Eva on the Via Francigena (and beyond)

Song of the Day: Bittersweet Symphony — The Verve

“You know I can change, I can change…but I’m here in my mold / I am here in my mold / And I’m a million different people from one day to the next I can change”

The opening of this song is fantastic for hiking when you have a good view. I had been saving it, thinking I might use it in Switzerland. But today, the beginning of the stereotypical Tuscan countryside, was the perfect fit.

It’s pretty remarkable that Tuscany actually exists. By that I mean — there are so many places that don’t meet the high expectations set for them (ever heard of “Paris Syndrome”?), and so few that fully deliver what they promise. The Swiss Alps is a good example of the latter, actually — you get there and think “yep, this is exactly what I was expecting.” At least scenery-wise, Tuscany is like this: views in every direction look like they could be a painting, or at least a desktop screen saver. Green, lush, hillsides covered by orderly rows of vines and olive groves. Stately homes with cypress-lined drives. Undulating hills that looks like they could be sand dunes, if they weren’t covered in fields of grass. Picturesque towns, clinging to distant hillsides. I spent most of today thinking, wow, this looks so…Tuscan.

But once again I am getting ahead of myself. My day started at 2am, when I was awoken by the DJ who lives full-time in the San Miniato hostel returning home. I missed this, but apparently there was a lot of other drama, as there was a second guy who also lived in the hostel who we didn’t know about, who was furious to come home and discover his bed taken by a random woman (fair enough). So, after many angry calls to the hostel proprietor (who could have prevented this problem by giving us this information in the first place), the friend went and slept upstairs with Eugenio, Enrico, and Domenico, who were not pleased to be woken up by this. All in all, just another addition to the extremely bizarre vibes of this hostel. I slept through most of this so was informed by, well, everyone as I packed this morning.

After a minor scare where I thought I had lost my wallet, I headed out to a pasticceria in town for a sfogliatella al riso and a sandwich which they made for me and packed to go, very kindly. On the way out of town I passed Marisa and Floris who were walking together in search of food, and the Italian men, who were parked in another cafe. Then it was down a hill and out of town, where I was quickly treated to absolutely spectacular vista of the Tuscan countryside and back toward town, lit in a perfect, cloudy sunrise.

I started heading uphill on what had been described as a dangerous road, though on a Sunday morning it was completely empty — a nice role reversal from yesterday, which felt more hazardous than expected! I passed the French women and stopped periodically to admire the view, which seemed to get better every minute, with layers and layers of hills stretching out ahead of me.

Eventually I started downhill, where I caught sight of Manuela and her bike parked alongside the road. I realized there was a pilgrim stopping point here, with a picnic table, a fountain, and — of course — a spectacular view. I stopped to chat with her for awhile, the sounds of gunshots ringing out from the forests around us. Then I was on my way, off the road now and on a strada bianca, a white gravel track that followed the ridge line of a hill. I ran into some hunters preparing for the day, who informed me that “we don’t hunt on the road here” so, no matter how loud the gunshots, I shouldn’t worry. I was passed by a few more hunters in their cars going to join the group — obvious from their camo + hi-vis outfits. I noticed that all of their cars seemed to be from the 80s and 90s — I guess no point in taking something new and nice on these gravelly, dusty roads.

I continued on, admiring the scenery as always and eventually heading up a hill to a break point, the last water fountain until basically Gambassi. The nature here was interesting — looking back behind me I realized what I thought had been a hill was really more of a cliff, and the cliff faces emerged from gaps in the forest. The trees were just starting to think about changing color, and so while it wasn’t exactly peak leaf-peeping it was still lovely.

At the break point I did a quick review of my supplies. I was doing okay on water but had stupidly not really brought enough food — by 9:30 am I was hungry again and I was worried my one sandwich wouldn’t be sufficient. So, I dug into a granola bar I’ve had with me since Pontarlier (oh, what this granola bar has seen!) and chatted for a bit with four day trippers walking this stage as their Sunday activity.

Here the path got surprisingly sandy — it almost felt like walking on the beach back in Camaiore — and I was passed by a number of mountain bikers flying downhill past me. I nearly had to dive into the olive groves to get out of the way. After passing a “panorama” viewpoint marked by a helpful sign, in case I couldn’t tell, I rounded a corner and suddenly emerged in a totally different world. Gone was all of the lush green of the morning. Ahead of me: layers of all shades of brown. And yet it was still stunning — hills so perfectly round they didn’t seem they could be real, and views as far as the eye could see in all directions. I stopped to take a few photos, but as I properly emerged out onto the exposed track I was slammed by a gust of wind. The weather today had been lovely — not too hot so far, with some light breeze and a good cloud cover. Now, the clouds were hanging a bit lower, and the wind was so strong I thought it might knock me over sometimes. Laughing, I took a few photos with my hair blowing in my face and marched on.

This road wound slowly around hills in this brown portion of the day. After crossing a road and stopping at a picnic table to eat my sandwich, I then followed a cypress-lined drive up past a farmhouse. I was suddenly hit with extreme exhaustion that I hadn’t felt since I was walking to Orbe with Kerry and Andy. I wanted nothing more than to sit down and take a nap.

Naturally, my reaction to this was to push myself even harder. Looking up above me I saw signs for another one of the big benches, like that I had seen in Viverone (I was also reminded that these originated in the Alta Langa!). I decided to go up and check it out as it seemed to promise pretty remarkable views. The climb up was brutal — not too long but so steep I thought I was going to fall up the hill. Reaching the top, after once again almost getting bowled over by the wind, I collapsed onto the bench to look at the view ahead of me — once again, green. After a few minutes I decided to continue onwards, and after a treacherous slip-slide down the hill I was back on the strada bianca.

It was starting to get hot now, and while the scenery was beautiful I was also ready to be done soon. I crossed a highway, and then headed up a hill through vineyards before reaching the only other fountain before Gambassi. After a quick break and a doused bandana, I stopped in a bar for a Fanta with ice (served in a wine glass, inexplicably), and then walked 10 minutes down the road to the hostel.

Unfortunately, the hostel didn’t open until 2:30, and it was just about 1:30. So, I decided the only thing was to take a nap in the garden until the place opened. I thought I would just sort of lightly close my eyes, but I awoke with a start thirty minutes later to find that Marisa had arrived and was also asleep on a bench.

Finally at 2:30 we were let in and got settled . I sat in the garden to write as it started to get chilly. The hostel garden was beautiful, with picnic tables among olive trees and a view over to Gambassi. I went to grab my down jacket (finally I get to wear it again after carrying it here from Canterbury) and watched the sunset with Marisa, Manuela, and Floris as we chatted about life. Specifically, we talked about what we owe to others, and what it means to do good if you also benefit (i.e., can you separate the impact of your actions from your own motivations)? It was an interesting conversation.

Afterwards we all piled into the dining room for one last dinner with this pilgrim crew. Over 2 courses plus dessert (vin santo and cantucci, a Tuscan specialty) we once again celebrated Eugenio’s birthday and had a lovely final night. After dinner, the host threw open the church door and encouraged us to explore. We wandered through the simple but lovely church, and Manuela and I had a deeper-than-expected conversation about faith and the church.

With that, it was time for bed. But not before admiring the view once more over the garden — olive trees illuminated by string lights, and looking up to see the stars, too.

Final mileage: 14.38 mi
Walking time: 6h 12m (incl. an hour for lunch)
Elevation gain: 1,312 ft

Accommodation: Ostello Sigerico. Not quite in Gambassi (a maybe 10 minutes outside the city), but since tomorrow is a short day this isn’t an issue. It does mean that you should plan to eat at the hostel.