Day 35: Trento to Rivalto: Out of the ditch and into Grampie Heaven

August 25, 2015

Dodie was saying last night that I came to Europe - a place of history, culture, and amazing landscapes and people and all I care about, or write about is food. Hmmm, maybe true. So here is my abbreviated report of breakfast at our three star Italian hotel: It was sort of like Germany, but subtly twisted. The most twisted thing was that while they did provide ham and maybe prosciutto, and cheese, the cheese was Kraft slices in plastic. Ack! The second thing was the number of "cups" of coffee I needed to spirit away to fill my thermos. Finally, the buns were really tiny. I think they have to be tiny to get washed down by the tiny coffee. Overall, though, pretty good, including a yummy nectarine.

Dodie did a great job of figuring out where we were, and leading the way to the old town, its Dom and its Square (errm, Piazza). Our general impression of the old town was of large palaces, with pastel colours, very attractive. Marble seems to be much in evidence, and a one spot we noted that even the sidewalk was marble.

Italians seem to love mushrooms, or this is really mushroom season.

Attractive buildings oin a street adjoinng the Dom square

Some buildings are just pastel coloured, but others have frescoes

Here is a frescoe detail. Many are badly weathered

The multicoloured buildings in old Trento

The info panel outside the Dom was, as usual, quite complicated. I am putting a shot of it in here to give the idea. On of the main things we noticed was the finger bone of Saint Paolina (1865-1942). I am not sure what her claim to sainthood was, but apparently she is currently available to intercede on your behalf. Hang on, Dodie is currently reading the Italian language card on her that she picked up - ok, the saint founded the Little sisters of the Immaculate Conception, and died in Sao Paulo Brazil. (Internet permitting, we will check that!).

The marble floors of the church were also very zippy, and there was an unusual staircase cut into one wall. Overall, impressive!

Inside the Dom, the finger bone of the saint

We now feel like we are south enough to have buildings no longer with any German/Austrian influence. That is, they are free to be fairly crumbly, and for that, picturesque. We think the French actually have a lock on truly crumbly and picturesque, but here is pretty good. Overlaid on that is a certain Renaissance flair, that of course we expect to see many fold multiplied in Verona and then Venice.

Back out on the trail, the big thing was the grapes. Apples have dropped away to nothing, and been replaced by grapes, grapes, grapes. It's rather cruel for this luscious fruit to be hung right in front of our noses. In general, of course, we don't want to mess with it, but a small taste here and there is necessary, especially of there is a slightly different shade of purple coming up. The grapes are so sweet and sugary that the cost of trying them (other than a stint in Italian prison) is sticky fingers. We are not carrying enough water to provide for this extra cleaning load.

A modern building in Trento. Would we still travel 13,000 km to get here to just see things like this?

Unique apple training method in which the tree tops are turned back down

As the day wore on and our breakfast wore off, we became more aware that there was no easy source of food, either trailside, or in the little towns. Yes, there was an occasional restaurant, and even what they call a Bici Grill, which to us is a Radler Treff (cyclist's Snack Bar). But all of these would involve using time to sit down at a table. Grampies may be slow, but they also almost never stop!

Something other than grapes with the power to keep us going (and much more legal) was trailside prune plums, and then the appearance of wild figs, growing in the margin between the bike path and the river. The figs were fully ripe, and really helped.

Statue on the village church - usally figures like this are stepping on a disconsolate looking dragon, but here the religious figure seems to have gotten the better of the king, or "crown"

Picking of grapes has begun - again we note - all by hand, seemingly by family gorups

Roadside figs. Later I got better at picking them without damage

We realized that there was no way we were going to reach Verona today. We did consider running really long and getting there very late, but with no knowledge of the town and nowhere firm to stay, we abandoned that plan. (We did fire up Trivago to see if we could spot somewhere in Verona to be aiming for, but the 3G internet we have is just too weak to get anywhere with the booking services.)

With no camping in sight on our maps, we went to plan B. We would keep an eye open for an Albergo (B and B), and failing that, we would pitch our tent in the best wild spot we could find. Of course, great wild spots came and went while it was still to early to consider stopping. A great wild spot is shaded, secluded, and has mowed grass, a table, and a garbage can. Tough as these requirements are, we did spot quite a few, as I say, when we did not need them.

We watched the sun sinking toward the mountain, as kept passing through little villages.Sometimes we saw a sign that seemed to indicate a place to stay, but they always petered out. We were happy when we came to an Albergo with a clear sign on the front. Unfortunately, it was shut tight. Closed on Tuesdays. Go figure.

Now we lowered our standards a little, and descended into an area by the river that was a nature preserve. We figured it was a no camping zone, and later saw a sign with a bunch of prohibitions, that included camping. But we decided not to stay, mainly because it seemed a little damp.

Though the valley and mountains and villages are much the same, we are getting closer to major population centres and see traffic worthy of a US Interstate.

Heading into the bush to wild camp. Later, we changed our minds and carried on.

This village did have one Albergo - closed on Tuesdays!

The Agritourismo Palazzo - we checked it out on the off chance it would have a place to stay

We were now getting ready to pitch right beside the trail, when Dodie spied a building standing on its own over a small bridge. A small sign on it said "Agritourismo Palazzo". As expected, it was locked tight. But, there was a phone number on the front. I dialed it, but before I could see if the phone was going to work or not, a man appeared from a gated courtyard. Things snowballed from there - a lady came out the front door - and we came to understand that this husband and wife were running a farm based hostel. The place, in fact, was magnificent, with a huge stone arched covered space filled with tables. The couple spoke no English at all, but they did have a bit of German. We determined that a room and breakfast could be had for 60 euros. Sold! But when the lady saw our tent, she showed us a grassy enclosed yard, just beside the courtyard with the tables, power, lights, and door into an area with a bathroom. Grampie heaven. 20 euros (with breakfast)!

The very friendly and helpful lady at the Agritourismo Palazzo - gabbling in Italian and fractured German. Somehow we understood each other enough to make satisfactory arrangements.

The wonderful covered area - is ipen to the terrace on one side

Tomorrow we will be in Verona, and figure out our next move. But right now, sitting in what really does feel like a renaissance palace, in a courtyard filled with lemon trees, this Italian journey seems right out of a movie.

Today's ride: 65 km (40 miles)
Total: 1,779 km (1,105 miles)

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