The Epic Ride Part VIII: England (again)

We rode from Newhaven across the coast a little way to Brighton where we decided to just head into town and hope we saw a sign leading us somewhere useful. We began following signs to the tourist office but when we got to a roundabout right near the water there was a camping sign so we followed that instead. The road up to the campsite was right along the water; ocean on one side, beautiful terrace homes and hotels along the other. Then we headed inland through some suburban streets and through a large parkland to the campsite. It was a massive campsite and a bit expensive but we paid our money to a lady at the front desk who looked like she had some major sunburn and then headed up towards the back where the tent sites were. First we went to the top terrace, but once we got up there all we could do was laugh; the lovely green grass unfortunately covered a slope so steep we were certain we’d wake up in the morning at the bottom of the hill. It was empty, not surprisingly. The next terrace had quite a few tents already and not much shade, but it looked better than the bottom terrace which didn’t even have any views. So we set up the tent as far away from others as we could and then decided we would walk into town since it was too warm to wear our riding gear.



The walk was probably longer than we anticipated but once we were onto the esplanade along the water it was very pretty. We walked along the beach a little but those English pebbles make for rather awkward walking so we used the footpath most of the time. We walked all the way to the famous Brighton pier, which was essentially a collection of fast food outlets and souvenir shops although there was also a couple of pubs and what I think was called the Fun Palace – basically somewhere that sucks your money up. We had a go on some pokies and try-to-catch-the-teddy-bear-with-the-claw but didn’t win anything. I was determined to have some proper English fish and chips but a lot of the places were already shut so we shared some Chinese noodles instead and then went back along the pier and ate some awful cheap fish and chips by the water. Not quite the experience I had imagined, even though the pier was a lot of fun. On the way back to the campsite we stopped at a Lidl to buy some supplies and then got back to our tent to find that we had been even more blocked in by three girls in a massive tent who stayed up half the night playing their iPod loudly and sharing philosophies like ‘once you go black you never go back’ with the rest of the site. Lovely. Brighton is party central so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. In fact I’d love to go back one day, not camping, with a proper outfit, and visit some of its famous clubs and do some Fatboy Slim spotting. It looked like there were some nice bars to explore.



In the morning we headed for Oxford, arriving in time for lunch and then Toby spent the afternoon cleaning the bike which was looking a little the worse for wear after so many weeks on the road. The plan was to spend the next few days recuperating at Margaret’s house, and also to sell the bike. We hadn’t managed to advertise it privately while we were away so it was up to the dealerships. Luckily there was a motorbike show room just down the road from Margaret’s, where Toby headed first thing the next morning. Unfortunately he was back within five minutes as the owner only wanted to stock Italian and Japanese bikes. We were on a BMW. I didn’t really understand the mentality behind that, but we put it past us and started hunting down other dealerships in the area. To make a long, frustrating and rather sad story short, we failed to sell the bike. No one wanted it (too big, too German) or if they did want it, they weren’t willing to pay what it was worth. In the end Toby decided to just sell it at a massive loss and then we discovered that we didn't have the correct paperwork. Of course we'd never realised this since we didn't know what paperwork we needed. A couple of phone calls later and there was no way we could get the forms in time, so we couldn't sell it at all. It was a very disappointing turn of events as the money for the bike was supposed to pay for the next leg of our trip. In the end, Margaret very generously agreed to loan out part of her garage and there the bike sits, awaiting the next adventure.



We had to organise another load for DHL to ship back to Australia, with the bike and camping gear we weren’t willing to throw out, and stock up on items for our trip to Singapore and Malaysia. And most of all, we had to rest. The bike dramas meant our stay in Oxford wasn’t as relaxing as it should have been, but there wasn’t much we could do about it so in the end we were on the bus to London, backpacks in tow. Toby decided to treat us to the same fancy hotel he’d stayed in in January, on his solo weekend away, so it was a surprise to me to see just how fancy it was. It really was lovely and in a nice spot near the university and library. We probably should have done some sightseeing, but we were still recovering from our camping adventure and so spent most of the next two days enjoying our nice hotel room. Toby’s friends Rob and Kim made the trip down to Edinburgh to say goodbye so they spent Saturday night out and about while I caught up with my friend Elle (who I’d gone to high school with and later met up with in Edinburgh) and some friends of hers, involving some yummy Thai food and drinks at a pub afterwards. They all carried on to a club but I was conscious of wanting to get the last tube back to the hotel so I left around midnight and managed to get a cab from the tube station since the one near our hotel was shut that weekend – a very frustrating thing as one of the reasons Toby liked the hotel was how close it was to the tube. The next morning we met up with Rob and Kim again to have brunch before they got the train back up north, and we did some shopping since I was determined to get the Lonely Planet for Singapore and Malaysia, as well as some other books to read. It was a pleasant few days and it was especially nice that we were able to spend some time with people who had made our time in Edinburgh that much better.


On the Monday, our tube station was open again – yay – especially as it was on the line that went right out to Heathrow. It was a long trip but when you are carrying those big backpacks the main thing is that you don’t have to carry them too far. Checking in was fairly uneventful and I don’t recall that we had to wait a very long time to get on the plane. And then we were on our way home, but with another fantastic 2 weeks to go.

The Epic Ride Part VII: France (again)

The next morning we left Freiburg and headed for Colmar, across the border in France. We decided to take the advice of the brochure from the tourist office, and instead of going the quick, obvious way we used a lot of nice windy secondary roads with fantastic views. The result of course was that it took us forever to get to France, even though we hadn’t covered much distance; it was worth it though to really appreciate the beautiful corner of the world in which we’d found ourselves. I remember very heavy traffic again and spending a fair bit of time stuck on a road outside an outdoor furniture shop; we started looking at all the nice tables and chairs and marquees and thinking soon we would be home with our house and able to have outdoor furniture again. Quite an odd thought after spending so much time standing up for all our meals. We spent the night in a lovely village called Ribeauville in the Alsace wine region, which of course we hadn’t known existed thanks to our awesome map. It was a large campsite where we managed to find a decent spot, even if we were overlooked by a building site. The most unusual thing about the site was the storks wandering around, I guess hoping for food from the exceedingly organised Dutch and German campervanners. The owners were lovely people who spoke perfect English; they had two kids who would run into the office at random intervals for hugs and little whispers in French. After we were set up, we walked into town in search of dinner, but unfortunately being a small town the supermarket and other shops were shut. We couldn’t really afford a restaurant; luckily there was a van in a carpark selling pizza! It looked like they were in a different town every night of the week – fantastic business idea in this part of the world. So we joined the queue and had pizzas for dinner sitting by our tent. Just lovely. The town was lovely too, with all the old French buildings and courtyards, but strangely enough it did have a rather unfriendly vibe. Strange characters hanging out in the public parks, hoons screaming around the little streets in their cars, and so on. Such a shame.

We were now on the home stretch towards our ferry in Dieppe, so the next day we left Ribeauville and headed towards the north coast, via some really lovely countryside through Alsace, only slightly wishing we had time for a winery tour. Neither of us can really remember where we got to; only that it was a long ride and the campsite at the end was remarkably lovely. We were almost the only ones there (except for an older German couple who played a sweet game of badminton outside their campervan before heading off for dinner) and enjoyed having the space to ourselves. It wasn’t as manicured as other sites; we actually had to move the tent to get it away from the bush and all the bugs. There was a big open space up the hill where we could chuck a Frisbee around (the same Frisbee we’d found on the Isle of Skye) and generally enjoy ourselves. There was an Aldi not far away so we could buy some dinner and other things; we ate sitting on the wall by the bush. It was a really nice place to spend the night (except for all the bugs).

The next day was the longest ride we’d had as we tried to get as close to Dieppe as we could. We got to Amiens and tried to find a non-existent tourist office; after that we tried to follow signs to a camping site which seemed to be taking us round and round in circles. We drove to nearby villages in search of camping sites that might be easier to find, to no avail. It was all getting very stressful and frustrating, well past 7pm at this point and we were certain we’d end up in an overpriced hotel. Somehow though we managed to find the campsite which was on the complete opposite side of town to where we’d started; I can’t remember if we ended up using the GPS or what. The campsite was very crowded (I think there was a big car race on at the time, as well as a ‘caravan club’ that had taken up lots of room) but there was an on-site takeaway AND a washing machine, so all was well. The office was closed and the manager was running the takeaway and the bar, so he was a little rushed and cranky with us for wanting to check in AND order dinner at such a late hour but we managed okay and even got some clean clothes. So the not-very-fun day ended on a reasonable note.

The next morning it was time to head for the coast, where we were hoping to spend our final few days in France enjoying some warm weather and relaxing rather than riding too far. We made it to St Valery which was a very picturesque seaside village overtaken by other riders and what looked to be a massive number of English tourists. The tourist office was closed for lunch so we spent some time walking along the waterfront and through the cobbled streets before joining the throngs in the office. Unfortunately there was no accommodation information to be had, but there was a tiny internet port where we sent off a couple of quick emails and lots of brochures about the area we were in, which is how we’d discovered we had spent the past few days travelling through the battlefields of the Somme without realising it. There was even a special brochure about Australians in the Somme and all the memorials and villages you could visit that had special significance for Australians. We were kicking ourselves at that point, having spent the past couple of days just roaring through the flat countryside when we could have taken our time and done some interesting exploring. This is why it pays to do your research beforehand. For future reference, if we were to do this ride again I believe we would have headed east from the ferry to St Valery, spent the night on the coast, picked up some information on the Somme, and then headed south. I think this would be a better use of time. But that is the joy of hindsight.
Since it didn’t look like there was much camping around St Valery we got back on the road and headed along the coast to le Treport, a larger town where we found a campsite almost immediately. Unfortunately it wasn’t a very nice campsite; our tent overlooked a carpark and apartment building. A far cry from the night we’d spent in the bush with only bugs and the Danish badminton players for company. The bathrooms were also strange; there was a door for men and a door for women but they both seemed to end up in the same area, with showers for women and none for men, and shared toilets. There was another door for men which led into a games room. We decided to only stay one night, and push further along the coast towards Dieppe the next day so we would be closer to the ferry.

Once we had the tent set up we wandered into town where there appeared to be a Sunday market set up along the esplanade. This was a great way to kill a few hours, eat some crepes, and generally enjoy the sea air. The beach wasn’t very pleasant; stereotypically Normandie with the rough white pebbles and grey-green water. The best thing we saw was a really cute family of ducks; on our way up to the market we saw them swimming in the harbour, with a small group of onlookers oohing and aahing at them. On the way home we saw them again, with the fluffy ducklings nestled into the reeds on the shore and the mum and dad ducks keeping an eye out for them. There were lots of places we could have had some dinner outside looking at the water, and there was a band starting up too but in the end we bought some groceries at a little supermarket on the way back up and ate our picnic dinner back at the tent.

The next day we drove along the coast to Dieppe and this time we went right into the town centre and parked in the shadow of a gigantic church. It was a prettier town than we had realised, coming into it as we did from the ferry port four weeks earlier. We went to the tourist office where we managed to catch them five minutes before their lunch break; the lady at the desk gave me a brochure of local accommodation and circled the nearby campsites for me. Hmmm, what a useful service. Perhaps they could offer this on the ferry on the way over, for those of us who haven’t managed to do any research? In any case we decided to head towards a campsite called Vitamin, because it sounded funny, and was pretty close to Dieppe without being too much in town. It was a quick drive from the town centre into the next village and was just off the highway. It was a nice campsite, with a friendly lady in the office, a pool, a playground, and an Aldi just down the road.

We got the tent set up and some groceries from Aldi, and then spent the afternoon lazing around the campsite. We had one full day left before we needed to get the ferry, so we did the same thing the next day as well. We swam in the pool, threw the Frisbee, and generally enjoyed the sunny weather while we could. And then it was time to leave, so we left our final French campsite and headed to the boat about lunchtime on the second day. This time we were more prepared and took food and ginger tablets for sea sickness; I also remembered to buy a paper in the shop before we boarded. We were old hands by this point. It was mid afternoon when we rode off the boat into Newhaven, only slightly worried about having to go back to riding on the left. We stopped at passport control where I had to remove my helmet even though Toby didn’t, and the lady annoyed me by asking lots of questions about my plans. I guess I was just tired and cranky. But our next stop was Brighton, home of Fatboy Slim and the famous pier, so the crankiness didn’t last much longer.

The Epic Ride Part VI: Germany

We entered Germany halfway through a tunnel that cut through a mountain; all of a sudden there was a sign on the wall with the EU symbol and a D underneath, and we were there. The Romantische Strasse begins not far from the border, just outside a town called Fussen, at the Neuschwanstein Castle. The Castle is better known as the Disney castle because it’s what Disney based their castle on. It was incredibly busy, being a beautiful Saturday afternoon but we managed to follow the signs and then get a park in a gigantic carpark. Toby changed his boots so he’d be more comfortable walking around and then we sat at an overpriced restaurant and ordered some lunch which we ate in the sun. At the table next to us was a young Australian woman with a baby and some Muslim women who I think were her sisters in law and perhaps a mother in law; she said hello to us later as she had recognised our accents. I noticed her particularly because her husband was on the outing but did not join the females at the table; he did however manage to get into some kind of altercation with an American man outside the restaurant later. A strange set of events.

After lunch we went to figure out how we could get up the hill to visit the castle; once we found the visitor’s centre we realised we were up for a fairly hefty entrance fee so instead we decided to just take the shuttle bus up the hill to get a closer look. We got a very crowded bus up the very steep, windy hill with me reminding myself that the driver did this all day and I was perfectly safe. I was really glad we went up though; the castles were very impressive and the views from the bridge were really magnificent. There was a rather strange story about how the castle was built by a Bavarian prince who decided he wanted a castle based on those from the Middle Ages, so he demolished the existing castle which was from the Middle Ages and built a prettier one. Such a modern outlook from the prince. It was a pretty cool excursion.


We got the bus down the hill and stopped for some ice cream which we ate in the rain (for a change). Then back to the bike and we tried to figure out how to get onto the Romantische Strasse. I had seen a sign just before the carpark that implied we were already on it so we decided to keep following the road and luckily we spotted another such sign. We took a wrong turn at one point and ended up in a random carpark but we were soon back on the Strasse which wound its way through fairly flat countryside, with the occasional mosey into a more interesting area. All in all, the Romantische Strasse was a major disappointment for us. We could have stopped at the tourist information area at the castle and picked up a guide, but instead we decided to just follow the signs, which was our mistake. The idea of the Strasse is that it links interesting historical sights, not that it actually contains the sights. This was our mistake. We did go through some pretty towns but in general we were not impressed. We spent the first night camping in a reasonable enough site with a pretty lake, where I had a cold shower and therefore was quite miserable.

The next day was wet of course, and in the afternoon we were having problems finding anywhere to camp so decided to choose the next zimmer frei we came across. It happened to be a little pub in a tiny village; it didn’t look particularly welcoming or even open, but we were wet and tired and not sure how much further we had to go before we'd find something better. So we stopped and went past a group of people drinking on the verandah and asked a man inside for a zimmer frei. He took us past the pub and up a set of stairs where we immediately felt as though we were in someone’s home. Someone’s home that hadn’t been cleaned in a long, long time. There was general stuff everywhere, like buckets and brooms and jackets. It looked like they were moving house. He showed us to a big room at the front that had a shower and sink in the corner (note I didn’t say ensuite) and one of those big old black leather beds from the 1980s with a digital clock radio actually built in. There was a second smaller room at the end with twin beds. We looked at each other, trying not to laugh or grimace, and asked how much. I believe it was 40 euros including breakfast, so we said ok and went downstairs to get our stuff. I don’t know who the man who showed us the room was; the rest of the time we ended up dealing with the owner, an older man who had no English at all. They were kind enough to open up their garage so we could keep the bike out of the rain. Once we had all our things upstairs I decided to use the toilet before we went out again; I went outside the room and asked an old lady sweeping in the hallway where the WC was and she pointed at a door in the corner. Well if the rest of the place felt like someone’s home, the toilet was no different. It seemed to be toilet and laundry in one and I have no idea how long it had been since someone cleaned it. I was slightly nervous about catching a disease; none of the campsites we’d visited had been anywhere near so filthy.

We went for a walk around the village, which consisted of a few houses and a church on the hill where I think we interrupted the ending of a fete of some kind. There was nowhere to buy food so we decided to eat at the zimmer frei, where we had gigantic schnitzels and beers for 16 euros or so. It was all cooked by an old lady (different to the sweeper) who I assumed was the owner’s wife; the owner liked to serve us our meals and make sure everything was ok. The group of people stayed outside drinking but I don’t think they ever ate. I sent mum a message saying we were staying in a really filthy pub but otherwise were okay; I think I was almost afraid we’d go missing and was thinking it would be good if someone knew roughly where we were. On the other hand, we’d been so lucky with our accommodation and figured we should push our comfort levels a bit so it was an adventure in that sense. And really, from what we could tell with our rudimentary German and their English, the owners really were nice people, missing teeth notwithstanding. In the morning as we were riding out of the carpark the man came running out of the front door, camera in hand, and got us to wave for his photo. ‘Bye bye,’ he kept calling to us, waving. It was kind of sweet. I’d love to go back one day and see if we made it onto the wall of the pub, where I’d assumed the photos of guests were some kind of celebrities.


We got as far north as Wurzburg the next day and went straight to the tourist information office at the train station to find accommodation. I say ‘straight’ when in actual fact it involved the GPS and going round and round in circles, complete with yelling at each other through helmets to discuss directions. Yes, things were still stressful. The tourist office was really just a window with all the accommodation listed but it did the job and we put the addresses into the GPS to try and find one of the campsites. There was a bunch of kids who looked old enough to know better drinking and carrying on just outside the train station so we weren’t that keen on staying around much longer. We managed to find our first choice of campsite easily enough; it was quite a pretty spot next to the river and far enough from the city that there wasn’t too much traffic. Inside the office was a bunch of pamphlets including several for the Romantische Strasse, showing the route and where to get off and where to stay. Wow, that would have been helpful three days ago. Wurzburg was actually the last stop; we’d managed to do the entire Romantische Strasse without seeing anything.

We got set up for the night and Toby went for a walk along the river while I put some music on and tried to read my book while we calmed down from our stressful afternoon. For dinner we went to the on-site restaurant and ordered pizza and beer. We were soon overrun by everyone else at the site who were there to watch the Germany vs Austria game in the Euro Cup. That was a fun night with emotions running high throughout the restaurant. We were trying to do our laundry at the same time so at one point I went outside to check on it; someone had pulled all our clothes out and left them on top of the dryer while they used it. I was so cranky especially as they were still so damp. We got it back eventually and once we’d had enough of the soccer we decided to play some table tennis in the shed with the laundry so we could make sure no one else interrupted our very important washing.

In the morning we decided to re-think our route. We’d exhausted the Romantische Strasse and weren’t sure we wanted to continue much further north since Toby was quite keen to have some more time in the south of France. On the other hand, we needed to get north eventually. We eventually decided we wanted some more mountain riding and decided to head south for Switzerland; Toby was quite keen for a ride on an autobahn so we were going to use the motorways instead of the secondary routes we’d been on so far.

The autobahn was fantastic, terrifying fun; I got off the bike feeling as though my skin had rearranged itself over my face. The incredible thing was how fast people were going; we were going fast enough but there were still quite a few people in their Porsches who were easily overtaking us. It wasn’t the easiest way to travel as it was never really clear when it changed from speed limit to no speed limit; it was a bit nerve-racking but we were both glad we’d made the effort to find one. I think Toby was keen to leave me by the side of the road for a while so he could really let loose, but that was never really a practical option. And I would have been really mad.

We stopped for petrol and it turned out we’d both been thinking how silly it was that we were heading for Switzerland when really we needed to be moving north. What a waste of time and petrol, we said to each other. Never mind. We got back on the road and stayed in the same direction; when we stopped next for lunch we decided it really was a stupid thing to be doing, so after we’d eaten we turned back and decided to head for Freiburg since it was near the border of Germany and France and looked big enough.

And all of a sudden, Germany started looking more interesting. The ride into Freiburg was stunning, through forested mountains and along lots of nice windy roads. We had a small drama when we first arrived by somehow ending up in a pay parking lot; I forget why but this was absolutely not what we wanted and we ended up leaving very quickly without paying by riding through the space between the barrier and the wall. I should say we tried to pay, but because we’d been there for such a short period of time, the machine wouldn’t accept our ticket and nor would the barrier machine. And hoping their security cameras were busy looking at other things as we did so. Finally we managed to park near the tourist information office, which was in the pretty town centre, and this is when we discovered that Freiburg was in the middle of the Black Forest. No wonder it was so magnificent. We decided we wanted a hotel for the night and managed to book a place through the office; when they found out we were on a bike they even gave us a special tour map showing suggested routes for motorbikes.


The hotel was a short ride out of the town centre, just off a fairly major road. It was actually an old pub/restaurant that had been done up, with rooms upstairs. We’d specifically wanted wi-fi and this hotel was the only one that offered it and wasn’t charging a fortune. Unfortunately you get what you pay for, so we didn’t manage to get wi-fi the whole time we were there. (Toby of course knew how to fix it but the guy at the desk was entirely uninterested in the fact that an advertised service was unavailable, so we didn’t offer.) The room was quite nice and overlooked the ‘beer garden’ and a church. There was a TV and a big bed and as Toby wasn’t feeling well, we decided we would stay two nights. Freiburg looked like a nice place to explore and we were ready for a bike-free day.

I left Toby to rest and went for a walk up the road to find some food; luckily I found an Aldi and could stock up on items for a picnic dinner in our room. I remember making cheese and ham sandwiches on greasy bread and passing them across the bed for Toby to eat. German TV had a lot more English available so I think we watched a movie that night as well, and generally took it easy. In the morning we arranged to stay an extra night and then walked into town for an explore. Freiburg was a lovely place, with lots of tanned Germans riding around on their bikes, pretty buildings and public spaces. It’s a university town and did have that young, buzzy vibe about it. We did a bit of shopping and ate yummy sandwiches sitting on the window sill of a public square, people watching.

After lunch we decided to visit the Augustiner museum; unfortunately it was going through some renovations and we didn’t get to see much; we also annoyed the security guard by not understand where to go. But they had some really interesting and beautiful religious paintings and other items so it was a worthwhile detour. We made our way back to the hotel for a rest and then for dinner we ate in the beer garden of the hotel; it was a lovely warm evening and lots of people had the same idea as us, to eat and drink in the sunshine. We tried our best to translate and order from the all-German menu but the waitress had to step in using English at a point when I tried to order some pasta and what I thought was a salad. It wasn’t a salad; I’ve no idea what it was but I got the impression I was ordering two main meals. My pasta was a traditional German noodles in white sauce with cheese on top and grilled; absolutely delicious and very, very decadent. It was the only vegetarian item I could figure out on the menu but it was definite comfort food. We ended up getting a salad with the meal anyway so no wonder the waitress thought I was a bit greedy. Most of the people around us looked like workmates at after work drinks but there were a few people nearby who didn’t fit into that stereotype. When they were leaving, one of them decided to put on a show and started yelling at everybody as he left; it was like being in civic again. We asked the waitress what he was yelling about and she said she couldn’t understand him. I don’t know if that’s true but it was kind of nice to see that crazy is a universal.

The Epic Ride Part V: Austria

On our way from Verona we had one last stop at an Italian motorway restaurant – complete with fantastic mountain views – and then it started cooling down, quite a bit. We decided to follow the signs to Innsbruck (thanks to the brochure) and by the time we got there it was absolutely pouring with rain. Luckily we found a tourist information office before we hit town – this had also happened in Inverness, Scotland, and it’s the best design ever. More towns should put their tourist office on the outskirts. There was a very helpful guy in the office who cheerfully told us the European Cup was on, it was in Vienna but there were games in Innsbruck so ‘everything’ was full. We could go to campsite X, he said, but we probably didn’t want to as he’d just sent all the Swiss supporters there and it would be full of hooligans. We could go to campsite Y but it’s quite small and yes, it’s still pouring rain. He made a call to a small hotel in town that had had a vacancy in the morning, and luckily it was still available so we booked it on the spot. Then he started showing us the map of the town and talking about all the things we could do. He was obviously very proud of Innsbruck and was certainly one of the most helpful people we came across. Of course, by the time we finally left the office the sun was out. Never mind we thought, a campsite full of hooligans doesn’t sound like our cup of tea anyway.

We did have some false starts but we found the hotel eventually, tucked into a tiny side street not far from the town centre. Innsbruck was a really lovely place, with mountains all over and some very pretty buildings. Once we were settled in our huge room with the two beds and 1970s bathroom full of smoked glass we went for a walk into town where things were quite busy. Austria was playing Germany that night so everyone was out and all the restaurants had TVs set up in the squares; there were also big TV screens at different points where we would have been happy to sit with a good Bavarian sausage and beer, but that didn’t really look possible. Once we’d had a good walk around we chose a very touristy place for dinner where we had an excellent spot for people-watching; I had the ‘dumpling’ plate which was exactly that – a collection of dumplings and sauces – and Toby had a decent enough schnitzel. Oh, and giant beers of course. It was a good night with the party atmosphere in town and all.

In the morning we had breakfast included so we ate a giant meal in a nice room full of footy fans. I do love those German style breakfasts, what with all that bread and cheese. We decided that instead of looking around Innsbruck much more we would visit Crystal Worlds which the guy in the office had told us about; essentially Swarovski’s gallery. Apparently it was the second most visited place in Austria. So off we went; of course it wasn’t as easy to find as we thought but once we got the GPS working it was fine. Crystal Worlds was out in a little village near Innsbruck, next to the Swarovski headquarters and surrounded by great mountain views. Great place to work. We didn’t really know what to expect and the entry fee was quite high but once we were in, we didn’t regret going at all. It was absolutely incredible, especially the first two galleries. Swarovski had basically commissioned a whole bunch of different artists to do things with crystals. The second gallery was like standing in a giant kaleidoscope; it was a really strange feeling. We had to keep moving quite quickly as the Austrian army was having an excursion and there were lots of young bald men in heavy boots tramping around. (I am still not sure why the army has excursions but I guess if anyone needs to learn to appreciate beauty and other abstract concepts, it’s probably defence personnel.) Toby overheard some silly American girls talking about how boring it all was and how they couldn’t believe they paid for it; I couldn’t believe someone would find something like that boring. They were probably not looking hard enough. After the galleries you got to look through the shop (of course) where I was tempted by many items but managed to resist. We ate in the restaurant too but like most gallery food it was too little for a lot of money.

After Crystal Worlds we had a choice between heading for Salzburg or the Alps; although I fully intend to visit Salzburg primarily to do the Sound of Music tour one day, it was in the opposite direction to where we wanted to end up and I didn’t feel like this was the trip to do it. So off to the Alps we went. We found a campsite in a cute little village nestled beneath an absolutely huge snow-capped mountain. We set up the tent next to a little creek and then on my way to the bathroom I ran into a man who started talking to me in what I think was German. I acted all confused and asked if he spoke English, which he did, and he asked me if we were the ones on the bike. I said we were and we chatted a bit about the Alps and what we were doing on our trip; he and his wife were there for three weeks from Belgium on a walking holiday. He had a very cute little dog with him too.

The man hung around us a fair bit over the next little while; he was very helpful in pointing out where we could find a supermarket (even though it still took us a long time to walk to the next little village) and chatting about where to explore next. We couldn’t quite figure out why he was spending so much time with us; he was a fair bit older and although he seemed to enjoy practising his English it was still a bit odd. Finally he asked Toby if he could see the bike, and it suddenly all made sense. He was a biker too! Toby took the cover off the bike and they went over it together and made various grunting noises at each other. It was nice to see that language is no barrier to secret men’s business.

We had a rather chilly night in our tent since we were not really prepared for camping in the Alps; we needed at least as much clothes as we had on Skye and a little more. Thank goodness for hot showers and cuddles. In the morning we said goodbye to our new friend and his dog, wished him luck for the rest of his walks, and headed off in search of the Romantische Strasse which was one of our main goals for the trip. We had been looking forward to the Fern Pass as it was meant to be a good ride (so the Belgian had told us) and although the scenery was magnificent, the traffic was very heavy so Toby couldn’t really get into the corners the way he likes to. But looking down into lush green valleys with perfectly blue lakes nestled in the floor was absolutely fantastic.

The Epic Ride Part IV: Italy

We were feeling very disgruntled as we passed beneath the tin roof that served as a border point between France and Italy. The traffic was incredibly slow and there were still no campsites to be found. We were cursing ourselves for not having stopped at the 4-star campsite near Nice, but being in France we hadn’t anticipated such a long wait between sites. Finally we saw a sign for camping and turned off, not much caring what the site ended up like. And luckily we didn’t care. A very friendly young Italian bloke took us on a tour; the site was basically just the slope down from the main road, divided into terraces. There was no grass, and only a couple of metres between fences where you were supposed to set up a tent, so anyone walking by would be passing very close. The bathrooms were just stalls out in the open, and you had to pay for a hot shower. We got to choose between one strip of dirt where two tents were already set up, or a slightly larger patch of dirt where a whole family had a little tent city going on. We chose the smaller strip and asked how much for the night; imagine our shock after French prices when he said it would be 20 euros! We decided we didn’t have much choice at that point and agreed. So we set up our tent in the dirt (lucky it was still muddy from our night in Apt) and then headed out in search of food, and the beach. Despite our difficult afternoon, I was still hoping for a nice relaxing beer and maybe some food, overlooking the Mediterranean. That would make up for the heat and frustration. Unfortunately, at the top of the campsite driveway we turned right instead of left, and ended up walking for half an hour to...nowhere. Along the street, basically. We passed a couple of dodgy-looking coffee bars and that was all. No food, no beach, nothing. Very disheartened, we went back to the campsite and to the supermarket/coffee shop across the road where we bought a road map and some lemonade and got yelled at by the blokes in the shop for some reason, and sat outside feeling a bit sorry for ourselves. Italy was my favourite country on our last trip to Europe and I had been so looking forward to visiting again, but it just wasn’t going as well as one might have hoped. Once we’d fortified ourselves with some lemonade, we bought some dinner items at the supermarket, unfortunately restricted by our lack of Italian skills. There was some lovely looking fresh pasta and sauces behind the deli counter but I didn’t know how to say ‘200 grams’ and didn’t fancy being yelled at again, so we stuck with the packaged stuff. Once we’d dropped our groceries back at the campsite we decided to try one more time to find a beach of some kind.

Luckily we were more successful by turning left at the main road; it was still more difficult than it would be in Australia with those helpful ‘beach’ signs on the street, or France’s ‘les plages’ but we walked down a footpath with brick walls on both sides, past fancy-looking gates to hotels and apartment complexes. Finally we passed through a gateway onto the ‘beach’. It was rocky and pebbly and being fairly late in the evening, grey and windy. But we’d found the water, and something about the sea air was very refreshing so we reluctantly returned to our feral campsite for dinner. Like Apt, they had an area under cover where you could cook and eat but unlike Apt, it was just a shed. Literally, a tin roof shed with a concrete floor, mostly open sides, a couple of dusty tables and broken wooden chairs like you have in primary school. So we cooked our gnocchi in pesto on one of the tables, trying to ignore all the unfriendly Italian campers around and just wanting to get to bed. We discovered you needed to pay for the hot showers, and I discovered I felt very unsafe in the open stall design. (Thank goodness for unisex cubicles so I could take my bodyguard with me, celeb-style.) After we’d finally gone to bed, the family in the terrace down below us decided it was time to have a party, and cranked up the music. They had babies and small children so I didn’t think it would take too long before they retired, but I guess Italian babies are ragers because it felt like the party went forever. Needless to say we were not impressed with Italian camping style. Compared to the quiet, introverted French experience, it was not very pleasant at all. Who builds a campsite next to the Mediterranean with no beach access? Craziness.

The next day we had our breakfast in the shed and then it started to rain. So it took a while for us to get our tent and everything packed up, although we did watch in awe as one girl managed to pull her entire tent into the shed and pack it all up herself in about five minutes. Finally we were ready to hit the road; given our awful experience the day before we decided to just get on the motorway and get to Pisa. We took a wrong turn initially and ended up winding our way up a tiny road to a hilltop village; it was very picturesque with the amazing views across the ocean but also rather nerve-racking with the tight corners and blind spots. Finally we found our way and got onto the motorway with no close calls. But unfortunately the motorway didn’t really prove much faster than the secondary roads; the traffic was still appalling but made easier by the fact that we decided to do as all the other bikers were doing and use the centre line as an extra lane. Due to our bigger size we couldn’t do that all the time but sitting in the sun in full gear breathing in all those car fumes was just unbearable. We passed what seemed like a neverending sprawl of beige housing spread over green hillsides and I was wondering why anyone would ever choose to live near the Mediterranean. It looked horribly crowded and dull, even with that gorgeous blue ocean in the distance. The best thing about the Italian motorway was how removed it was from the rest of the roads, being so high and giving such great views.

The traffic got a little easier in the afternoon and we managed to get all the way to Pisa. We had a disappointing stop in Lucca first, where we failed to find a campsite or a tourist office or even somewhere to park, so in the end we decided to push on to Pisa. We were very lucky and saw a sign to camping very quickly; the campsite was huge and very well-kept. You could probably call it a holiday resort. There were more rules than we were used to, including having to get them our passport, and it was super expensive, but there was also a pool and a pizza restaurant on-site. Once we got the tent set up we went for a little walk into town to try and find the leaning tower. It was less than a kilometre away so it wasn’t difficult to find. Although the walk was slightly marred by so many people trying to sell us stuff, once we got to the square with the tower we were absolutely blown away. Here was the reminder we needed as to why we loved Italy last time, and why we’d taken the effort to get there this time. The tower was breathtaking; it really was leaning. The photos do not do it justice. And even without the tower, the square had other buildings, beautiful, austere, impressive buildings that were enough to see on their own. It really was the perfect antidote to our difficult couple of days in Italy; we were so glad we’d made the time to get off the motorway and see something beautiful.

We tried to go to the supermarket to buy dinner items; we stood in front of the glass doors with a very obvious sign saying it closed at 8pm. It was 7:40pm, and very clearly closed. This was not an isolated experience in Italy but at the time it was very frustrating. So we went back to the campsite and went to the on-site restaurant for pizza and beer. The receptionist had given us a brochure for a campsite company that owned the one we were in; we agreed that due to our unpleasant experience the night before we would stick to this company from now on as much as we could. They were expensive but it certainly beat the concentration camp we’d been in the night before. So over dinner we used the brochure to plan out the rest of our time in Italy, including two nights in Rome and some time on the Adriatic coast. It was an odd feeling to be more in control of our destinations and have an idea of where we wanted to camp, but Italy was proving to be so challenging we decided it was the way to go.

The plan for the next day was a quick trip through Tuscany, finishing up in Rome in time to meet with Toby’s boss Bob and his family for dinner. The weather was terrible, something we’d gotten used to, so although some parts of Tuscany were quite pretty, for the most part we were looking at low grey clouds. The traffic remained fairly heavy, with lots of campervans trundling about, and we also had our closest call when a little while Fiat hooned onto the motorway and immediately tried to overtake without realising we were in the other lane. Luckily being on a bike we had more room to get out of their way than if we’d been in a car; but I still managed a little squeal that reverberated inside my helmet and I did give the guy a rude gesture as we sped away from them. We got to Rome okay but as we started circling the city, we ran into some issues. The camping brochure had instructions for how to find the campsite but the instructions assumed you were coming down the A1 from Florence, which is what we’d intended but failed to do.

So somehow we ended up riding in circles around the centre of Rome. Yes, that was as scary as it sounds. No, I wouldn’t recommend it. Yes, sometimes I thought I was going to die. Yes, it was hot and frustrating and we had no idea where we were going. Then we thought we’d finally cracked it; we’d found the ring road and would soon be on our way. But no; instead we ended up in a sterile factory outlet retail park. Starving. And hot. We’d been ‘in Rome’ for two hours, and were no closer to finding anything. At this point we decided it was time to get out the GPS, so we did that and put the campsite address in; thank goodness we had an idea of where we wanted to camp at least. Otherwise I am sure we would have ended up in a dodgy, expensive Roman hotel.
Finally, thanks to the GPS we found our campsite on the outskirts of Rome by the Tiber river. It was much like the one in Pisa; huge and with lots of facilities. It had a real hostel feel about it with lots of young American college students running around. They also had rock and pop music playing in the bathrooms, and a beer garden and a pool. Oh, and a laundry. When you are touring on a bike, a laundry is a godsend. We decided that as we were spending two nights there and needed a good rest and somewhere safe for our bike gear, we would hire a cabin for the time. It wasn’t a full cabin with a kitchen but it had two proper beds and a little ensuite bathroom which was certainly more comfortable than a tent. Once we were settled we got in touch with Bob and got directions to find where he was staying and then off we set on our journey into Rome. This involved taking a bus from the campsite to the train station, then getting on the train into Rome. Then it was the metro, and then we had to find a bus from the metro. We couldn’t figure out how to buy a bus ticket so Toby rang Bob; he said just get on and he would pay the fine if necessary. Luckily that wasn’t necessary, and we managed to get off the bus at the right stop and only took one wrong turn before Bob found us wandering the streets.
It was a strange thing to see a familiar face in such an unfamiliar place; we had a warm greeting from Bob and then he took us up to his daughter’s apartment where his family had gathered for dinner. They were all very lovely and welcomed us to their night, which started with bubbly and some delicious Italian-style nibbles at the apartment and then moved to a neighbourhood trattoria down the street. Bob’s daughter works for DFAT and she and her husband had been living in Rome several months, although they were being sent home a few weeks later. It was great to have some Italian speakers in the group as they could talk to the waiters for us. We had some lovely wine and perfect, simple pasta. For dessert I shared a tiramisu with Bob’s sister-in-law; it was one of the yummiest things I have ever had. It was such a great night and really refreshing to spend time in a nice restaurant with pleasant people we could actually converse with. Conscious of the fact we had a long drive back to the campsite we left fairly early to get a cab and snuggled into our nice cabin, full and sleepy and looking forward to our day off.

The next day dawned bright and sunny and – shockingly – stayed that way. Our first day without rain. We had breakfast at the little outdoor table setting on the concrete outside our cabin and then got the bus to the train station. Then the train into Rome. This time we decided to walk from the station since it was a part of Rome we hadn’t seen before, although we intended to re-visit a few of our favourite places from the last time. The first exciting thing that happened was we came across a movie set in a piazza; we looked around hoping to see a famous face but unfortunately it was an Italian movie and we didn’t know anyone. We had to wait a bit while they shot a scene of people crossing the street and then we could cross through and find THE MOST AMAZING SHOE SHOP I HAVE EVER SEEN. Words do not do that shop justice. They had lots of signs saying no photos so I have no proof of it, but I did spend a fair bit of time looking in the windows, mouth open. They had a sales rack of shoes for the bargain price of 99 euros and I almost certainly would have bought a pair and shipped them home if I had found some that I liked, and that fit my wide white girl feet. Unfortunately none of them fit the bill so we had to leave it at that.

The rest of the day we spent doing some more window-shopping; visiting the Trevi fountain and Piazza Navona; looking at the Forum from the walkway above and the Colosseum from the outside; eating gelato and listening to street performers. It was a glorious day of sunshine and nice food and we definitely tried to enjoy every minute we were spending not on a bike. We bought some dinner things at the supermarket to take back with us; when we got back to the campsite we put our swimmers on and went to the pool but it was cooling off by then so we just relaxed with our book/DS Lite before cooking. We also took the opportunity to do some laundry even though it was a total rip-off that cost 9 euro. It was worth it to get all of our clothes clean which they hadn’t been since we left Oxford.

In the morning we packed up the bike again and decided to try and find our way without the GPS, since we were so close to the ring road we couldn’t possibly get lost. Ha ha. We were proved wrong but this time, instead of riding in circles for two hours we pulled into a petrol station and got the GPS out to help us get to the highway. Our aim for the day was to reach Pescara on the Adriatic coast, and then move a little further north to find a campsite listed in the brochure. Once we were out of Rome and heading along the highway through Abruzzo, we started falling in love with Italy again. The mountain scenery was spectacular and the traffic was non-existent; we started wondering why anyone would spend weeks campervanning in Tuscany with hundreds of other people when there was this corner of the world just waiting to be explored. I believe this was also the day we discovered the amazing Italian motorway restaurants which were so much better than anything we’d seen before it defied belief. The variety of food was brilliant; it was all so fresh and simple. Bowls of salads and fruit, desserts, steaks they’d cook you on the spot, hot pasta and gnocchi dishes, fresh bread – it was fantastic although we found it strange that also on offer was beer and wine. At this point I was avoiding meat and I never had trouble finding anything to eat at those places. The other interesting thing was watching these burly Italian men tucking into their salads, and their fruit; you would never see that at a rest stop in Australia and it made me realise just how seriously they take their food there.

Our reason for going to Pescara was that back when we were planning our overseas adventure, we had initially thought we might go to Italy for a year. We weren’t sure we could handle Rome but after some research on real estate and jobs we ended up looking more at Pescara. So we wanted to visit and see what we would have been doing, had I not gotten cold feet and declared we needed to go to an English-speaking country instead. Pescara was quite nice; it had a very different feel to other Italian cities we’d been to. It was very flat, and had a chilled, coasty vibe about it. We went for a walk through an outdoor mall to the beach and then strolled along the esplanade, stopping for some gelato (of course) before going back to the bike. We weren’t far away from our campsite but it was late-ish on a Friday afternoon and the traffic on the main road up the coast was horrendous. It took us a long time to get up to Guilianova, but we found our site eventually. At least I think we did; there were three big holiday resorts all in a row and it was difficult figuring out which one we wanted. In the end it probably didn’t matter as they all looked very similar. We pulled in next to the front office (which was really a big house on a hill) and were promptly tucked into a golf buggy and whisked around the corner by a chatty old Italian man. He showed us two different spots and then delivered us back to the front office to book in for the night. It was rather an odd ritual especially as the spots he showed us were so close to where we’d been and we could have easily walked. Anyway we got settled in for the night and then went for a walk to find some food and the beach. The beach was ‘private’ for that resort and covered with sun lounges and umbrellas, which we’d come to expect. The water was nice and warm but we weren’t quite up to swimming at that point so instead we got some dinner things from the on-site supermarket and went back to our tent. I have memories of it beginning to rain at that point, and needing to wait until it eased off before we could venture out and cook our dinner in the dark.

The next morning we were eating our breakfast – standing up by the tent as usual – when a man came over from his campervan nearby and gave us two little folding chairs, and a table. We were quite overwhelmed by his generosity; he said we could ask for them anytime. They were a Dutch couple on an extended holiday complete with bicycles strapped to the back of the van (a very Dutch thing to do) and were heading off on a trip through the mountains that day. It was a much more comfortable breakfast than what we were used to.

We decided not to go very far that day; we were enjoying the Adriatic coast and considering the traffic we’d had the previous day we weren’t sure how far we’d get anyway. So we just went a couple of hundred kilometres up the coast towards Ancona and turned off just beforehand to try and find our campsite (listed in the brochure of course). Being us we got hungry before we got to that point so we stopped at a beachside restaurant for some food. It was a bit more upmarket than what we’d been aiming for, plus we were almost the only ones there (except for a few people who seemed to be related to the waitress), but we persevered and got a table out on the verandah right on the beach. This sounds very peaceful and it should have been, except for the gigantic crane right in front of us that was moving sand from its tray into the water. No idea what that was about. We got charged for the basket of bread they put on the table and our food (gnocchi for me, calamari for Toby) was very salty and didn’t come with any vegetables which would have been nice. Anyway. We were fed.

We ventured further down the esplanade, past more restaurants and ‘private’ beaches, thinking how different it was to the Australian way where the restaurants are on one side of the road and the beach is on the other, open to everyone and none of this ‘exclusively for members’ business. Considering how much beach they have, it seemed so silly to make it so difficult to access. We found our campsite at the end of a road and the girl at the front office gave us a map to show us their two available spaces for tents. This was the craziest campsite I have ever seen. It seemed to be full of long termers, who would park their van in a site and take up a neighbouring site with tarpaulin roofs and entire outdoor settings. It looked like a refugee camp with the number of temporary structures they had set up. It was unbelievably crowded. Of the two sites we were directed to, one was just a corner of grass where the bike would barely fit and the other was in the middle of lots of other vans. There were no people around so it was difficult to tell what we were getting ourselves in for. Considering we were hoping to spend more than one night here, we weren’t awfully impressed but decided we could probably live with it considering what we’d got last time we’d tried to be picky.

So we went back to the office and told the girl which spot we’d take; then we said we noticed the front gate was shut (we’d parked outside and walked through a hedge) and how would we get the bike in? It was then she told us we couldn’t actually check in for another hour or so. Just one of those things which makes sense in a hotel but less so at a campsite with three staff currently on duty. It didn’t take us long to decide we didn’t love the idea of hanging around in our full bike gear, so we thanked her and went on our way. As we left the road they were on, we noticed their ‘private beach’ and assumed we could have waited there until check in time. I don’t know why the girl didn’t tell us that; she could have saved the sale. Anyway. We found another campsite that was more expensive but far less crowded, and lovely and shady too. Its beach access was direct (underpass beneath the main road) and there was a shop and restaurant on site. So there we stayed. We set the tent up under some trees and headed down to the beach which was awfully rocky. The water was cooler than it had been further south but we still managed a swim. The annoying thing was that we were very thirsty and the camp shop was shut so Toby had to go off in search of a drink. In such a popular spot in Australia you wouldn’t have to go far to find a takeaway of some kind, but he really struggled and ended up with a bottle of sprite from one of the fancy restaurants. The strange thing about it was the number of men trying to sell random stuff on the beach, like jewellery or sunglasses or melons. If one of them sold bottles of water I think they might find they do better business. Anyway. For dinner we had pizza in the restaurant on site and the waiter made me try some kind of Italian aperitif at the end which was kind of gross. We went to bed looking forward to our peaceful campsite only to be kept awake for hours by what I assume was a rave happening in the next paddock over. It was amazing how loud it was and how long it went on for. Not happy Jan.

Our sleep was further disrupted the next morning by a guy deciding to edge the grass at 8am. Not sure why it couldn’t wait. Not sure why he was edging perfectly short grass especially when it meant we got little rocks being ricocheted onto our tent. Not fun. It was during this frustrating time when Toby realised he felt ill. Really, really ill. I got him back into the tent and we tried to figure out what to do. Eventually I went to the office and asked about the bungalows they had; she took me to see one and it was a very simple cube, with half taken up by a wee kitchen and sofa, and the other half split into a double bedroom and a bathroom. It also had a verandah, with table and chairs. There was nothing luxurious about it at all but it looked perfect to give Toby a proper rest away from the edge clippers, and me the space to do other things. So I booked it for that night (even though her boss didn’t want a single night booking on a weekend – she was nice and lied to him for me, they were hardly at capacity and we’d already stayed one night so it seemed a bit mean to me) and set out moving Toby into the bed and then packing up the tent. On my own. Which I did just fine. And it was here we spent the next two days, Toby drifting in and out of sleep and me making use of the laptop and enjoying having a kitchen to cook proper meals for a change. We booked a second night in the end as Toby still wasn’t up to riding and it seemed silly to push ourselves when we had such a good spot set up. I was very worried about Toby especially being so far away from a hospital, unable to speak the language and unable to use our own transport, but luckily he got better through rest and panadol. We kept saying if he could just hold on until we got to Austria, where we had greater faith in the medical system. Once he was feeling better, we could enjoy where we were a bit more and went for some walks along the beach and a swim in the pool. If we had to get stuck anywhere, I’m glad it was there with the little bungalow and the English-speaking staff. Unfortunately they didn’t have a clothes dryer (only a washing machine) but that was their only fault. I think I may also have made friends with the family who ran the little shop; at least they were always very nice to me even the woman when I inadvertently got her to pick up a gigantic block of cheese to cut me a slice. None of them really spoke English so it was always interesting trying to order things from the deli or ask for bread. It was fun though.

Finally on the fourth day we decided we were ready to leave so we packed up the bike and headed towards Bologna (brochure again). It took a few hours, including a stop at another fantastic motorway restaurant, and we managed to find the campsite without any problems. It was more like the Rome or Pisa campsites, well set out with lots of facilities (including a laundry, yay). Once we got set up there we got the local bus which stopped in the carpark into town. Bologna took us by surprise I think; it was a very trendy place, full of expensive shops and people dressed in beautiful clothes (I even saw one lady sailing down the street on her bicycle, hot pink pashmina blowing in the wind behind her). The buildings and public squares were lovely too. We bought some dinner items at a supermarket and then got the bus back to the campsite where we went to the bar for a beer. The European Cup was on (which we hadn’t realised) so there were lots of people at the bar watching the game which was France vs Croatia I think. I expect it was the nearest bar for miles for the people living in that part of Bologna, as we were surrounded by fields.

In the morning we decided to go back into Bologna; Toby had done some internet research and decided his illness was due to worms, and I needed a new book to read. We tried one pharmacy where the resident English speaker had no idea what he was saying, even when he tried saying it in the Italian he’d gotten off the internet. I kept telling him to draw a picture. In the end she figured out ‘tapeworm’ but said she couldn’t help us as you needed a prescription for it. Slightly disheartened we left that shop and went in search of books. We found another pharmacy on the way and went in; the resident English speaker there did know what we were talking about so we were given some drugs (even though Toby thought those were the drugs he’d read about on the net as being outdated) and were very much relieved. I also managed to find some English books in the second bookshop we tried; it was called ‘The Road’ by Cormac McCarthy and the reason I mention it is that it’s one of the best books I have ever read and I highly recommend it.

After that early morning adventure we went back to the campsite and packed up. It was turning into a really hot day at this point so we tried to hurry and then got onto the motorway, headed for Verona. Our handy brochure didn’t have anything listed as being in Verona, but I googled ‘camping in Verona’ and came up with an address so we knew we wouldn’t be stuck. The ride to Verona was very quick until just before we hit the city limits, and then we were forced to cut between the traffic again. A police car had passed us earlier and we were wondering if they cared about bikes snaking through traffic; the answer is no. We got into Verona and the GPS helped us find the campsite but only to a point. We had to climb up a very steep hill overlooking the city, and we did see a sign for camping but no obvious driveway so we kept going and ended up at Castel San Pietro, a massive building on top of the hill. The views over Verona were absolutely incredible, but we did need somewhere to stay so we ventured back down the road again and finally found the entrance to the campsite, which was tiny and just an opening in a fence really. Compared to the big holiday resorts we’d been in so far, the Verona campsite was very different. It was started around 100 years ago by a botanist, so it was full of interesting plants with little signs on them. It had very old city walls running through the campsite too, which was more a series of terraces set into the hillside than anything else. The first terrace, which you drove straight into from the road, was rather crowded but included a huge paved area with lounge chairs and the most wonderful views over the city. From there you walked down a very steep cobbled driveway to the next level, which had the reception building (also the shop, toilets and showers), a covered area with the sinks, and another paved area where the views weren’t so good but there was lots of tables and chairs set amongst potted plants. The girl in reception spoke very good English and explained all the rules to us and then showed us where we could camp. Unfortunately because they were a bit crowded and they were ‘saving’ the spots on the first terrace, our only option was a small patch of grass beneath the sinks area, and only a couple of metres away from the reception. We weren’t thrilled with the position but we loved the site and wanted to explore Verona so we were sold. Toby had been wanting to deal with some bank issues and the girl in the office was kind enough to allow him to print some documents and then the next day we were also able to use their fax machine. Small actions like those really made a difference for us on the trip.

We spent some time that afternoon exploring the nearest parts of Verona to us; the walk into town meant going back up the main road to San Pietro then following a set of stairs through some lovely, typical Italian houses, across the river and beneath an archway into a square where we found the best gelato we have ever had. It was a tiny shop with really interesting flavours like cinnamon, so we lined up along with all the locals and got ourselves some cones to eat on the bridge overlooking the water. One of those magical moments that made the more stressful times on the bike feel worthwhile. For dinner we picked up some things at a little supermarket and then headed back to the campsite where it promptly began to rain. And rain. And rain. And then hail. We were stuck inside our tent waiting for it to stop so we could cook our dinner, and hoping we weren’t going to wash away during the night. It wasn’t fun; when it stopped it was dark so we cooked our dinner in the sink area under the lights and ate quickly. The fun continued when someone forgot to turn off the big light outside reception when they left, so our tent was almost as bright as day all night. The noise coming from the reception area made our less than perfect position even more so.

In the morning after doing some banking and washing we decided to head back into town and find Juliet’s balcony, and visit the Arena. Of course it’s not really Juliet’s balcony, and of course we never managed to find it (realised later it was closed) but the walking around was fun and you could certainly imagine Romeo & Juliet running around those streets getting themselves into all kinds of mischief. It is a really romantic place.

We got swept up with all the tourists walking through the centre of town towards the Arena but managed to escape them for some lunch on a little side street where I ate my first spinach and ricotta pizza and we got charged for some bread sticks we didn’t order. Love those scams. After lunch we went to the Arena and decided to pay some money for an attraction since we’d come all that way and hadn’t visited the Colosseum in Rome. We ended up being glad we went in, even though we’d seen more impressive theatres in Turkey; part of what was so interesting was they were getting ready for opera season and we could watch them deal with a gigantic head and two matching hands on the stage.

For dinner we visited some nice deli places on our way back to the campsite, buying olive tapenade and bread and some cheese and other things. Well we had intended to just go to the supermarket but we had another typical Italian experience of being there at a time that said open on their sign, but they weren’t at all. Unfortunately the cheese ended up being out of date but we enjoyed the other parts of our dinner, sitting on the terrace. And we enjoyed our second visit to the amazing gelato shop as well. We couldn’t leave without going there again. I remember having a quieter night without the lights left on, and it didn’t rain at all that day which was lucky as we really needed our tent to dry out before we went anywhere.

The next morning as we were packing up we had a good chat to another Aussie guy who was there with his missus on a motorbike tour. They had much grander plans than us, including getting up to Sweden and Norway, and weren’t sure when they’d be going home. He had a German passport I think so was thinking of finding work; we were sure to recommend Edinburgh as a good option. They had brought their bike over with them; I’m not sure Toby approved of doing that given it was a Harley but it was good to share some common experiences (including the gelato) and know that we weren’t the only insane people out there on a bike. And then we were on our way out of Verona, heading north for Austria.