Again? Not possible. Really? I thought this happened on Tuesday and here on Friday a repeat, as close to a “Ground Hogs Day” event as they come? Here we go.
The day started just as any has in the past two plus weeks, up early, breakfast, clean the apartment, pack up and get ready to leave.
We are taking the bus to Poggio Moiano, just like on Tuesday, accept this time we know the name of the bus company, downloaded their app, found their time tables and found the bus we wanted, even walked to the bus stop yesterday to verify its location. What could possibly go wrong? If luck is when preparation meets opportunity, we are in for some serious good luck.
We navigated to the chosen bus stop, arriving fully 30 minutes before our bus was scheduled to arrive. We waited patiently on the bench for the bus in the covered bus stop, Sally posting to Facebook, me sending her photos.
Our bus was to arrive at 7:41. At 7:37 a bus pulled up. About 10 people waiting for the bus cued up to get on board. Just to be sure that this wasn’t our bus, I took the last position in line and when I got to the door I asked the driver, “Questo autobus va a Poggio Moiano?” He. Said. Yes. I asked again and pointed at the bus, “Questo autobus? Poggio Moiano?” Again he said “Si”. At this time I heard a passenger near the front say, loudly, “Yes!”
I turned to Sally and said, “This is our bus, let’s go.”
She gave me a doubtful glance, hesitated even, remarking that the placard on the front of the bus didn’t say Poggio Moiano, but I was on the bus, had confirmation from the guy driving the bus and a random passenger that this bus would pass through Poggio Moiano. She climbed on board the nearly full bus.
There were not two seats together but we ended up with me right behind her. The route the bus took looked great, going exactly as expected up the correct highway.
As is Sally’s nature, she struck up a conversation with her seat mate, a man in his middle fifties. At some point in his conversation with Sally, he came to realize that we were not on the right bus. This bus was not going to go through the little community of Poggio Moiano, it was headed for Rome. It would be like the bus making the run between Seattle and Portland pulling off the freeway and driving through Winlock. Sally’s seat partner rides this bus everyday to Rome, his two hour commute. He knew it wasn’t going to stop. I asked my “Yes” passenger and he talked to the bus driver who again insisted it would stop. Sally’s friend went up to speak to the driver. This time he changed his mind and said no. ????
We were just about to pass through Osteria Nuova. The bus driver pulled into the same bus stop we did on Tuesday and told us we needed to get off here and catch another bus up to Poggio Moiano. We thanked our two helpers and exited the bus. Now we were in the same spot as two days ago. Shoot! What about all the planning and research and practicing we did? What happened to preparation meeting opportunity?
At the bus stop a kind lady pointed us toward the bus stop we needed to find, obscured behind a restaurant and a store on the next street. We had no idea at what time it came so we walked quickly and found the stop. Now what? On Tuesday this bus never showed. Do all these people kindly helping us not realize the busses are on winter schedule instead of summer?
We stood at the bus stop for 15 minutes, until about 8:20, searching on various apps on our phones trying to ascertain (1) would a bus be coming and (2) when? This morning or this afternoon? We got conflicting results from different apps. Sally decided it was time to hitchhike. I tried to dissuade her, but we had miles to hike today and no time to wait for a bus that might not come. She headed up the road to where we had hitch hiked on Tuesday, I hung back a bit so I could spot the bus I still thought might come.
Nearly zero cars were heading to Poggio Moiano, so Sally decided a taxi was the next solution and started heading toward the hardware store where we had seen a bunch of guys hanging out that could get a number for a taxi for us. I suggested we call Antonio. Not yet. Let’s figure this out ourselves. Just as we were approaching the hardware store a bus with “Poggio Moiano” on its electronic front placard rounded the corner and stopped at the bus stop. We were 50 yards away. I started to run as the bus pulled away from the curb. Some frantic hand waving on my part brought him to a stop. The door opened. “Does this bus go to Poggio Moiano?” Seemed like an obvious question since the front placard proudly stated this. He said “Si”. We climbed on board, but not before I fiddled with my phone trying to activate the tickets I had bought last night. Nothing seemed to work. The driver looked uninterested. He closed the door and started to drive off. Another free bus ride. Eight minutes later we stepped off the bus in Poggio Moiano, just a few feet from where Antonio dropped us two days earlier, but 20 minutes later. I suspect, if we had been more patient on Tuesday, this same bus would have come on that day, too. No matter, we were here, our route in front of us, another bus adventure behind us.
Where Tuesday we turned left and hiked back toward Rieti, today we turned right and hiked away from it, toward the little town of Pontecelli Sabino. All these towns sit on ridge or hill tops. The first steps out of town are always down. So it was with Poggio Moiano and we switchbacked down sidewalks between century old houses for about 300’ vertical feet. Once down,we traversed into a river drainage, crossed the creek in the bottom on an old stone bridge and started up the other side. There was a group of five men at the bottom loading a flatbed truck with what looked like racks for carrying windows. The road up the side of the valley opposite the town was paved, but impossibly steep. Covered in leaves it was borderline slippery and often we walked on the margin for better footing. When we reached the same elevation as the town’s main square we leveled off and began a couple miles of flat walking through what could only be described as a wooded neighborhood of five acre lots, each with an annoying troop of barking dogs.
Speaking of dogs, it is rare that we don’t hear one barking somewhere as we walk and nearly every house has one to bark at us as we pass. On the bright side, every dog has been properly fenced. Have not seen a dog out of the yard, period.
At one point we climbed up to a wonderful pass with four country roads intersecting there in the trees and grassy fields. We stopped here for lunch, although we had to put on our coats as the slight breeze blowing through the pass was very chilly. The temperature was 48°. We had our Donar Kebab to go for lunch. Delicious and I was glad to be rid of carrying it.
The valley we now descended into was spectacular. I can’t remember how many times we stopped to just stand and gape and admire. Olive groves, green fields, wild woods on the upper mountain slopes, stone farm houses and out buildings artfully scattered about, a castle on a hill across the valley, sun, blue sky. Perfection. I took a bunch of photos. They are all wo efully inadequate at capturing the beauty and serenity of the area.
We descended into this valley a few hundred vertical feet, then traversed on its northern flank until we came upon the town of Pontecelli Sabino. Tonight we are staying in a perigrino dormitory instead of a private apartment, however since no one else is here, we have the whole place to ourselves.
Ricardo, who has run this hostel for 15 years let us in, showed us around and suggested we build a fire in the fireplace to warm it up. There was no sign of any heating devices in the whole three story building. It was cold.
Ricardo left and I immediately set to work building a fire from the dry olive wood that was in the box next to the fireplace. Soon a fire was putting out good heat and we huddled near it to warm up. I got one of the sleeping bags I have been carrying for Sally to throw over her while in an easy chair near the fire.
After a time I went upstairs to use the bathroom (can you say cold toilet seat!!) and noticed a plugin heater. I grabbed it and put it in our room, turned it on and closed the door. I found another and put it in the bathroom. There, that’s going to be better.
Back downstairs Sally was devouring a fictional book about the Camino we were walking, the only book in English in the bookshelf.
Ricardo had invited us to have dinner with he and his wife at 8:00pm in the back room of the tabacco shop he runs, which is attached to his house. We wanted to attend as a show of respect and friendship, but 8:00pm? We were usually in bed asleep by then. We gratefully accepted, but then decided we would need to nap in preparation. But, before we could nap, we had to buy some food for tomorrow. The grocery shop down the street hadn’t been open all afternoon. We checked it at five. Still not open. About 10 after 5 we noticed it a car had pulled up front, a woman got out and unlocked the door. Excellent, now we could get our groceries and get our nap.
As we approached the store we could see what was happening. The owner, Maria, had made a trip to Rome to buy food for her store. It was in the back of her hatchback. She had brought a few items in by the time we got there, but less than 5%. While Sally looked for the foods we needed I ferried all the food from the back of her car into her store, about 10 trips in all. Maria and Sally got to know each other a bit. She wouldn’t let me pay for the fruit we tried to buy.
Back in our room, now warm from the electric heater, we took naps in preparation for dinner. At 8:00pm we walked the one door over to the Tobacco Shop and were escorted into the back room.
Ricardo served although Patriza his wife had cooked the meal. Mounds of pasta first, then Swiss chard salad (garlic and olive oil), then fried potatoes and fried eggs. We must have been hungry because we ate everything.
Discussion turned to American politics. They were aghast at Trump’s behavior and policies. Ricardo put it well when he said that the world looks to the US for a model of how to run a democracy. . . And now?
After our wonderful dinner we stepped outside the shop, walked the 30’ to our front door unlocked it and went inside. I guess we left all the lights off. Switched a switch on . . . nothing. Tried some others. Nothing. Found the circuit breaker panel. No blown breakers. I was feeling a bit guilty about leaving the heaters on during dinner and wondering if they had overloaded the circuits. I ran up and unplugged them, tried the breakers again. Nope. Walked back to tell Ricardo. He came and repeated all my actions. Nothing. It appears all homes in Italy have a main breaker outside the home behind a locked door, maybe to cut the power to the house in case of fire or something. Ricardo brought a cookie tin full of keys. Not one fit the outside electrical box. He returned with two screwdrivers mentioning he would have a mess to fix in the morning he pried on the box until he forced the door open. He threw the breaker in the box. It immediately shut itself off. It was now pouring rain. I held an umbrella for Ricardo while he tried every combination of fixes he could conceive. Sally and I reassured him we would be fine without the power all night. Finally, he relented and gave up, returning to his home. Sally and I used our headlamps to ready for bed (now 10:00pm-Shockingly late!), broke out the sleeping bags I have been carrying everyday, snuggled in our separate bunks and slept through a very cold night, warm and toasty. We woke up in the morning to find snow on the surrounding hills. What a night to have no heat.
Descending out of Poggio Moiano
Descending out of Poggio Moiano
Descending out of Poggio Moiano
Crossing the foot bridge below the town
Looking back across the valley to Poggio Moiano
Walking along the road
The Pass, where we ate lunch
Spectacularly beautiful Valley
Spectacularly beautiful Valley
Spectacularly beautiful Valley
Walking across Italy
Walking toward Rome
Nearing Pontecelli
Sally stays warm near the fire
Store owner Maria and Sally
Patriza and Ricardo
Cold, dark morning in the hostel, a hostile hostel?
Door into hostel. Notice pried open electrical box
Ricardo’s shop
