Tremollo to Gropello Cairoli – 8.1 miles in 4 hours
You should see us trying to communicate. In these small villages English is not spoken. We use a mixture of English and Spanish hoping something will click.
Last night at dinner we were trying to derive what type of meat was on the pasta. Resorting to sounds we all mooed. The waitress giggled and in perfect English retorted “Bambi”. It was delicious.
Giuseppe uses a translation app on his phone and communicates perfectly.
I think our brains knew we had a short walk and shut down our bodies right out of the chute.
Bill said “Instead of posting photos of this day just tell people to look at yesterday’s photos.” Think Groundhog’s Day.
Rice fields, irrigation canals and cute towns.
The mosquitos are back!!! If you stop to take a photo the flies and mosquitos will take you down and eat you alive. Especially by the piles of poo!
Pheasant tracks galore.
Beautifully overcast most of the day.
Life is easy peasy on a Pilgrimage. The guys figure out how far to go and where we’re sleeping. We eat, walk, buy cigars, walk, eat, walk and eat. Chit chat. Walk alone. Walk in groups. Simplicity at its best
We now lie on the bed in the Hotel Motel Flower (no lie).
Our hallway tonight:
Our hallway the night before:
Roxanne’s post and photos:
Another fine day walking through fields of rice cultivated in Italy since the 15th Century.
Irrigation canals
The town of Garlasco
In the town of Tromello
It rained last night which made for a wet but pillowy soft walk on the grassy trail. The foggy sunrise was magical and just a tiny bit eerie.
Quickly our shoes became soaked.
Today there were two train crossings. At the first one Chappy became impatient waiting so he crossed the tracks only to tell us no train was coming….. blah, blah, blah.
He didn’t cross early at the second train.
For those who have asked we have seen pilgrims everyday but yesterday.
Tonight we’re sleeping at Hotel Dica di Tromello and Giuseppe is our host
Roxanne’s photos:
Rice mill.
11.2 miles and 6 hours.
Then teetered on the shoulder of a busy road and timely jay walked as a police car pulled up to the intersection. They smiled and shook their heads in disgust.
This lead to a gravel road that meandered through fields of corn and rice which soon became fields of neglect. It was hot and humid. Gravel is a bugger to walk on for any length of time. It surely conditions every single muscle from the knees on down.
A pizza and salad lunch was in the cute town of Palestro. You know what they say about eating your way through Italy. Good golly we surely can’t be walking enough to offset the calories.
Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock – all playing at different times like Row Row, Row Your Boat. The cadence of walking sticks. Apparently, 4 out of 5 hikers recommend them. However when going down steep muddy trails the remains 20% wish they had them. I love the sound. It’s harmony to my ears.
We strolled into the heart of Robbio where a bunch of men were visiting outside the local cafe. They were excited to see us pilgrims and wanted to know where we were from and told us we’d be staying across the way. However the lady who was to let us in the donativo (donation only dormitory) told us we only have a reservation for one not five. When asked if there was another place in town they all chit chatted amongst themselves and the gal got on the phone to arrange for us to stay in another donativo four kilometers away. One of the men kindly offered to drive us there in his van.
This is what an evening looks like. Laundry, bar, C rated movie in Italian, killing flies, visiting, drinks and more food!
Farm Houses.
Rice.
After witnessing the beautiful church in Cavaglià Bill and I thought Darrell and Roxanne might like to see the Duomo.
We saw, ate, gelato(ed), haircut(ed), ate, drank, ate and are going to bed quasi early.
We’re staying the night in Milan then hopping on an early train back to Vercelli to start the Via again.
Roxanne’s post and photos:
We decided the previous evening that if we could find a store we’d buy snacks for dinner – retire early and start at dawn to ward off walking longer in the heat. Normally dinner starts between 7:00-7:30 pm which means a late bedtime.
Bill decided it’s time for his flip flops!
Cornfields, hay, kiwi plants, rice fields and some sort of lower growing fuzzy beans were all around us. We walked briefly near the highway and along irrigation ditches full of water.
Pooped out as we crawled into Santhià.
Roxanne’s post and photos:
It’s the celebration of Saint Rocco and Bill is standing in the confetti. 
Coffee Americano
Vineyards, kiwi orchards, rice paddies, corn, farmhouses and rural roads. 
Our first stop in Iverea was at Brunchy right after the Lidl store. They had bacon and eggs!!! It was fantastic. Eggs are not typical here.
It was hot! Phew. By noon we were feeling the heat. Made each step just a bit heavier.
Verres to Borgofranco d’Ivrea – 10 miles and 6 hours with our normal stops.
Tomorrow we will officially leave the Aosta Valley where water fountains (not like home – these are large granite tubs per se where water constantly flows out a faucet and is used for drinking and washing) are found just around every corner and there’s water, water and water – gushing, falling and meandering.
Constantly finding ourselves with grins on our faces as we marvel in the sheer beauty of Italy. Some of the details… most homes have flower boxes bubbling over with color. If there’s space there’s a garden. Walls are decorated. The vineyards are geometric works of art. The old stone buildings (be still my heart) tell stories. Roofs are made with heavy and huge rock tiles – the best have some rusting around the edges. There’s so much more for later…
Bill – Your kisses are sweeter than hône.
Sadly the view from our room (above) is of a 2000 year old year Roman Bridge. Hope the actual white noise from the flowing river doesn’t keep us awake tonight.
Roxanne’s photo:
The staff treated us so kindly and felt like family. It’s the Italian way.
13.3 miles and another 2,600 feet decline in elevation.
Our day was somewhere written in a fable. Rolling farm land lush with vegetables, pasture and alfalfa. Belled cows sounding like chimes blowing in the wind. Fruit trees heavy with fruit. Charming villages. Winding tree lined paths laden with pine needles. Fast flowing irrigation boxes rushing with excitement. Stream beds flowing in utter silence.
Thank goodness for the surrounding beauty because every elevation change (however minute) hurt our weary legs. Yesterday’s descent was brutal.
It is Roxanne’s birthday and we’re all celebrating.
