Gerry Hat-Trick

Everyone says so. Seriously.  I checked the tripadvisor reviews after we got back, and getting on for half said exactly that. They’re not wrong, Brian. Jens found the place online. Reputed to be an experience as well as a great munch. Hundreds of reviews, overall score 4.9. Never seen the like. Fully deserved. A one […]

“Tomorrow will be a doddle.” After crossing the spine of Italy, we were quite looking forward to a day of long, gentle descent to Ancona. No real climbing, no serious lumps on the wiggleometer, not even any great distance. Probably there not long after lunch; plenty of time to explore what Jens’s friend Paulo said

A few more, from the last week or so.

Day two of our descent from the Tuscan hills to the sea, and the first discovery is that the hills of Perugia are just as beautiful. Actually I tell a lie: our first discovery is that the bread shop doesn’t open on a Sunday morning. Dare we stretch to a seven euro breakfast at the

Another soggy day. Not sure if it’s this Storm Babet that seems to be laying waste to most of Europe, but whatever it is it’s awful wet where we’ve been, but thankfully not cold. Still takes the edge off things but. Apparently we’ve been passing through some of the loveliest scenery in Italy, but it’s

Sometimes it’s the room that’s calling the shots. Today’s choice was between 56k and about one of elevation, or a tad over 80, with about two and a half. The former was too feeble, the latter decidedly challenging: we’ve done the distance before, and the elevation, but never in combination. But after recent exploits, and

Part one didn’t start well. I opened the shutters and yelped. Rain! We had been warned, and yet I yelped.  Then it got worse. 20 downhill minutes and Jens pulled over for a voicemail. It was quite hard to make out apparently, standing in the rain on the roadside, but eventually it appeared that despite

A few recent pics of this that and the other from the first week or so of our trip.

…and into the hills of Tuscany. By way of long, winding roads: nothing too steep, nothing really hard, but on and on and on, with the occasional monster-truck laden with marble from the quarries or vast cargos of timber, to the point where by late afternoon I for one was finding my enthusiasm for the