reveal that there are no hostels, albergi or agriturismos in the area. Altera is a dying town, its industries failing and its inhabitants apparently spending a lot of their time in bars – fortunately for us because Nellie attracts the inevitable attention and one man, Emmanuel, hears that we are looking for somewhere to stay. He offers to take Paul in his car to a picnic area nearby, which might be suitable. In fact it is ideal and we quickly install ourselves, attracting even more attention from the families and their children who are spending their Sunday afternoon there – not one of them objecting to our tent in spite of the large sign informing us that camping is prohibited. We have been there no more than half an hour when Emmanuel appears again, but this time carrying a bottle of wine and pan of freshly cooked pasta! Another example of the Italian generosity we have enjoyed so often before. Maybe it is the spectacle of pack horse and dog that interests and reassures people so that they feel they can approach us, or maybe it is simply curiosity about what it is the two old farts are up to, but it never fails to open doors and hands. Emmanuel eats and drinks with us for as long as he can but finally leaves because he has to get back to his wife and baby daughter.

10.06.2010 somewhere on the Alta Via – La Cappaleta di Masoni 27km

Nellie's nose is back to its normal size and I suspect a sting was the cause for its previous ballooning, so onwards and upwards on more tracks that this time take us into new terrain. Suddenly the forests have withdrawn and we are walking on open hillsides where the views stretch to every horizon and we can see our route for hours ahead. This is my kind of countryside, having spent my childhood riding on open moorland on the edge of Wales, I am in a landscape I can understand and appreciate. Paul responds indulgently when I take theatrical deep breaths, but I think/hope he can sense some of what I am feeling. Nellie, as much from the mountains as I am, picks up pace too and we cover distances easily, even when the ascents and descents are severe. When I am asked again if she is a mule (it happens almost everyday) I do not take offence on her behalf because I have come to realise she has all the best attributes of her cousin – surefooted, immensely strong and well balanced. My confidence in her abilities grows with every challenge we set her. Today, when faced with a vertical rock of at least a metre high, she skips up it effortlessly from a standstill and with her packs on.

In the evening we pull in at the first village we have been through all day, and that only by taking a kilometre detour, to see if there is any chance of buying food and possibly finding a place to stay, but there is no shop, the bar/restaurant is not serving food and the only accommodation is a rough sports field that Paul has managed to negotiate with a woman standing outside the church.

08/09.06.2010 Creto to somewhere on the Alta Via 20km

Bad weather has enforced the break, but no one is complaining because we had already been considering the need to take a day out. We are about to embark on 2 or maybe 3 days on the Alta Via in the wilderness. No towns, no stop-off points, just a (hopefully well-signed) path, insufficient maps and our tent. We need to stock up and be sure we have everything we need in case of bad weather, bad paths etc etc. Overnight, the mist turns to rain and everything is soaked outside. We sleep until 9.00, so we must have been even more tired than we thought. Paul elects to go into town, while I stay to look after Nellie, try to dry our kit and update the blog, so here I am, in the sunshine, the mist having cleared at last.

Accommodation – Good/PR everything a camper needs at a reasonable price – 15 euros per person, with a bar/restaurant nearby – horses accepted

09.06.2010 Creto to somewhere on the Alta Via 20kmThe good news – the wilderness is not as wild as we had expected, we have in fact gone through a couple of communities where a beer and a sandwich are available. More good news – stretches of the route are outstanding – views over Genoa and beyond where all the hyperbolic adverbs relating to cloud behaviour should be used and overused. We are walking on top of the world, in and above clouds that engulf peaks and pour into valleys, on tracks that barely break the rocky surface below. I think of the partisans and the impossibilty of finding them in landscape like this – much like Afghanistan today. The bad news is that a large proportion of the tracks run through forests and consist almost entirely of broken stone, making tiring walking for us and Nellie. Nevertheless a good route for walkers. In the evening we find a grassy space off the track and pitch our tent. It seems ideal for all of us and we sleep with clear consciences that Nellie has enough to eat.

Nellie has other ideas. I wake, as I usually do, with the thought that I should check on her, but when I look out she is not there. Paul and I search up and down the road, but initially find nothing, until I say we need to go further back the way we have come – horses instinctively retrace their steps – and sure enough we find her munching her way round a grassy picnic area that had no doubt struck a gastronomic chord when we passed by earlier. She does not object to coming back with us, but when I check her over I see that her lips and nose are drastically swollen. A hundred possible pessimistic diagnoses come to mind, but none of them seems credible. If the swelling is due to an allergic reaction, it would have spread further than her mouth and I would have expected to see some other signs – difficulty breathing etc – but Nellie is apparently unaware of the swelling and happy to go on eating, so I decide to check on her at intervals to see if there is any change and only succeed in waking when her when she was just about to lie down and go to sleep.

07.06.2010 Traso to Creto 23km total 1335

Tough, but again a real sense of travelling the ancient routes – we speak about projects to research their history and ensure their maintenance. By the afternoon we are too tired to tackle more unpredictable, but also predictably tough routes and opt for the winding road route up to Creto – probably also a sensible option for our future walkers. We are looking for a bed and breakfast that we have been told is there, but instead stumble on a campsite with a helpful owner who offers Nellie a perfect pitch at the end of the site – meanwhile the sun has disappeared and the cloud has come down.

Accommodation - rating: good camping villa masnata, 117, VIA DI CRETO 16165 Genova (GE) tel: 010 8301879

06.06.2010 Recco to Traso 27km

There is a god! On our way out of Recco, while we are negotiating a flight of steps – yet another – Nellie now a mule step expert – we meet a man who asks where we are going and tells us about a series of good paths leading to the Alta Via de Monto Liguri that will enable us to ride along the top of ridges and avoid Genoa!! We follow his advice and discover winding roads through Sunday communities - where the churches are full and families gather in large groups – and finally find ourselves on the old contraband roads, rough-paved, tough climbing, but strongly evocative of the time – infinitely more so than the majority of the via Francigena where sections of Roman road are either buried or over-exposed. We hope that by tracing these contraband routes for our LightFoot walkers we will also support the valiant work of the enthusiasts who have signed them so that they will not be entirely forgotten.

Finally, the proverbial problem – a place to stay. As always, any flat, green space is either fenced or cultivated or both so we finally resort to the back of a church. The priest is either absent or non-existent, so we pitch camp and hope for the best. In the end we are discovered but not turned out.

05.06.2010 San Pietro di Rivereto to Recco 28km - Paradise lost paradise cost

Start out on small roads that lead up and down and finally descend into hell – the inverse of the quiet resorts we have been through before. Here, every driver is intent on getting somewhere before everyone else, on a road designed for one tenth of the traffic using it. And we, two humans, a dog and a horse, have to find our own space. By late afternoon, Nellie and I are too tired and stressed to take another step, so Paul starts to look for accommodation in Camogli (a town on the ironically named Il Golfo Paradiso). Think about it – a place where there is no space and only tarmac – impossible. We are at our wits end and with no other alternative but to go onto the next town, Recco, which initially seems to be equally hopeless, until Paul spots an old football field. He should be rechristianed Il Maestro. Guessing that it is probably linked to the nearby church he locates the priest and is given the key. So now Nellie is fine, but there is still nothing for us. We try every hotel we can (at 150 euros a night) but they are all full, so we call a taxi and go back to an albergo in Camogli where the owner had tried to help us before. All good, until we try to get something to eat. Every restaurant on the beach front is full, outrageously expensive and outrageously served. If this is paradise, I'll just keep on sinning and aim for hell – it can't be any worse. Finally, having found a better served, but equally expensive restaurant in the interior of the resort, we drink a very small amount of wine and decide that we cannot recommend the road approach to Genoa for pilgrims/walkers and that we will have to go inland. Nellie would have breathed a sigh of relief if she had known.

04.06.2010 Riva to San Pietro di Rivereto 25km

Evelyn takes the bus back to collect her car and we launch ourselves up and over Rocce de Sante Anna with its ruined chapel at summit. After this we have a long walk along the beach, feeling slightly out of place against the bathers in bikinis, but take time out to have an ice cream and attract the inevitable crowds of people who want to know where we have come from, where we are going, the name of our horse and dog and why are walking. Next, an unavoidable slog back up hill and on a busy road – boring and unpleasant, but broken by one good surprise – Evelyn, on her way home. She stops and waits for us while we see if the Sanctuaro Maddonna del Grazie will offer us sanctuary – it will not – so much for Christian good will. Then another parting from Evelyn and we are back on our way, negotiating a route along small roads above the coast - pleasant, but like everywhere else here, on the side of the hill, with not a single flat corner for a horse. We are getting desperate by the time we see two women come out of a church and grab the only opportunity we have been offered so far. I ask if it would be possible to speak to the priest to see if he would let us use camp on a space behind the church. They think not, but one offers her own garden instead – a meeting that leads us up to summit of the hill where two elderly sisters and their even more elderly brother live in a house with a view only seen in multi-million dollar films. Literally a dream come true. Nellie's space on tne top terrace is little more than 10 metres square of flat ground (already more than most people have), reduced by the square metre taken by our tent, and some others by olive trees and the flowers, but she has the grace to tiptoe through the gate and down the narrow path, as do we. It is one of the least comfortable and most difficult nights we have experienced, but also one of the most memorable. The garden is a series of carefully tended terraces, each cultivated to a specific purpose (food or aesthetics) with the colours appearing to blend accidentally, though I am sure by careful design. Our hosts serve us lentil soup and cherries from the garden, the brother (whose name seems to change everytime we ask him) takes photos and observes us quietly from his stone seat above us, seeming to take infinite pleasure in everything Nellie does. When we leave in the morning, they give us two lemons and thank us for staying.

03.06.2010 Moneglia to Riva 12km

In the morning the female half of the hotel is less sanguine. She tells us that there is a risk that the police will be called and we have to clear every sign of Nellie's presence, which means sweeping the grass with something finer than a nit comb.

Next, another day of tough climbing, but also magnificent views over the bays and promonteries of the Cinque Terre – an excellent route for keen walkers, but hell for equines. Nellie deals with everything in her path, though on one occasion when it looks as if yet another fallen tree is finally going to halt our progress She senses my nervousness and briefly refuses to cooperate. We mess around with various solutions, including trying to build a ramp, but in the end she skips over it effortlessly and makes my concerns seem completely ridiculous.

By the end of the day the heat and the heights are finally getting to all of us so we find a home for Nellie in an equestrian centre (whose owner makes our adventures seem paltry – he rode round Europe for 2 years and round Chile - when just a child - with his father) and, after some searching, a hotel near to the beach in Riva. Once again, we have discovered the quiet sophistication of these Italian beachside towns – I could stay here for weeks. We have our 'last supper' with Evelyn, over-indulge in everything we can and then sleep, sleep, sleep.

02.06.2010 Costa near Framura to Moneglia 12Km

Breakfast with Paula and her husband Jonnie and then a tough introduction to our daily routine for Evelyn. We are climbing up and down the mountains of the Cinque Terre, not a square centimetre of flat ground and only narrow, stony tracks to walk along. Nellie deals with them stoically and far more calmly than I do, while Evelyn and Paul do their best to support the process – carrying packs when we have to remove them and clearing ground.

In the evening, we find a pleasant hotel for us and illegal space for Nellie in the garden of an unoccupied block of flats. The hotel owner is nervous but seems to be reassured when we say that it is our risk and not his, then we head off into the pleasantly low-key beach resort (something the Italians seem to do so well) for dinner.

>01.06.2010 Santa Madonna de Saviore – Costa near Framura 20km

Alberto delivers his promise. The routes are excellent, avoiding large roads and introducing us to an old rail tunnel (just under 5kms), now converted for cyclists and walkers, that takes out a huge climb. Nellie and Flea have a closer look at the sea when we walk along the edge of the beach and have lunch in a beach bar. Meanwhile, Alberto, whose day job is an international salesman for a line of women's clothing (that I should know, but don't), has become our PR man, announcing our arrival and explaining our presence to anyone who asks or is unwise enough to look in our direction. In the evening, when we arrive in Costa, he negotiates a place for us to stay in the hostel and a woman, who has been quietly watching the whole process, finally steps forward and offers a place for Nellie.

Paula lives at the bottom of the hill, reached like everywhere else by a flight of mule steps. When she asks if Nellie can cope I simply nod and hope for the best. This time I don't count, but it must have been at least half a kilometre in distance. Nellie is finally installed on one terrace of an olive grove and we are invited for breakfast the next day.

Next excitement – Evelyn's arrival. She has driven all the way from Arles to spend the next two day's walking with us and has all too obviously been infected by our madness. I am climbing back up the flight of stairs when I see her standing at the top with Paul and can't express the pleasure of seeing such a familiar face. A sense of Arles, which makes me realise that in spite of the excitement of being in a different place every day, I miss home and our friends.

Accommodation - rating: excellent Ostello Framaura, Loc. Costa,15 FRAMAURA 19014 +39 0187 810529 - +39 3336912079

30.05.2010 back of a church near La Spezia - 25km

After three days of rest, recuperation and replacement of various bits of equipment we are back on the road, with Heiko and Susan who want to walk the first few kilometres with us and show us a route they have recommended. As promised, the route is infinitely preferable to the long and winding road down from Ponzano Superiore, but Flea has other ideas. After 3 days of rest and mooching in the quiet alleyways, he has decided that he would rather stay there. We realise that he has disappeared just after seeing a wild boar and her offspring (piglets/boarlets??) cross the track. We immediately assume that Flea has been hunting them and possibly come off worse after a confrontation with the mother. We call and search but the woods are silent, then it occurs to me that we have not seen him for sometime. I suggest that Heiko and Susan return home while we keep searching. Not longer after we receive the call we are been hoping for. Flea is outside Heiko's door, concerned that no one else is there. H and S return with (sodding) dog and we continue the journey.

Next we discover that Italian maps are inventions of an approximate geographical reality of possibly pre-Mussolini era. Clearly printed roads turn out to be either nonexistant or tracks that end in a house. With no other alternative we wind and curse our way along unpleasant principal roads for about half the day, but finally manage, more by luck than topographical accuracy, to move off onto a series of pleasant tracks and roads, ultimately creating a reasonable route for walkers, but without reasonable accommodation. After a futile search we spot a church above us, accessible by a long flight of the mule stairs that have been appearing along with the increasingly frequent steep hillsides. I point Nellie at the first and leave her to deal with the rest. She does, without hesitation – all 150 of them. Then we find a space behind the church, check with the utterly disinterested priest if he has any objections – he doesn't – throw up the tent, tether Nellie next to us and then drink enough wine to send us to sleep, at least for the first two or three hours.