Doug and Shawn’s Exit from Italy - Castelluccio, Spoleto, Rome, Home

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Castelluccio, Spoleto, Rome, Home ... the last days

Hello again, if you're reading this, then Betsy has once again acquiesced and allowed this guest entry to her blog. Thanks Betsy!

This one is about Shawn's and Doug's exit from Betsy's story ... the couple of days that we were turned loose, "into the wild" so to speak, as we made our way from Castelluccio to Spoleto, then to Rome, and eventually to our home in Houghton, Michigan. (Spoiler alert - we made it home!)

**** First, a couple of warnings to potential readers: 1: This passage is long. I have the advantage now of writing on a computer, which is very easy compared to a phone. 2: There are a lot of "travel trouble" bits. I'm not any more prone to these things than you are, so I'm not trying to "show off" about the things that happened to us. This stuff happens to everyone, so I guess the warning here is that reading may have some PTSD-like effects stemming from your own travel woe stories. If so, my apologies to you. 3: I hope this is somewhat entertaining, but if not, perhaps you'll find it a decent cure for insomnia? Here we go … ****

It was bittersweet as we parted from Betsy and Jim on the plain below Castelluccio. Bitter because we were having such a great time, and sweet because of the upcoming ride on our own and, of course, the good feeling of heading home. The ride from Castelluccio to Spoleto was our longest of the trip (82 km/50 miles), and (surprise surprise) very hilly too. In fact, soon after leaving the piano, we began the first of our three big climbs for the day. It was pretty cold, so the climb actually felt good. At the crest, we stopped to take a breath and soak in the beautiful views and the warmth of the sun before we put on jackets for the long descent into Norcia. Wow! This was, I think, the longest continuous descent I've even done on a bike - something like 12 miles without a pedal stroke. Fun, to say the least.

We didn't linger in the town of Norcia and rode even more downhill miles before climbing out of our second valley for the day. Again, a long climb switching back to gain the valley wall. The small town at the top was typical; a few houses, surrounded by barnyards, and, of course, a church. Then, once again, a long downhill, this time through cow country to arrive at a series of picturesque towns (we have been calling these towns "velcro towns" because they appear to be stuck onto impossible slopes or at the tops of knobs and cone shaped hills) before arriving at Borgo Cerreto where we found a little store to buy the lunch that was the standard for this trip; great prosciutto and cheese on homemade focaccia bread. We embellish these panini with our "secret sauce", a balsamic reduction, of which we carried a bottle just for these occasions. We also usually buy some salty/greasy potato chips, and some cold soda, sometimes beer.

After lunch we took a back road which turned out to be a non-motorized rail trail along a crystal clear river. This was one of the several trout streams we rode along during this trip, and this time (for the first time) we saw several people fly fishing. It's strictly catch and release in these streams.

We happily rode along this section of trail, complete with some short tunnels with great rock work, until our course took us (surprise!) UP, and out of this valley before the final plunge into Spoleto. The day's third climb was, of course, long but also steeper than average. Nonetheless, we enjoyed it knowing that our scenic country riding was coming to an end soon. Near the end of this climb we were passed by a couple who were riding E-mountain bikes which, I must say, make a LOT of sense in this territory of LONG climbs and fun descents. As this couple passed us, the woman of the pair talked non-stop Italian to us - I recognized the words for "difficult labor" and "easy" ... so I guessed she was feeling perhaps a tad bit guilty about overtaking with her motorized bike near the top of this very long ascent. ?? (I didn't hear the word "pazzo" though - which is one we heard a lot from non-cyclists wondering what we were doing.)

So finally - FINALLY - we ride another brake-burning descent into Spoleto. Like the others - this one is super fun and very scenic, and also kind of emotional as we "closed the loop" and passed by the same grand rock railroad trestles that we had ridden on a month before on our way out of Spoleto. How time flies.

Spoleto is really a cool town (little city, perhaps?). It has a fascinating history, is very scenic, and has a nice contemporary downtown area right at the base of the slopes on which the historic town sits. A railway station makes it easily accessible from other cities. I could go on, but if you're interested, just look it up online. Definitely a place worth seeing for a day or three. Our B&B here was really great, right between the old and new town, close to a grocery store and the rail station. After getting settled there, we went to the station to buy our train tickets (for us and our bikes) for the next day; an 11:30AM departure. Then out for dinner, where Shawn has a unique subterranean bagno experience. The place where we ate, Zeppelin Grill, has its only WC in a little room only accessible by an elevator which takes you down to it. Our waitress led Shawn to the elevator, but then had a lot of trouble summoning the car. When it arrived, Shawn saw it was one of those old-style freight elevators where you move a lever to open and close the door. Despite her trouble in operating the elevator, the waitress assured Shawn that it would work. So, down goes Shawn, all alone. When the car stops, she opens the door where there is one room, the WC, and she's thinking, "I haven't got my phone, so if this thing doesn't work, I'm down here for awhile!" Needless to say, that was a "hard pee" ... but the elevator did work, and Shawn rose again to the surface for a nice dinner. One last evening stroll through Spoleto, then to bed to sleep before our last Italian day.

Our last full day in Italy came with an upsurge in stress levels as we needed to complete several steps, any one of which - if it went wrong - could start a problematic spiral. And of course, it is this which occupies a lot of our thoughts as we proceed into the day. The first such "hurdle" was to catch our train and to load our bikes. (This was easy with Jim and Betsy - but we'd been warned that it isn't always so.) The other major stressors included:

- riding our bikes from the station in Rome to the EasyBox storage unit (some very busy and non-bike-friendly roads involved),

- getting into Jim's and Betsy's "cell" (this, in itself, required several steps, each involving key-codes, electronic gates, elevators, hard keys, etc.),

- disassembling and packing our bikes ...

- in order to be ready to meet the van which was supposed to collect us at the EasyBox and take us to our hotel near the airport.

So ... after breakfast, with coffee from the most over-engineered coffee maker (sorry, espresso machine) I've ever encountered, we head out for one last lap around historic Spoleto. This ends with a typically long search for a bagno (we had checked out of the B&B) which puts just a little time pressure on us to get food for lunch at the grocery store, then catch the train. We then retrieve our bikes and ride to the grocery store where Shawn buys the usual lunch, PB&C - prosciutto, bread, chips. Now to the station to validate our tickets and look for our train which arrives just a bit late.

As the train pulls in we do as Jim and Betsy taught us, to look for the car which is designated for bikes, but we don't see it. So we walk, and keep walking, to the train's tail end (where it often resides). Still, we don't see it. The last car is obviously marked for wheelchair access, but it isn't until we're right at the door when we see a small sign indicating this is also the bici car. But the door isn't open as it was with all the other cars. I pull the door handle and one of the half-doors opens ... and then almost immediately closes. We look for someone "official looking" - who I imagine will see us struggling and come to the rescue ... but no. So I open the door (half of it) again and this time bodily hold it open as I wrestle my loaded bike into the car. Now, as an added adrenaline inducer, a loud buzzer starts pulsing on and off as the doors close once again with me and my bike aboard and Shawn outside. I open the door again and Shawn manages to get her front wheel up in the steps as I try to hold the door open and pull her bike into the car vestibule (where my bike is taking up a lot of the real estate). The buzzer continues to buzz, the automatic announcer is announcing that we are about to get underway. Surely someone must realize what's happening and come to help ... but no. I'm not even sure how, but we get Shawn's bike in, then, again ... whoosh, the doors close. As they do, Shawn puts her arm in the door's path thinking it will sense her arm and re-open ... but no. Along with the people in the adjacent car, I hear Shawn let out a yelp as the door closes on her arm and she pulls it out. Now she's outside, me and the bikes are in, the buzzer continues … BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ ... , the announcer announces, "The train is leaving the station". Shawn pulls the door handle and half the door opens just long enough for her to get in, and I swear the train is moving as she does this. Does anyone (other than the nearby passengers) notice? Nope. Other than the cleaning person (who was super nice and cleaned up a nice spot where we could eat our lunch) we never saw an official train employee the whole trip. Wow. "The Hell of the Train Doors", a modern herculean tale.

With adrenaline just past spiking, we unload our bike panniers and hang our bikes in the very simple, but mostly effective, hooks provided for this purpose. As we sit down in the passenger section of this "handicap accessible" car, (use your imagination as to what could take place!) a young lady from England, traveling with her parents, says, "That sure looked exciting, what happened?" As I'm talking with her family, Shawn is sweating bullets, once again thinking, "If the train had left without me, I had no phone, no money, no nothing!" Hurdle number one, check! (Interestingly - those doors were never operated again during our trip. The doors on the other side of the car were used, even once by another boarding cyclist, with no problems. When we exited, we used the other set of doors. We just pulled the handles and the doors opened, and stayed open … no problem. Hmmmm??)  On to Rome …

As will happen with every mode of transport from here on, our train is delayed, because ... who knows? As we geet 10 or so miles from Rome, it just keeps stopping, waiting, then moving again, but VERY slowly. By the time we disembark, we're 40 minutes late but feel we'll still be able to be ready when the van comes to collect us at EasyBox. So now it's onto the streets of Rome to the EasyBox. This little trip (only a few miles) includes three distinct sections; the first is the streets to get into a very large park-like cemetary that lies directly between the train station and our destination. The second part is the cemetery itself. And the third part is from the cemetery to Easybox which involves skirting around the entrances and exits to the main Autostrada (inner city expressway) while navigating a labyrinth of busy streets. The first two parts of the trip are pretty smooth. We ride cautiously and carefully and get to the cemetery, then ride through it, actually taking a longer route because it's SO interesting. It's like a city within itself with old-style plots, large monumental crypts, and huge apartment-style complexes with hundreds of "burial" sites rising ten and more levels above the ground surface, complete with rolling ladders to access your dearly departed's apartment/grave site. Eventually though, we need to exit ... into the labyrinth. We stop just outside the cemetery gates to study the Google map, which looks like a plate of spaghetti with our route marked as one blue "noodle" winding through the others. Oh boy, here we go!!

This section starts, calmly enough, through a roundabout, but then it's unclear which of the three busy roads is the correct one. We try one but it isn't right, so we pull over to the side and get out of traffic to back track. The second attempt is no better, and the map seems to be directing us onto a very busy narrow overpass. Can that be right? Doubtfully, we go to explore that option, scooting (not riding) our bikes along, but as we get near the entrance not one, but two, drivers both stop and tell us (in machine gun Italian) that we can't go that way. One driver must sense that we don't speak Italian because he quickly switches to broken (but blessedly good) English to say, "That's not possible on bici!! Very dangerous!!" He then, as he's blocking traffic in the road next to us, explains as best he can which way we should go. His directions are "good enough" to get us to the street which leads to the EasyBox (such a name!!!). Hurdle number two ... check!

We were worried (just a bit) about getting into the EasyBox because this process hadn't gone very smoothly as Jim and Betsy tried to get in the first time. This was after nearly three years of being away from it. But we were in luck this time because just as we rode into the entrance a big truck was ahead of us entering the complex, so we just followed that truck through the outer gates and then right on through the big overhead door. The elevator worked as it should, as did the next electronic lock and overhead door - we're in! Hurdle three - check!

The packing process, which we've practiced often by now, also goes very smoothly, which is good because we finish up very close to our time limit. Then, as we are heading out toward the big open overhead door, it starts to close and we're not sure if it can be opened from the inside since traffic is only allowed one-way through this door. When we see the door start to close, we automatically both start running, with our two bike boxes, a very large and heavy duffle bag, and two small backpacks. We get to the door in time to trip the safety sensor which re-opens the door so we can go through. Easy enough, compared to the train doors at least.

Our wait for the van is short, and he comes to the right place (this too, didn't go so well when we were all delivered here a month ago). As you know, this mode of conveyance is also delayed, this time by heavy traffic along the way, and even though we don't have a critical deadline for this evening it's very annoying to both us and our driver. The ride takes about twice as long as it should, but we eventually arrive at our swanky hotel where we have cocktails by the pool and a nice ristorante dinner ... starting, of course, at eight o'clock :-/

We're up at 5AM to eat some of what's in the "breakfast box" provided by the hotel (since our airport shuttle will leave before the served breakfast starts). We have some juice (good), water (in a can?), and a few bites of sweet bread-like things (not good). Now, to catch our shuttle. The night before when we reserved our space in the shuttle we talked with the desk people about the fact that our bike boxes are very large and need to fit into the van. The woman was very nice and said she would check, and that she would let us know if there was a problem. Later that evening, she confirmed that she talked with the driver and we (and our bike boxes) were all set for the 6:30 shuttle which would take us to the airport to catch our 9:50 flight. We were the first ones outside the hotel to wait for the shuttle, but as we're waiting, more and more people are coming out to wait and we're thinking "How big is this shuttle? These people have BIG suitcases." Finally the bus-shuttle shows up and seems pretty big, but there are a lot of folks and luggage waiting. Everyone, of course, lunges to the van in fear of being left behind. We can’t lunge with all of our stuff, so we move slowly and end up at the back of the line. The driver starts energetically loading baggage, but I soon get his attention to show him our bike boxes, at which point he suddenly stops his loading, looks at us and shakes his head. "Grande! Molte grande!" he says, continuing to shake his head. I use my horrible Italian to try to say that the desk checked with him about the bikes last night ... and I think I may have gotten through because he then gives us a little smile and with no hesitation starts to make room for our bikes. After a lot of shoving, arranging, and grunting (this guy is energetic!), there is a pile of luggage in the back of the van from floor to ceiling. The driver indicates that Shawn and I will sit in the back seats and keep our bikes and other luggage from cascading down onto us or other passengers. We're happy to take on this task ... and it's off to the airport. When we get out, we're the last to collect our luggage. We're also the only ones to tip the driver. As I do, I say to him "Grazie, grazie, grazie mille!" He, very seriously, grabs me by both arms, looks me in the eye and says "I hope you had good bike in Italy." So we're here, but late ... again.

Inside the terminal, with our oversize and heavy bike boxes, the stress levels remain high, but we know that the only thing to do is dig deep into the "patience cave" and go through the motions. We do, and the motions move, and soon enough our bags are in the hands of the airline and we're through security and at our gate. Of course, boarding is delayed (no reason given). We eventually board and, after a while, are told that there are some maintenance issues with the plane that need to be addressed ... and that the related paperwork will have to be processed before we can leave the gate. You've probably all had this happen as well, so you know the feeling, helpless and resigned. After about an hour we leave the gate, but when we get near the runway the captain comes on the horn and says "folks, there's no easy way to say what I've got to say." Sheesh! This story is already long, so I'll just say that three hours after boarding ... and some very interesting ground maneuvers, we took off for home. Our scheduled layover in Chicago made it so that the delay didn't conflict with our connecting flight from Chicago to Houghton, and almost exactly 24 hours after waking up in Rome, we were going to bed at home in Houghton. Our flight was through crystal clear skies over the Alps of France and Switzerland (my great-grandfather's homeland), and clear too over the Great Lakes where I could see Harbor Beach, Michigan (where my mom and dad are buried). Overseas air travel is certainly arduous, stressful, and tiring ... but also pretty miraculous. Our Italian trip was wonderous indeed, but there's no place like home.