You will all be relieved to hear that I survived a journey by train. It was touch and go and rather alarming. In case you don’t know about trains, they are huge, hissing, rattling things, our one didn’t bite us but it was obviously capable of eating a small dog whole. Penny wasn’t a bit worried but I am a very cautious dog. We only survived by sitting on our humans and distracting ourselves by flirting with a very nice Italian couple sitting opposite.

After a short distance we got off at a place called Cinque Terre, our humans told us that there are five villages built on terraces at the bottom of a cliff on this bit of coastline joined by a footpath and that we were planning to walk some of the footpath.

As you may know, Penny is a very keen walker but I am not quite as enthusiastic, I don’t mind a short hike, followed by lunch and a sleep in the sun but personally I think walking is a bit overrated. I was very relieved when ‘He’ told us that part of the footpath was closed for repairs so we could only do the first section but alarm bells should have rung when he mentioned that there was an alternative high footpath over the top of the cliff.

The coastal path between the first two villages was easy and covered in tourists from America who all thought that Penny and I were the best dogs they’d ever seen and stopped to fuss us. I generously rolled onto my back at every opportunity and allowed the Americans to rub my tummy, which they seemed to think was “delightful/gorgeous/so sweet etc.”.

The path between the first two villages was about a kilometer, a nice distance in my opinion. We had a stroll round the village; they have tables on the street out here, a practice I approve of because I can usually stretch my lead far enough to dive under a table if I see a speck of food.

We sat overlooking the sea and I scrounged lunch off my humans and was just settling down for a pleasant siesta in the sun, when ‘He’ said. “Right where is the start of the high path?” Next thing I know I’m off up a sheer, scrambly path and the village is far below us. We walked seven miles and ascended 1200 feet, which is too much for a little dog with short legs who just wants to eat some gorgonzola and sleep in the sun.

Nia at Riomaggiore

March 21st….We took the train 15 miles or so down the coast from Levanto….(in company it seemed with half the Italian navy….haven’t they got any boats?, or were they watching us?), Colin not impressed with the train. We disembarked at Riomaggiore, the southernmost of the five villages which make up the Cinque Terre. These are five ancient settlements clinging to the steep coast and joined by low coastal walkways attached to the cliffs, along which we were planning to walk. However the links between the northernmost 4 villages had been washed away by recent heavy rains, leaving the only paths the high ones.

We walked the first walkway to Manarola, then took the high path along the top of the cliffs, and along the vine terraces, to Corniglia, from where we got the train back to Levanto.

Alley in Riomaggiore

Riomaggiore

Landing Stage Riomaggiore

Nice rock strata...can Prof.C Robertson say something sensible about them?

This is the walkway leading from Riomaggiore to the next town..Manarola

Nia at Manarola

Base camp, about to ascend to the cliff top. Colin took this pic.

On the way up. Guess who is taking a quick breather.

Looking back at Manarola.

Looking ahead to Corniglia.

Towards the top of the path.

Vine terraces by the Path.

Walking along the terraces.

Cinque Terre Lizard. Sunbathing.

On the way down to Corniglia.

The day we arrived in Levanto, we cycled up the coast to Framura, along a cycle path which runs along a disused railway line.

It is unusual for being largely within a tunnel, with short sections giving a view of the coast, and a break half way at the village of Bonassola.

Tunnel entrance

View from Framura

At the end there is a cycle lift, which transports cycles/dogcart/dogs down to a small harbour.

From the harbour you can cycle up the hillside, via the dreaded Italian hairpin bends, until the pins give out (about 500 feet in the case of the Jennings’ pins).

This is Levanto, about 8 miles down the coast from Deiva Marina.

Camping Aqua Dolce. There was a pizzeria close to our pitch, so the cook pretty much went on strike for the duration. Staff!

Local Flora

The local church…13th Century.

Part of the medieval walls which surrounded Levanto in days bygone. The castle is described in the wall plaque as a “4 sided cylinder” This unusual nomenclature derives from an old Italian school of geometry known as geometrio allo vino, started by Antonio Pythagorio (a relative of Pythagoras) in the 2nd century.

Breakfast in the sun after a night sampling the fleshpots of Alba. These are vinyards surrounding the village of Barbaresco, where we had planned to stop the night, so as to allow some serious wine tasting. Sadly the promised motorhome parking place had vanished, and all the tasteries were shut, so we up sticked and headed for the coast; a campsite in Deiva Marina…a bit to the south of Genoa. Mavis in Deiva Marina. Looking east from the coast at Deiva. This stretch of the Italian coast is very mountainous, with roads, railways and houses crammed in to a thin coastal strip. The major roads spend much of their time in tunnels (could I have put that better?)

Penny unfazed by minor tsunami on Deiva beach.

Most of the restaurants were shut in Deiva so we ambled back for a gourmet chilli con carne, cooked by Nia Gordon Ramsay Jennings.

Ah..Italian…that mellifluous, yet complex, lingo. Its not just a question of adding o or i  to English words, as the Missus suggested. A largo vino is , I think , a lake of wine, not a large wine. But it does convey a sense of the request.

Vegetarians in particular please note; gatto means cat….this is important if you want to order cake for pudding.

Some words are easy…..spaghetti, chianti, gorgonzola…and we can now ask for two glasses of wine…due bicchiela vino….(spelling not guaranteed correct, pronounced with a hard c), after much diligent practise and repetition.

Today we drove to Saluzzo, for a walk through the old city then lunch of fresh bread and gorgonzola, scoffed in the carpark of a supermarket on the outskirts of the city. Supermercatos, as they call them, are dead useful for motorhomers as they are often the only possible parking in a town or city,  as well as being free, well signposted and an ideal place to pig out on the foreign delicacies acquired within.

We journeyed on to an urban campsite in Alba for the night and walked in to the centre to explore, visit the tourist office, (where we acquired directions to a campsite in the middle of a small wine growing village…Barbaresco…sadly not actually existent)…and then sampled the local spaghetti carbonara washed down with several bicchieri of the local vino blanco. Spiffing.

Gatto de Saluzzo. I thought this gatto had a distinct resemblance to a famous historical figure. Possibly his reincarnation. Princess N disagrees, and thinks I am as mad as a hamster. Please comment accordingly if you agree with me. Any dissenters please don't feel you have to engage in the debate.

The lake next to the campsite in Avagliana

The campsite was shut when we arrived but after sitting in front of the gates for a few minutes, looking forlorn, a much pierced and tattooed Italian took pity and let us in…said they would open up for us. A bit disorganised…the first electricity supply we tried had a live-earth polarity reversal…not ideal…. but the second was just a live-neutral reverse….we have a lead to deal with this.

The site is between two lakes..the largos grande and piccolo

The larger lake

We took the hounds for a walk around the lakes. This is the larger of the two, where we stopped for a spectacular drop of the local vino blanco. So good that I asked the barman to write the name down.

We walked on, stopped to watch a game of baseball. After a dozen or so pitches, with none of which the batsman ( baseball bat…..batman?…batmen?) connected, we got bored on moved on, to Avagliano tower. This was a shadow of its former self, having been destroyed by Henry Vth (not ours…another one), several hundred years ago. Presumably the burghers (not how he pronounced it) of Avagliana had been getting up his nose. It was originally built by Guido the hairless in about the 5th century.

Penny the hairy scampered up the final steel steps to the top of the tower then had a panic attack, couldn’t get down, and had to be rescued.

We are having a little trouble with the Italian wifi….a bit slow, so we are slightly behind log wise.

However…on the 16th we had an exciting day traversing the Southern Alps…up to 2,500 metres, dodging glaciers, polar bears and etc. and arrived safely in a little site just over the Italian border, in a pine forest.

Thursday 15th March

Lac d’Orient to Lyon

We travelled 200 miles south using the autoroute and arrived at Les Porte du Beaujolais outside Lyon in brilliant sunshine.

We took les chiens pour une cycle ride by the river. We met a delightful man juggling and Peter got a French juggling lesson.

Today we are setting off for Italy – through the Col de Larche