A Blind Woman, Two Wheels and 25,000 Miles – Day 19

I woke up to hear Bernard still scratching away and moaning about his mosquito bites. I must admit his head did feel somewhat lumpy and when I told him this he didn't seem that impressed with my distinct lack of compassion to his extreme discomfort. Men!
We discussed the problem of getting the bike up the ski-like ramp and Bernard was mightily impressed with my suggestion of unloading the bike to some degree in order to lighten it for the ramp climbing event - which he promptly did and the happiness in his voice when he sailed up the ramp was apparent.

We started trying to stay off the Autostrada (motorways) in order to save money but the first grid-locked Italian town changed our mind! Then we elected to use the Avoid Traffic function of the sat nav to get to Rome only to discover it took us down single track farm paths with pot-holes which would swallow the bike completely without a trace. So we headed back to the Euro swallowing motorway. Relief and speed became apparent.

If you have ever driven on an Italian motorway you will know that either there are no speed limits or it is genetically programmed into Italian drivers to ignore them. It is one or the other. Speed limits do not seem to exist as far as we could tell. The Italians also have a wonderful tradition of overtaking and then coming in so close it is as if they are collecting wing mirrors (left side) as a hobby. On many occasions we thought they wanted to park their car on the petrol tank of the bike they were that close.

The motorway twisted and turned through the mountains and we did seriously question if they were going to actually charge us for driving on this road but, needless to say, they did.
After several hours of Italian motorways we stopped for food and discovered the joys of motorway service stations. Not a simple - look at food, place on tray, go and pay system for the Italians. No. You go and look at the food and then go to the other end of the building, order your food, pay, take till receipt back to another cue where, eventually, you get your food. You are probably ahead of me here.

By the time you look at what is available (in Italian of course), get to the queue, you have forgotten what you want. So it was that the three course meal became a cup of coffee until we could work this one out!

Hours later we did manage to find the inevitable pizzeria and happiness abounded as we munched our way through copious amounts of overflowing toppings with cups of coffee. At each stop now we are consuming gallons of water and we carry four bottles of water on the bike. The heat is profound. Waves and waves of hot air come at you even at 70mph. It is like somebody has turned a hair dryer on full and is pointing it at your whole body. The front of the bike is even worse for Bernard as he is behind a fairing and his feet are underneath the cylinders and so he gets the full force of the engine's heat as well. He gets off the bike dripping in sweat every time we stop but he takes it all in his stride as he gulps bottle after bottle of water before we replenish our stocks for the next set of miles.

Hotel searching began in earnest at 6pm in Viareggio and my head was filled with descriptions of 'beautiful' people as Bernard described them - in other words they drove Lamborghinis and Porsche cars and frolicked scantily clad in the streets. The first hotel wanted 150 Euro for the night at which Mr Indignant did his customary "No, no you do not understand, no buy, just use one night!" The hotel staff did not seem amused at his comments but he just acted innocent and stuck to "No, not buy whole hotel, just have room for night!" He alternated, eventually, with "Best price?" by which time I wanted to get out as quick as possible! The second hotel was so much cheaper at 130 Euro and Bernard gave up and we climbed back onto the bike and headed away from the Italian Southport (or Newquay) as it had turned out to be with the sun-worshipping and very rich sportscar owning people getting ready for their evening’s entertainment.

As darkness fell some time later we ended up at a services, a rest and a loo stop. I hear Bernard apologising in French to the Italian women as he clumps into the inner sanctum of the ladies and it makes me laugh but there is little else we can do as disabled facilities are few and far between. We are both very tired now but we have little choice but to continue on the motorway - which has a good road surface and so Bernard exudes confidence that we will find something in a little while and sure enough about 20kms later we found the hotel Europe for the sum of 70 Euro (B+B for both). It was such a relief to see the end of what has felt a very long day. Sleep came easily and quickly to the both of us.