Going Off Coarse: Panicale to near Tenral.

April 12, 2015

I wasn't hanging around this morning, seeing that my olive grove campsite is overlooked by houses on all sides. I pack a condensation soaked tent and get underway at ten to eight. The road immediately sweeps down through a land of bright green and yellow low horizontal sun, into dark shade of a hill, instantly feeling like being in an icebox. I now know why I don't like starting this early.

My road, the road to Mancione, turns right across a valley then right again at the next junction. On this later stretch I hear rapid stabbing Italian chatter fast closing in behind. Sunday morning club cyclists, they whirl by in a two-abreast echelon, each issuing a chao greeting; and one even says more formally, ah buon giorno.

Reaching Mancione in time for a morning coffee stop, find a medium size town with a flower market in the central streets, a shut supermarket opposite and no open cafes on the main uphill through route, so continue on climbing. The road turning toward a formidable wall of pine forest looming beyond town, which isn't saying much, as Italy is a bugger for steep hills.

And another thing about here is there's no straight road going south, where I want. I'm spending a hell of a time zigzagging from east to west and vice-versa.

With a face that told of pain and anxiety of the slow grind up a strip of asphalt between pleasant fragrant pine trees, a cyclist catches me up and drawing level, talks to me slowly in Italian so I can follow using my Spanish comprehension. He asks the obvious questions and tells me about an enduro event he organises: a three day mountain bike race where riders must carry all they'll need, including small tent and sleeping-bag. He continues for a while; a welcome distraction, but I am glad to let him go when he rides on, as it is hard to think, talk in a foreign language and ride uphill simultaneously.

I do find a café open in the next small village. Full of all the locals shouting boisterous greetings across the street at passer-byes. And a nun walks pass, so the village also has a convent.

Spent over half an hour sat out front with my notebook, having eaten a ham sandwich with my cappuccino.

Riding on I had thought the road was for levelling out, but there's more climbing. I round a hairpin bend through widely spaced pine trees, pass a picnic place with tables: a perfect place to camp and as always, come upon about noon or when it is far too early to stop for the day.

About twenty minutes later, nearing the summit of the mountain, there's yet more picnic tables in wide level pine-needle and cone carpeted plots between mature trees; another great campsite and even though it is such a short time after my coffee stop, I decide to lunch here: it coming up on one o'clock and there may not be as nice a place ahead.

The descend come steeply and I've to brake a lot as the road surface is an assault coarse of potholes and melted tar lumps and ridges.

My road is south west toward Orvieto. Nine kilometres from the town, there's a junction, a road coming up at an acute angle on the left, signposted Todi. I pause looking at the map, considering what way is best. Then decide left and so change direction, south east, descending more into a deep hollow with no way out but up.

After a third ascent of the day to the walled citadel, Todi, it's getting late and the modern town sprawls out for many kilometres along my chosen road onward to Terni, which ends at a big interchange roundabout and autostada. There is a small road on, signpost to a village three kilometres away. From this village there's a sign on for Terni and a narrow rolling road across open farmland ahead. A sigh of relieve but not for long as beyond the crest of the first rise, where there is a copse of trees and I think campsite, I discover a house beside those trees. And the countryside on and on has houses just about on every rise or unproductive land. Then there's two villages to pass through. I am riding with my lights on by the time I reach a rough unused field without human habitation nearby.

Descending toward Todi on the hilltop to the right.

Small riverside village at base of hill with citadel and town of Todi on top.

Later by dusk, having left the modern sprawl of Todi: I thought there would be lots of camping possibilities beyond that rise, but discover farmland and houses and more houses with windows looking out, patrolling every spot of countryside.

But eventually after riding a lot further than I planned, I come to this field, neither cultivated nor pasture and open to the road up by the pylon with no houses in the vicinity.

Today's ride: 118 km (73 miles)
Total: 2,585 km (1,605 miles)

Rate this entry's writing	Heart	0
Comment on this entry	Comment	0