Via Francigena: Day 27: Valpromaro To Lucca

The next day Benji and I walked the short distance (15 km) from Valpromaro to Lucca. I'm afraid I can't remember much about the landscape in-between, as we were deep in conversation and I'm hopeless at multi-tasking. But I know it was beautiful, for it was Tuscany, after all. However, I do vividly recall the fine approach to the city along the bank of the river Serchio. This brought to mind other watery pilgrim routes into cities — such as the Canal du Midi into Toulouse and the Aisne-Marne Canal into Reims. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

Walled and moated Lucca is a very old settlement — dating back to Etruscan times — and I liked it a lot. We arrived at lunchtime, so had plenty of time to explore. Our accommodation was provided free of charge by a Catholic fraternity, the Misericordia di Lucca — a cosy room with bathroom and cooking facilities right in the centre of town. This we shared with Margarethe, another pilgrim from Germany. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

Later we had a meal together, strolled along the outer wall of this wonderful city, then ended up listening to an open-air concert of Celtic music. On the way back to our room we crossed this charming square, the Piazza dell'Anfiteatro — the site of an ancient Roman amphitheatre. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.) 

The column of the Madonna dello Stellario. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

The Cathedral of San Martino — note the Carrara marble again. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

Detail from the cathedral's portico. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

Medieval labyrinth embedded in the right pier of the portico. Apparently you are supposed to place your finger at the entrance and trace the correct path to the centre — with your eyes shut! (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

The Basilica of San Frediano. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

The tree-sprouting Guinigi Tower. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

The Church of San Michele in Foro. Just magnificent! (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

Via Francigena: Day 26: Marina Di Massa To Valpromaro

The white-marbled Cathedral of Saint Martin in Pietrasanta. A brickwork bell tower stands alongside. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

It seems incredible now, but on Day 26 I walked nearly 40 km — two stages in one day. This was partly because I had company, and the hours raced by as we chatted. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

I'd diverted slightly from the Via Francigena to get to my B&B in Marina di Massa, but in the morning the B&B owner directed me back on course. I soon arrived at Capanne, where I took a quiet minor road towards Strettoia. A big hill intervened and I began climbing. At a lay-by on a bend in the road a seated figure watched me approach. This turned out to be Benji, a young German pilgrim from Berlin, also heading for Rome. We agreed to walk together, and talked incessantly all the way to Pietrasanta. He was just twenty years old, but mature beyond his years, and spoke excellent English. I remember that we passed several marble factories and saw stone being cut by machine in the open air — constant jets of water cooled down the process. I'd originally intended stopping the night in Pietrasanta, but it was only lunchtime, so I decided to carry on, and after a few hours caught up Benji who'd gone ahead.   

Pietrasanta's Cathedral Square by night. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

The countryside was lush and very pretty. It was also varied, with a pleasing mixture of hill and valley, small town and village, forest and open farmland. Oh, beautiful Tuscany . . .

It was late afternoon when we finally reached Valpromaro. There was an open door on our right halfway down the main street. We peered inside and were immediately greeted by an exceptionally friendly and welcoming pilgrim reception committee. The warm hospitality continued all evening, with speeches and gifts and a fine dinner at a long, communal table. Quite honestly I'd never experienced anything quite like it. Here I also met for the first time the Swiss couple from Lausanne in whose footsteps I'd been following — until that time they'd always been a couple of days ahead.

I was given this personal momento of Valpromaro by my kind and enthusiastic hosts at the hostel. As you can see, I was their 552nd pilgrim this year. 

Via Francigena: Day 25: Sarzana To Marina Di Massa

From Sarzana the official Italian Alpine Club route took a difficult and tiring course through the Apennine foothills. I decided to take the flatter and easier coastal option — via roads, pavements and cycle paths — to Marina di Massa. This route was not waymarked, but simple to follow — though the initial section, from Sarzana to the sea, was horrendously busy with fast-moving traffic. I did not make the short detour to see the Roman temple and amphitheatre at Luni (see photo), but now wish I had done.

As you can see, the coastline was heavily built up with harbours and seaside resorts. At Carrara the marble quarries had stained the mountains white . . .  

Marble has been extracted here since the Bronze Age, and many monuments and sculptures from Roman and Renaissance times were constructed with Carrara marble — Michelangelo being the famous example.  

Quarrying is still going on today, but it's quite controversial for environmental reasons. Much of the quarried stone is cut and polished and ends up in expensive luxury mansions all over the world: the pristine whiteness, the fine grain and the purity of the rock make it particularly coveted. 

Marina di Massa . . .

. . . is a popular holiday resort. However, I shunned the crowded beaches and walked inland a short way to Via Pandolfino and the B&B Cambini, which was a beautiful old family home. My room was most comfortable with a balconied view over the garden; at €30 (including breakfast next morning) it was excellent value. That evening, after a hot shower and a pizza, I was content for the moment, although news from home was causing me some concern, and I was worried about having to curtail my journey . . .

Not snow but marble: mountain backdrop from the pier at Marina di Massa.

(Thanks to Wikimedia Commons for the photos.)

Via Francigena: Days 22, 23 & 24: Passo Della Cisa To Sarzana

Pontremoli. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

Three days of strenuous walking took me 70 km from the col to Sarzana, which was positioned near the mouth of the river Magra and overlooked the Ligurian Sea (part of the Mediterranean).

At the Passo della Cisa I walked under the Porta Toscana's wooden archway (any portal or gateway like this may be considered a pilgrim rite of passage) and descended 500 m through cool and shady forests to Groppoli. Here the path climbed relentlessly upwards 200 m, then down again 400 m to Pontremoli. The way was beautiful, with many flowers and vineyards, but tiring in the heat, and at midday I was getting low on water. Also I had no food and was running out of energy. However, by a stroke of extreme good luck, a mobile grocery van happened to stop at a small and remote village I was passing through, and I was able to stock up on supplies. I came across no other shop all day, and without this van I would have been struggling. The van driver only called there once a week, and then for just 15 minutes. Either this was an incredible piece of good fortune or the guiding spirit of the Camino was looking after me . . . After buying bread, cheese and prosciutto, I was given a free bunch of grapes, then ate a lazy lunch in a field on the edge of the village — after which I promptly fell asleep. Yes, life was good . . .

Finally I reached Pontremoli and ascended wearily the narrow streets of the old quarter to the castle of Piagnaro, which dominated the town. I spent the night in a refuge in one of the towers.

Aulla. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

Another long day of mountain walking brought me to Aulla and the abbey of San Caprasio. The resident monks have a long tradition of putting up pilgrims. I enjoyed a hot shower, then a superb meal shared with other wayfarers in a local restaurant, and later slept soundly in a dormitory bunk bed.

Reception for pilgrims at the abbey of San Caprasio. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

The route from Aulla to Sarzana was a highlight of the walk and one of its wildest sections. The path contoured the mountainsides, zigzagging around countless side valleys. At times it was very narrow and overgrown, with a steep drop to the left. You really had to watch your step. I dreamed my way through some charming hilltop villages — Bibola, Ponzano — and was completely entranced by the breathtaking mountain views.

    

Sarzana. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

At last I climbed the final hill, which was scattered romantically on top with the ruins of La Brina castle. The Mediterranean lay in front of me! I headed quickly down to Sarzana — which still, however, lay more than an hour away. Here I was welcomed — in a fashion — by a member of the parish of San Francesco. The church accommodation was rather squalid compared with the previous two nights — though still cheap at the usual price of €10, so I could not grumble.

The 15th-century fortress at Sarzana. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

Via Francigena: Days 20 & 21: Fornovo To Passo Della Cisa

The Ostello di Cassio. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

During the next two days I would walk 45 km, climb more than 1300 m and gain the border with Tuscany, one of Italy's most famous and beautiful regions.

On the first day I flirted with the river Sporzana, sometimes walking along its banks, sometimes along its dry riverbed. I came upon a bridge which had been partially destroyed by winter floods. Luckily it was not necessary to use it, as all I had to do was simply walk across the dry and stony watercourse itself. 

Waymarking suddenly became much more pilgrim friendly, and stone wayposts popped up quite regularly to confirm the path. Such welcome and reassuring signage continued into Tuscany. The route was hard going (part of it was an Alpine Club route for experienced walkers), with many steep ups and downs, but the extensive forests gave much-needed shade, and every so often stunning mountain-and-valley views opened up.

Eventually I arrived at Cassio and gratefully deposited my backpack in the Ostello di Cassio, one of the most comfortable and intriguing pilgrim hostels of the whole journey (see photo above). Each alcove, nook and cranny of the place was packed with 'stuff' — all kinds of food and drink, also ornaments and other knick-knacks. The bathroom and shower upstairs were crammed with sweet-smelling toiletries and perfumes, and the huge dining table downstairs was laden with bread and fruit, cheese and cold meats. Both this table and some smaller breakfast tables adjoining the kitchen were permanently set for meals with plates, bowls, cups and cutlery.

A few other pilgrims were already there, including a newly-married couple (she was Italian, he was Spanish), a Belgian called Marcel who had walked all the way from his homeland, and Paolo, a very tall and benign Italian cyclist. Our host was very discreet and hardly ever to be seen. We gathered there was a modest charge for the lodging, but dinner and breakfast were by donation only. Paolo volunteered to cook, and later that evening we sat down to a splendid meal of spaghetti carbonara washed down with several glasses of red wine.

       

Berceto. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

On the second day, after a lunchtime stop in the pretty little town of Berceto, I continued climbing endless forest paths throughout the afternoon until I reached the Passo della Cisa, the col which would take me from the Ligurian to the Tuscan Apennines, from Emilia-Romagna into Tuscany. (I spent the night in the Ostello della Cisa, another excellent family-run hostel on the road just before the pass.)

Chiesa di Nostra Signora della Guardia. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

Above is the pilgrim church of Nostra Signora della Guardia, which lies in a magnificent position at the top of a stone staircase rising from the pass. It's a fairly modern church — built in 1921 in a mock-Romanesque style with Gothic additions. The interior was a delight, though bordering on the kitsch.

And below is the the Porta Toscana, the wooden portal which directs the pilgrim into Tuscany and heralds the next section of the route.  

The Porta Toscana at the Passo della Cisa. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

Via Francigena: Days 18 & 19: Fidenza To Fornovo

Felegara and the river Taro. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

Early next day Giacomo accompanied me almost to the edge of Fidenza before returning to the railway station. He had to catch a train to visit his grandmother in Tuscany. After some pleasant walking I stopped for lunch in Costamezzana — which lay on a hill! Although this was hardly the Apennines yet, the countryside was more rolling and varied, and I was enjoying it immensely. I cast a look behind me at the great Po plain, and felt pleased and proud I had withstood its heat and its desolation and its biting insects without going even slightly mad (though some may dispute this). Here the upland air had a welcome freshness and a lack of oppression, though it was still very warm.

Lulled into a false sense of security by the lunchtime wine and pasta, I promptly took the wrong road out of Costamezzana (in my defence it was heading approximately in the right direction). I knew I'd made a mistake because the Camino signs had disappeared, and I should really have turned back, but I didn't, and I was also too lazy to pull my guide book out of my pack. This is so typical of me. 

Eventually I came across a tree-felling gang by the roadside and asked them if I was going the right way to Medesano. Apparently I was, and all I had to do was turn left at the top of the next hill and follow the road along the ridge. I did this, and at first everything went swimmingly. However, I decided rather foolishly to take a farmer's track marked 'Private Road' into the valley, where I could see a major road which I was sure would take me directly to Medesano. I hadn't reckoned with the loose dog which rushed at me from an open gate halfway along the track. This, my third scary dog encounter of the trip, was by far the worst. He was a big, Alsatian-type brute, and put on the usual display of barking and growling and baring of teeth. I held my walking pole horizontally between myself and the beast, and backed off down the lane, facing him all the while and trying to utter soothing words in a firm and steady (probably, in reality, slightly quavering) voice: 

'Now, please go away, you'll get into trouble for this, you won't like the taste of English flesh, anyhow your master's waiting for you indoors with a big bowl of pig's blood, so just, just . . . CLEAR OFF!' 

After much of this kind of negotiation I found the distance between us was increasing, and eventually I was able to turn my back on him and continue smartly down the hill . . .

           

Confluence of the river Ceno and the river Taro at Fornovo. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

Medesano was an unprepossessing place, and I was glad to leave the next morning. The way now shadowed the main road to Felegara, where a bakery shop owner/assistant made up two cheese sandwiches for me (bread shops would usually offer to make sandwiches on the spot with whatever fillings were available). I then branched left towards the river Taro and followed a delightful path along the river bank to Fornovo. I noticed that the river, which could be a raging torrent in the winter months, had all but dried up. Fornovo, a small town of 6000 inhabitants with an attractive old quarter, was situated in the foothills of the Apennines, so I knew that I would be gaining some serious height the next day. That night I slept in a B&B in Respiccio, just beyond Fornovo.

Church of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary at Fornovo. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

Via Francigena: Days 16 & 17: Piacenza To Fidenza

The Church of San Fiorenzo in Fiorenzuola. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

I left Piacenza's Piazza Cavalli the next morning encouraged by a lady on a bicycle who called out: 'Buon Camino!' The departure from Piacenza was long and unpleasant. After Piazza Roma with its Romulus and Remus statue, and the tedious suburbs of San Lazzaro and Montale, I had to risk life and limb for several kilometres on the busy highway of the SS9. There was no proper footpath, and I was actually quite frightened. I cursed the Camino planners for not devising a safer route. Finally, after a bridge over the river Nure, I took a back road and could relax. In Pontenure a street market had been set up, and a fish stall was selling fried fish and chips! It was a long time since I'd eaten this English favourite. I made the most of it and tucked in.

For the rest of the afternoon I followed a piecemeal route largely of my own making, for the way was poorly marked and the guide book unclear. The main problem was how to cross the three rivers between Pontenure and Fiorenzuola: the Riglio, the Chero, and the Chiavenna. The countryside was dead flat, and the roads dead straight, and sometimes I felt I was getting nowhere. However, with a combination of intuition, good luck and sheer persistence, I eventually ended up in Fiorenzuola's delightful main square, the Piazza Molinari, feeling a little frazzled — but very happy to have arrived.

 

Piazza Garibaldi in Fidenza. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

In the refuge near the church of San Fiorenzo I met Giacomo, a curly-haired Italian student from Modena, and later we sat in the piazza and had a couple of beers. We walked together all the next day. He was polite and charming, and we talked a great deal — his English was very good. We could now see the Apennine mountains in the distance, and this spurred us on as we continued crossing the usual agricultural flatlands. That night we slept in a tiny refuge opposite the cathedral of San Donnino in Fidenza and ate in a Catholic-run canteen providing meals for refugees, the poor and the unemployed. Afterwards, drinking beers in a posh bar, we reflected on how lucky we were.

The Town Hall and Garibaldi Obelisk in Fidenza. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

The highlight of the day had been the Cistercian abbey of Chiaravalle. Founded in 1135, it's one of the first examples of Gothic architecture in Italy. It was simply stunning, and we spent some time looking round and absorbing its peaceful atmosphere. There was plenty of the ubiquitous red brick and terracotta, and the cloister was particularly fine, with its pink marble columns fashioned like twisted rope and its exquisitely carved capitals. There were some wonderful paintings too, including Bernardino Luini's Madonna della Buonanotte. In former times the monks of Chiaravalle had developed a hard, granular cheese called grana — consequently it is them we have to thank for Gran Padano and Parmigiano Reggiano.

The abbey church of Chiaravalle. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

The church bell tower. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

Bernardino Luini's Madonna delle Buonanotte. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

Via Francigena: Day 15: Orio Litta To Piacenza

Sculpture representing the River Po in Turin. In crossing the Po I passed from Lombardy into the region of Emilia-Romagna. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

On the last day of August 2015 I walked 25 km from Orio Litta to the city of Piacenza — except that, in reality, I walked only 21 km, as 4 km was covered by boat. The previous evening in Orio Litta I'd rung Danilo, the Po river boatman, and booked a seat on his small motor launch. At 8.30 the next morning I waited for him at the Po crossing point (Transitum Padi) in Corte Sant'Andrea, the place from which pilgrims have crossed the river for centuries. He was late, and it wasn't until 8.50 that I heard the sound of an engine. Danilo seemed convinced there should have been another passenger besides myself, and he began an animated conversation on his mobile phone — but I tried to reassure him that Davide was stopping in Orio Litta an extra day to rest his legs. We sped quickly down the wide river — such a pleasant change for me — and after a few kilometres reached Soprarivo di Calendasco on the opposite bank. There was little there except for a rickety landing stage. Feeling distinctly soggy-bottomed (I'd been sitting in a pool of water on the boat), I made my way along the river bank, soon turning off across flat farmland towards Calendesco and skirting fields where the tomato harvest was in full swing.

Piazza Cavalli, Piacenza — the Palazzo Gotico is on the left. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

The urban fringes of Piacenza were not great — there was a dangerous road bridge to cross and a busy route leading to the centre through the usual edge-of-town shops and factories — so it was with relief that I finally arrived in the main square, the Piazza Cavalli (named 'Cavalli' — 'horses' — because of the two 17th-century bronze statues of Alessandro Farnese and his son Ranuccio, dukes of Parma and Piacenza, astride their stallions.)

The bronze statue of Duke Ranuccio Farnese in the Piazza Cavalli. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

The finest thing about Piacenza was the architecture of its cathedral and many of its churches, which was in a distinctively lombardian Romanesque or Romanesque-Gothic style. These were the loveliest churches I'd seen so far along the VF — by a long way. So many I'd viewed earlier were neglected, rather ugly buildings, with unappealing, high-Baroque interiors. These churches (the cathedral, the basilica of Sant'Antonino and the church of San Francesco, for example) were calming in their lack of adornment and restricted palette of colours. The simplicity of their stone arches, brick pillars and pink marble spoke to me and moved me.

The girl at the tourist office spoke to me too — in excellent English — and had soon fixed me up with a B&B for the night. The B&B owner — a retired schoolteacher — owned a splendid apartment, and was most friendly and welcoming. She spoke a tiny bit of English, and I spoke a tiny bit of Italian, so we were able to communicate — in a fashion. She showed me to my room but, when she realised how tall I was, ushered me at once into another room with a bigger bed!

Basilica Sant'Antonino, Piacenza. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.) 

Via Francigena: Days 13 & 14: Pavia To Orio Litta

Towers in Pavia. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

The main road out of Pavia was busy and dangerous, and after three or four kilometres I turned onto a quieter road with great relief. This was a hard day's walking (Day 13) and the heat was brutal. I made my way along an unstable sandy track round the edge of a quarry, but when I reached the river bridge I'd been heading for beyond the quarry found that it was closed for repair (later I learnt that some pilgrims had actually climbed or circumnavigated the locked gates and managed to get across).

I felt I had no choice but to return the way I'd come. The heat was sweltering, my water supply was running low, and I was exhausted. Arriving at a minor road, I stuck out my thumb — but to no avail. What little traffic there was shot by at great speed. I gathered what little energy I still had and followed the road to its junction with the SS234, where I branched right in the direction of Corteolana and Santa Cristina. I was hungry and thirsty, and trucks roared past, leaving me with mouthfuls of dust. This was certainly a challenging part of the route. However, just when I thought I could go no further, a roadside restaurant appeared out of nowhere, and I stumbled inside for a late lunch. I eased off my boots under the table and gulped down a beer. What a relief! I stayed there till closing time — 3 pm I think it was — then reemerged into the sunlight, feeling much better. It seemed only a short distance to Santa Cristina, where I was warmly greeted by a young girl serving at a bar in the church community hall. I spent the night there in a dormitory on the first floor.

What a difference a day makes — Day 14 was far easier and much more enjoyable. There were fewer kilometres to cover and I took my time. The countryside was lush and more varied, with more trees and even a few small hills. I passed the castle of Chignolo Po . . .

        

The castle of Chignolo Po. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

. . . and rested a while in Lambrinia, where once again a couple of locals bought me a glass of wine. Crossing the river Lambro (a tributary of the Po), I then walked along its raised bank towards Orio Litta, which I could see in the distance over the rice fields.

Soon the multilingual mayor of Orio Litta was welcoming me and showing me to my quarters in the medieval grange which formed one side of the piazza Benedettina, the square of the Benedictines. This impressive 10th-century building had been modernised and fitted out to accommodate present-day pilgrims on the Via Francigena. The lift (!) was out of order, so a visit to the power showers entailed an underground journey through a basement stinking of fish — for it was festival time, and the basement had become the market traders' temporary storeroom. After a shower I ran the gamut of fish once more and was happy to eat on my bunk the slice of delicious home-made cake the mayor's wife had presented me with earlier. 

Who should turn up later but Davide, my pilgrim friend from Rome, whom I'd last seen in Pont-Saint-Martin a week ago. At 7 pm we had a meal together at a small, cheap, pilgrim-friendly trattoria in the main street. As part of the festival celebrations a singing duo performed on the makeshift stage in the square just outside our window until 3 am — so, what with the music (which became more excruciating by the hour), the biting insects and the giggling of a group of schoolgirls who had all but taken over the dormitory, we found it difficult to sleep that night . . .

Villa Litta in Orio Litta. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

Via Francigena: Days 9, 10, 11 & 12: Vercelli To Pavia

The Romanesque Church of St Peter, Robbio. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

For the next four days I would walk a further 80 km over the now familiar terrain of rice fields and irrigation ditches — with only herons and egrets for company. Not forgetting the frogs, of course — which appeared (and disappeared) as slippery streaks out of the corner of the eye. You could rarely get a proper view of them as they were so well camouflaged, and jumped so quickly into the water.

This was risotto country. To make the perfect, classic risotto, for which the Po Basin is famous, you must add Arborio (or Carnaroli or Vialone Nano) rice to onions which have been softened in butter or olive oil, then gradually stir in small quantities of white wine and stock. When the rice is cooked, top with a little butter and grated Parmesan, and then cover for two minutes.

Day 9 started cloudy, but by midday it had turned blazingly hot. In fact the heat became quite overpowering and exhausting over the coming days. Fortunately the paths and tracks were in better condition and more interesting than those of yesterday. By 2 pm I had reached Robbio, where I relaxed outside a bar and watched a street market being packed up and driven away. Many small towns and large villages have these mobile markets. A group of friendly locals bought me a beer. And later I slept in a refuge overlooking a courtyard behind the town hall.

Town hall, Mortara. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

Early on Day 10 I somehow managed to take the wrong road out of Robbio, and ended up walking back towards Vercelli for half an hour before realising my mistake!

Later that day, Mortara, too, proved a friendly place. Two men on bicycles stopped to greet me and have a chat, and in the centre of town someone bought me another drink and pointed the way to the former monastery of Sant'Albino, where I spent the night. 

This foundation has a long tradition of putting up pilgrims, which stretches back to medieval times. The woman on duty, whose job was to welcome and tend to the pilgrims, served me food and wine. Payment was by donation, as was often the case. Before she left — I was to sleep on a camp bed in the huge, barn-like dining hall — I saw her eyes fix on the wall opposite and narrow into slits. Her brow furrowed. She spluttered and cursed, rushed over to the cockroach she had spotted, flicked it to the floor, then stamped on it with a mixture of glee and embarrassment. Although the cockroach had been vanquished, there were, however, plenty of mosquitoes to plague me through the night.

A bend in the river Ticino near Pavia. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

I can't remember much about Day 11, except for the heat and the flat landscape and the pain in my feet. I do just about recall stopping in Tromello and Garlasco for beer and free bar snacks. My bed for the night was in Gropello, but the parish refuge was dismal and dirty, and I was glad to leave for Pavia in the morning.

Day 12 was the best of the four, and there was some very pleasant hiking through woods along the western bank of the river Ticino. I arrived in Pavia by early afternoon, crossing into this ancient university town by the covered bridge shown below.

The Ponte Caperto, or Covered Bridge, which spans the Ticino in Pavia. The dome of the cathedral is on the right. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

I liked Pavia a lot, and stayed at a relatively new, very smart and clean hostel located in the parish house of the church of Santa Maria in Betlem.

Via Francigena: Day 8: Santhià To Vercelli

I now tried to prepare myself mentally for a ten day trek across the flat, often monotonous plain of the Po Valley. This first day was not auspicious. The paths were wet and sticky and difficult to negotiate after the previous night's rain — and it was still raining. The distances were long, and I tired quickly. (Wikimedia image.) 

Fat brown slugs crawled underfoot and mosquitoes attacked my shoulders and the back of my neck. Just in front of of me a continual succession of frogs jumped from the canal banks and plopped into the water. And all around me groups of herons and egrets silently haunted a watery landscape of endless rice fields and irrigation channels (later I was to see a flock of sacred ibis). I passed dreary, deserted farmsteads, and met not a soul all day. (Wikimedia image.)

 I made some small navigational errors, as some of the footpath signs were confusing and some of my guide book's instructions unclear. When I finally reached Vercelli, all I wanted to do was lie down and rest my sore feet. Despite its Romano-Gothic cathedral and basilica, I was not impressed with the city, which seemed to me rather depressing and unfriendly — though perhaps this had something to do with my general mood at the time. I was dying to leave the next morning. The photo shows Vercelli's Piazza Cavour and Torre dell'Angelo. (Wikimedia image.)