A Blind Woman, Two Wheels and 25,000 Miles – Day 18

Driving through the border we headed for the Mont Blanc tunnel which is about 7 miles long deep underneath the border. We had planned to video the drive but after stopping and starting numerous times to try to get the camera to behave we gave up - although really, a tunnel is a tunnel is a tunnel as it turned out to be!

Mont blanc itself was full of back pack carrying people and every second shop seemed to consist of outdoor clothes (a bit like Ambleside in the Lake District really but with better sun!)

We came through the tunnel to glorious sunshine and we both felt the mood lift immediately as everything was completely new - even the road signs to Bernard which he could not read! We pulled up outside the tunnel in a lay-by and I reached for my trusty phone to let people know we were now in Italia.

Shock, horror, complete catastrophe as my voice software decided to get complete and absolute laryngitis and not a peep could be extracted from the infernal thing. My mood changed instantly and for the next hour we did nothing but try to get it to work to no avail. I really did feel cut-off with this event and my phone is not only important in terms of communication but it gives me a sense of autonomy and control.
Suddenly this was gone and I felt it most keenly.

We set off into Italy with Bernard promising we would sort it out a little further down the road where we took a completely wrong turning and ended up doing 29 kms (plus 3 euro 30 cents toll) only to come back 29 kms (plus 3.30 Euro) to then discover we had to go back again the same 29kms (plus 3.30 Euro toll!)

At this point Bernard was feeling very sheepish about his navigation skills although we laughed and put this small hiccup in the scale of 25,000 miles and twelve months. Thus an hour is only an hour and nothing more. In the end we worked out it was the sat navs fault and Bernard felt much better! It wanted to take us the fastest route which would have meant going back through the Mont Blanc tunnel (another 22 Euro toll) to go to Rome. In the end we ignored the little box and went back to the old fashioned (map on the petrol tank) method!

At the eventual petrol stop I made an impassioned call to my sister in England (suggested by Bernard) regarding my phone problems and two hours later (so Bernard reminded me all day) we had resolved the problem. Relief and sunshine flowed around me. The sound of Bernard laughing as we set off filled my helmet at the waves of gladness coming from me at having my phone back fully functioning again.

After hours of passing though Italian tunnel after tunnel hewn through the mountains we arrived at Vercelli and our bed for the night. It was expensive really but we are both tired and it is 7pm when we arrive. Bernard has a rule about travelling on this journey. Actually he has many rules but this one is applicable here and now. Once the light starts to fade then we get off the road and find a pillow for the night. This is what we did even though it was an 82 Euro pillow.

What actually sold it to me was the fact the hotel had a garage. This meant Bernard would not be trundling up and down stairs on numerous trips with the bike equipment.

Little did I know until later that the garage was subterranean labyrinth which involved going down a ski-slope full of speed bumps about 8 inches apart. Thus he was very shaken - but not stirred - when he shambled in to the room scratching furiously at the zillion bites he seemed to have suffered with his short exposure to the Italian animal night life. As I drifted off to sleep I heard scratch, scratch, scratch.

It was the last thing I heard of the day.