Look, I know many of you have been curious about me and Isabelle. And I’m aware I haven’t been talking much about her or the situation between us. For many reasons. Partly because I’m shy to discuss private feelings openly, and partly because it’s been such an on/off rollercoaster at times that whatever I said one day would've changed by next week anyway. Plus some attempts to write about things were not met with grace.
Now I can say with certainty that I will be continuing this tour alone. Beyond that, I don’t really have very much to discuss this time either. The idea of writing about things seems kind of exhausting. Let’s just say that the good thing about having your heart broken is discovering that at least there is a heart in there.
On the plus side, touring alone has its benefits. First of all, I no longer need to slow down and constantly adjust my speed or schedule. This means I don’t have to spend much time in uninteresting areas (the landscape has been very inhabited lately) and can stay longer in the nice photogenic parts. Just like in the beginning of the trip. The next great destination: the mountains in North Italy.
Also, June has been quite hot and it's only getting worse next month. So the experience of cycling during the day varies somewhere between uncomfortable and terrible. Which is also the scale range for Italian traffic. To fix these issues, I can now choose to cycle throughout the night on nice empty roads in cool weather, then sleep during the day somewhere in the shade. This sounded like a fitting plan.
So I continued north along the Via Francigena, mostly through farmland, small villages and bigger towns. From Pietrasanta I followed the sea, only to discover a ridiculous 20km stretch of straight road dedicated almost entirely to night clubs. And of course it happened to be around midnight on a weekend. The dedicated bicycle path was often entirely blocked by a horde of drunken party people. Girls in their skimpy dresses and guys with their equivalent peacock feather displays. Modern humans with their strange mating rituals. I couldn’t wait to get to the Dolomites.
Whenever there were big hills or mountains ahead, I would make sure to climb them by sunrise and camp somewhere near the top. In the late afternoon or evening I could just roll downhill to the next village for breakfast and to stock up on supplies and enjoy the non-sweaty pedalling for the rest of the night.
I still met a few people here and there. A nice cafe owner interested in my journey and bicycle. A lovely lady who let me shower in her home, when I stopped at a bar to ask for a place to swim or bathe. In another cafe a man was so impressed with my trip that he wanted to pay for the cappuccino I was drinking - I had to decline because his friend had already paid for it. Everyone had the same reaction to my plans: “You are crazy!"
One meeting was more worrying. While resting halfway through a 1000 meter climb at 1am, I was scared by footsteps in the dark. A guy was walking on the mountain road without a headlight or backpack. He said he'd missed the bus some hours earlier. For a moment I was worried he was eyeing my bike, but it turned out he had no bad intentions. When leaving, he told me to be careful with the wild animals - he had seen two wolves following him at sunset. “But the pigs are even more dangerous.”
Wild animals and humans aside, cycling in the dark can be a relaxing cathartic experience, allowing time for thinking. Exactly what I needed. Navigating was easy when I didn’t even have to avoid the main roads.
And if I got lost, I would just let the fireflies show me the way.