Turino Region. Penultimate Italian night camped up in Asti. Home to the famous “Spumanti”. Twenty-one local family grape-growers give us nothing to celebrate after today’s frustrating journey.
A sluggishly slow start to our day leaving Levanto. Our general direction finds us creeping and crawling our way up, over and around mountain after mountain. I’m sure a Swiss man came up with the Toblerone shape after a vacation in this area. Each mountain peak huddled and hemmed in by a throng of mini peaks. It’s strange how your mind-set can easily influence the joys or not of a journey. We try not to feel like we’re late for an important meeting. The morning sees us average 30Km per hour and we have just over 200Km to clock. So it’s not easy to relax. No time to stop and enjoy a moment’s view. There are so many. Haven’t we seen enough already? Hopefully the afternoon will bring some respite. It does – sort of.
Missy, our Co-Pilot, has had few mini meltdowns. She’s done well overall. We think the Italian roads are starting to get the better of her though. (For us it’s the Italian drivers) Caused we think by tunnel vision. That’s when she loses contact with her space-born controlling constellation. She gets discombobulated on exiting tunnels. Arms sent spinning as if in a game of blind man’s bluff. Blindly searching for silent signals. Frantically feeling her way forward, or backwards, or sideways. Sending us likewise until it’s too late. Today is not one of her best. Another wrong turn sends us down a blind alley of sorts. Faced with a 2.5metre high bridge leaves Beastie no option but to halt and somehow U-turn.
30K further and she’s gone and undone us again. This time put us onto a wrong main road. I move too soon. Worried about the traffic. Don’t get Beastie in just the right position to reverse into a narrow side track that looks as if it hasn’t had a vehicle pass its way for a decade or so. Think I’m OK. As I pull away a car (of all things) just happens to want to turn in. Can you B-believe it. I rush the manoeuvre and Beastie’s backside thwacks the banking. Taking with it a pile of dirt and grit that’s now embedded into a cracked bumper!
Are we glad to reach our base for tonight. Half an hour of evening sun is left on our side of the valley. Just enough time to release our pent-up selves from the day’s aggravations. The local landlords’ plots please.
Tuesday 24th and we’re currently one of only two “Brit” campers parked up at Camping Gran Bosco. Not where we intended. Apart from maddening road detours, we earlier discovered our planned over-nighter doesn’t re-open until 19th December. (we’re close to ski territory)
The scenery is stunning (we think). The air is thick with misty smoke that’s drifted this way. After effects from severe mountain fires 28K down the road at Bussoleno. Still smoking as we passed. Some households lost to the blaze.
