The plus side of having to organise our own breakfast was that we ate sufficient calories to keep us going until lunchtime. Although today was another relatively short walk of about 21 kilometres, we are now into the swing of getting up at 6am and leaving by 7-7.30am. That also gives us plenty of time to explore churches and villages en route, and to get our daily laundry done in good time to dry it out overnight once we get to our billet.

Mortara was busy this morning, with local children back to school after half-term and the adults back to work. The school car park was evidently not to be used for dropping off and so parents were stopping anywhere they could on adjacent roads to let their children out of their cars. There was just the same sort of chaos we see at home!

We were quickly out of town onto small roads, but still had to get across and then along the busy ring road. It was a beautiful sunny morning, though there was an autumnal chill in the air, and initially we were walking directly towards the sun as it was rising over the eastern horizon.

Just inside the ring road on the Via Francigena stands the Abbazia di Sant’Albino, an abbey offering pilgrim accommodation and where the Spanish man we met yesterday had been heading. We have decided to avoid sleeping in dormitories, especially at this time of year when ventilation is likely to be less good, so as to reduce our risk of getting ill with Covid. We’ve seen municipal notices in towns and villages warning that infection rates are on the increase again, though little sign of changes in behaviour.

Once clear of the busy ring road the path followed farm tracks around the fields, occasionally crossing irrigation canals, and with more trees than we’ve seen for a while. We also noticed that there was more wheat and maize being grown, in addition to rice, in this area.

Once out into more open country we realised that what looked like frost on the fields of stubble was in fact a blanket of dew covered spiders’ webs twinkling in the early morning sunshine. The amount of work and number of spiders that must have been involved is quite incredible. We also wondered whether what we had thought was frost on the fields yesterday wasn’t frost at all but more spidery handiwork.

At about 1000 we came to the village of Remondo and, passing a cafe/bar, decided to stop for a coffee. In the 20 minutes we were there at least 20 other people came in for a quick coffee, mostly an espresso knocked back standing at the bar, before continuing with their day. We noticed that the bin men also left clutching a large bottle of beer each! Where they survive these cafe/bars also appear to serve an important function as social meeting places in small isolated villages, and we are pleased to be able to support them.

Outside the village were several properties with notices stating they are owned by the military, although all looked rundown and probably not in current use. The surrounding fences were about half the height of the fences around Army HQ at Andover and without a capping of razor wire, but like in the UK there were lots of notices warning of the consequences of unauthorised entry.

Our path continued to follow farm tracks across the almost flat landscape for several more kilometres. As we have found over recent days, there were several types of wildflower still blooming in the exceptionally warm sunshine, brightening up the generally brownish hue of the autumn countryside.

At a farmstead not identified on our maps was a resting place for pilgrims with the usual Via Francigena sign above. It is apparent that we are not following convention as we should: yes, Tom carries stick and rucksack, and yes, Julie walks dutifully behind. But….what about her rucksack?! And a skirt is really not practical for what we’re doing.

Across the way was a very fine traditionally built machinery shed, with whole tree trunks and branches used for the cross beams and rafters.

More flat farm tracks brought us into Tromello, a small town about 5 kilometres from our destination. The countryside today has been quite different from the last 2-3 days. Although flat, there are fewer irrigation channels here, fewer rice paddies, generally smaller fields, and more trees and hedges. All of this makes for a rather more interesting landscape, although the walking is still pretty flat and easy.

Just before going into Tromello we decided to sit on a grassy bank to eat our lunch, but were soon plagued by flies, so quickly packed up and walked on into town. Relaxing instead on a bench in the main square we were approached by an elderly gentleman asking if we would like our pilgrim passports stamped, and we said we would ”per favore”. He took them away to his nearby office, clambering through scaffolding as the building is being renovated, and came back with pilgrim passports stamped, a card with a pilgrim prayer in Latin and a metal badge for each of us, courtesy of the local church community. We were rather touched by his thoughtfulness. Having an ancient pilgrim route passing through is clearly important to the church community here.

The remaining walk to our day’s destination was about 5 kilometres, again meandering along farm tracks and then taking tarmac roads into Garlasco. As we were making our way along a narrow street towards the outskirts of Tromello a motorcyclist came along behind us, stopped, asked where we were from and, being told England, said ”welcome to Italy” and wished us well with our walk. We decided that Tromello is a friendly place with inhabitants who seem to like pilgrims. There even seemed to be fewer barking dogs warning us off!

Our accommodation was across the other side of town, so we decided to cut through the centre rather than following the ring road with all its busy traffic. That took us all the way to Siberia and beyond!

We found our night’s lodging place on the bypass. In the vestibule there is a grand piano. While our passport details were being taken she wandered over and began playing. The Hotel Diamante promised to be a good place to stay.

High point of the day? Well, probably Tromello and the kind man who arranged the stamping of our pilgrim testimonia.

This morning was another early start as the trains back to Robbio left Vercelli at either 0733 or midday, and the latter would have meant we had to rush to arrive at our destination in daylight. So, we left our B&B at 7am and walked the short distance to the train station where we found out that we’d be using a bus replacement service. Fortunately, as there were no station staff to ask this early on a Sunday morning, Tom found the bus driver who helpfully pointed out from where the bus would be departing.

As the bus left Vercelli over the same bridge we had walked across yesterday we noticed that quite a lot of the snow on Monte Rosa has melted since yesterday and there was frost on the fields. We’re not sure how much longer we are going to be able to walk in shorts, but then it’s a bonus to be able to do so at all in November! The bus dropped us off at Robbio railway station where the rice processing factory was belching steam into the chilly morning air.

Our path took us out of Robbio through an industrial area, including an agricultural engineering business, the football stadium, and the town’s sewerage works. Once clear of all of that we were once again into farmland and intermittent farmsteads, with fields of rice, harvested wheat and poplar plantations to the horizon.

Just before reaching the village of Nicorvo we crossed a bridge over one of the larger watercourses so far, the Torrente Agogna. Whilst Tom was looking for any fish feeding under the bridge Julie noticed a smallish rodent moving on the bank.

A patient watch of several minutes followed by an internet search informed us that these were coypu or nutria, a South American species related to the squirrel. They were introduced into Europe, including Italy, about a hundred years ago and bred in captivity for their fur. More recently, when fur fell out of fashion, the coypu either escaped or were released into the wild where they have flourished as they have no natural predator, other than homo sapiens.

In Nicorvo we found a small cafe open and stopped for a coffee as we were making good progress. We were greeted warmly by a group of three Italian cyclists who were also doing the Via Francigena, though much faster than us and following a slightly different route. They insisted on taking a group photo, so we took the opportunity to display the banners on our rucksacks advertising the three charities for which we are fundraising. At first, we struggled with a mixture of our English and their Italian. We tried French and that seemed to solve the problem! One of them of them had been to Salisbury and spoke of being confused by its pronunciation. Surely it should be Sal-IS-bury, he insisted!

The very friendly proprietor of the cafe enquired whether we wanted to get our pilgrim passports stamped and then explained that if we went to the church just up the street we would find it open with a pilgrim stamp on the table inside. And so we did.

Inside the church there was also a plaque on the wall about pilgrimage and a second plaque with a prayer for pilgrims (which we will need to translate from the Italian).

Just outside of Nicorvo we saw several small flocks of ibis feeding in the fields, as we have on previous days, but this time they were so intent in feeding we were able to see them relatively close up. Later, whilst we sat on a grassy bank having our lunch, a couple of ibis flew even closer to us, showing the black defining under-edges of their wings. The latter suggests that these are African sacred ibis which are now found in northern Italy, as well as sightings further north. Another example of the impact of climate change, perhaps?

Along the track, at Cascina Afficiati, there was the usual large courtyard of buildings, only a small part of which was habitable. What initially looked like an outside extension in a state of disrepair with a water channel running beneath, we worked out must once have been a small mill, with a side channel that once provided water for an overshop mill wheel, no longer in place. We assume that before the days of huge aggregated milling facilities, at least some of these farms probably did their own small scale milling and sold direct to the local community.

Again today we saw a few remnants of summer flowers hanging on before night frosts and winter set in, including white campion and yellow snapdragons, as well as some pink clover. With all the intensive farming in the area it is difficult to imagine how many wild flowers there would be here in spring, but it might be interesting to return to find out…one day.

A last stretch walking on a raised grassy track bounded on each side by water channels and bunded fields brought us to Madonna del Campo, where the church was open and evidently well cared for by the small local community.

We were now back onto a tarmac road leading into Mortara, crossing the railway only to have to cross back again via an underpass at the railway station. Here we were hailed by another walking pilgrim, a young man from Spain who had walked from Marseille and plans to arrive in Rome by 05 December. Whilst we had spent a leisurely day walking from Robbio, he had walked from Vercelli, covering in one short day the 33 kilometres it had taken us two days to walk. We were vastly amused by the clutch of microfibre cleaning pads, neatly arranged in four colours, wedged under the shoulder straps of his rucksack. Very stylish as well as practical!

Whilst our Spanish pilgrim was going onto the nearby Abbey to sleep in their dormitory for pilgrims, we stopped at an Auberge in town which is also recommended for pilgrims. Unfortunately, we were only told after booking that their restaurant is closed on Sunday evenings, and the offer of breakfast made a month ago was today said to be ’a mistake’. Since we have found Italian breakfasts too insubstantial for a day’s walking it is perhaps as well that we’ve been able to find an open supermarket to buy milk and muesli for our breakfast tomorrow, as well as stocking up on items for lunches. To cap it all, the wifi doesn’t work either, and Madam could not have cared less! All rather disappointing.

Although today’s was to be a relatively short walk of about 20 kilometres we decided to set out early anyway, and left our B&B with day sacks at 0650, just as it was beginning to get light. What a luxury to carry just lunch and rain gear!

It was rather pleasant to have the streets almost to ourselves, and to be able to admire the varied architecture without fear of bumping into someone or being run over. We passed several very impressive and ornate palazzos, a number of ”ex” churches – the Church here is clearly struggling to maintain all its assets too – many fancy metalwork grilles over windows and ornate metal gates. As we passed through Piazza Camillo Benso Conte di Cavour traders were just beginning to set up their Saturday market stalls, and we gave them a cheery “buon giorno” as we walked by. Though tempted to ask if we could buy some local cheeses we decided to avoid carrying the extra weight.

We were clear of the urban area surprisingly quickly – unlike the long drag in from Santhia a couple of days ago – and soon crossing a bridge over the river Sesia, which is split into multiple channels at this point. To our delight the Alps were in clear view to the north of us, with recent snow cover, which fell here as rain a couple of nights ago. They glowed pink as the sun’s rays began to curve over the horizon. The blocky massif of Monte Rosa, at 4634m the second highest of the Alps lay directly in front of us. A quick internet check confirmed that Bourg St Pierre, our last stop in Switzerland before the Grand St Bernard pass, and St Rhemy-en-Bosses this side of the Alps are both now blanketed in snow. That’s a snow level down to about 1600 metres. We were glad we got over when we did!

After a short walk along the side of the busy road to Pavia, we turned off onto farm tracks, making our way around fields of harvested rice and wheat, and poplar plantations for most of the day. At the first farm, Cascina Bischizia, we met a young woman out collecting mushrooms who told us she had made the sign we had just admired. We chatted for quite a while in a mixture of our pidgen-Iti, English and her beautifully expressive Italian. Somehow we managed to hold a most interesting conversation about our pilgrimage, about the diversity and history of church architecture along the route and the pressures of farming in this very dry year. She agreed to add Salisbury to her sign showing the different pilgrim routes leading to Rome, though we were slightly worried that she referred to it as Salsbourg (Salzburg in Austria?). Carla Morello, who calls herself ‘ The Young Farmer Girl’ on line, has also very kindly advertised our fundraising campaign on her Instagram feed which describes the pilgrims who pass her farm. This chance encounter was one of the highlights of the day.

As the tracks were dead flat we were able to stride out and cover the kilometres fairly quickly, albeit with quite a lot of twists and turns to circumnavigate the irrigation channels. By mid morning we were very hungry, having eaten only the light sweet cakes that comprise an Italian breakfast so, coming upon a place to sit, we stopped to tuck into our packed lunches. We were making good progress and reckoned we’d get to our destination in time for lunch in a cafe.

Just along the track was the village of Palestro, which has a church, a turreted tower, and a railway station, but like many of these smaller places it is very quiet and has seen better days. From the train on the way back to Vercelli we could see a quite extensive area of derelict industrial buildings, though no indication of what had gone on there in the past.

On leaving Palestro we turned off the road onto farm tracks meandering through more rice fields and poplar plantations. This part of the walk was slightly rough going as we negotiated our way over and around a complex system of drainage/irrigation channels, some passing over or under others, with complex systems of conduits and hatches – all rather reminiscent of the chalk-stream water-meadow systems at home, albeit on a rather larger scale.

For the next couple of kilometres we walked around the edges of fields with a drop of several metres to a drainage channel to our right, and other fields also at the lower level. We wondered when all this engineering had taken place, and marvelled at the amount of work that had gone into ensuring these extensive irrigated field systems are productive.

Once more into open fields we came upon a set of wooden seats made from fallen tree trunks and neatly placed in the shade of an oak tree. They looked so inviting we just had to stop there awhile! As we had found a couple of days ago, spiders are particularly active with making webs at present, and the seats were bound to the branches above by lots of tiny threads.

Along the next stretch of the track Tom spotted a kingfisher and a grey heron which we were able to get quite close to by ’stalking’ it behind a tree until the heron heard us and took off.

Another couple of kilometres walking on tarmac roads brought us into Robbio, our destination for today. On the way into town we passed by the local farmers’ cooperative building, quiet on a Saturday lunchtime, and a small romanesque church, sadly closed, but it did offer seats and a water tap outside.

Finding somewhere we could have lunch wasn’t quite as simple as we’d hoped as the couple of bars we passed were serving only alcohol or coffee. Pausing outside a closed restaurant a very kind man came over to us, enquired if we were looking for somewhere to eat, and directed us to a Chinese run cafe 200 metres down the road where we found filled panini, very similar to our intended lunch rolls, and a glass of white wine!

Fed and watered we headed off to the railway station to get a train back to Vercelli as there is no accommodation to be had in Robbio. Indeed, Robbio looks like another small rural town which has seen better days, though there is a rice processing plant adjacent to the railway station which seems to be active. We don’t know how the processing works, save that it involves many stages of refinement, but how much employment it provides we also don’t know. The railway station was in a very poor state of repair, and there was a lot of uncleared litter on the platforms, including an empty brandy bottle! However, we were very glad to find a train service still functioning which enabled us to complete another day’s walk with the promise of a comfortable bed at the end of the day!

We certainly felt in need of our rest today after yesterday’s marathon of nearly 30 kilometres. After a luxurious lie-in, leisurely breakfast, and ministering to the washing machine, we set out to find somewhere to have a good lunch.

Retracing our steps of yesterday we were much more appreciative of the tree lined pedestrianised boulevard, the Corso Giuseppe Garibaldi, leading from the railway station to the Piazza Pietro Pajetto Nedo. Close to the Piazza end we found a small family run cafe/bar doing a good trade in lunches, so decided to follow the crowd and were not disappointed.

At the adjacent table was a family group speaking English. After seeking their advice on whether it was table service or order inside, we got into conversation. They were two Tunisian men and the Dutch partner of one of them meeting up with a female Tunisian relative who moved here a year ago, as she explained, for love. They were very interested in our pilgrimage, and most encouraging.

Our next task was to find a supermarket to stock up on items for picnic lunches. En route we noticed again the flying baby spiders which had been all around us yesterday, catching their sticky web parachutes in our hair and on our clothes. Against a sunny blue sky we could see them floating around high above us.

Shopping sorted, we went in search of the Tourist Office to get our pilgrim passports stamped and had a very interesting conversation with the young woman working there. She told us that the confusing detours on our route yesterday had arisen because some of the local farmers had got fed up with lots of people walking over their land during Covid lockdowns. They had insisted on the Via Francigena being re-routed, despite the fact that only locals were allowed to walk there at that time. It seems the straw broke the camel’s back to the detriment of pilgrims like us. Equally frustrating for her, the City Council has not yet agreed to signpost her office from the railway station, which is the direction taken by most visitors. It seems that bureaucratic intransigence and life’s little frustrations are much the same wherever you live!

We were also able to make the link between the decaying Ospedale Maggiore di Sant’Andrea we had walked past at Cascina Stra yesterday and the current Ospedale Maggiore situated just behind the Tourist Office. Both are part of the foundation set up Cardinal Bicchieri in the 13th century when Vercelli was far more important than Turin or Milan because it lies on the Via Francigena, which was the main trading and pilgrim route between Rome and northern Europe during the Middle Ages. We were reminded that places like Amesbury and Ludgershall, near where we live, for example, were far more important in previous centuries than they are today.

Just around the corner from our B&B is the beautiful romanesque Basilica di Sant’Andrea (St Andrew the Apostle) which, being made of red brick, glows warmly in the low autumn sunlight. Unlike many of the churches we have visited in Italy so far, this one has retained its simple early architecture and avoided the baroque ornamentation of later times. This church too was founded in the early 13th century by Cardinal Bicchieri on his return from acting as Papal Legate to the royal courts of France and England, where two of his tasks were to support the crowning of Henry III and to witness Magna Carta, providing an interesting link with Salisbury.

Washing, shopping, and minimal sight-seeing done for the day we returned to our room to rest with a cup of tea and plan tomorrow’s walk before going out later for supper. There is a lot more of interest to see and do in Vercelli, but we will have to save it all for another visit.

We did unexpectedly well with our billet last night. It looked as though the owners may have used enforced closure during Covid lockdowns to renovate their rooms, and ours was both comfortable and well appointed. The hotel was busy, and it has a good restaurant. We enjoyed a proper Italian risotto with a glass of excellent local red wine (Nebbiolo). An early breakfast enabled us to start walking by 0730.

As ever, getting out of town wasn’t entirely straightforward and we found ourselves between an industrial area and a very run-down housing estate alongside the railway before realising we should have crossed the lines via a footbridge.

Had we walked directly to Vercelli it would have been about 20 kilometres along a straight and very busy main road, which is thought to have been the route taken by Siguric about 1200 years ago when travelling was much slower. Instead, as modern day pilgrims, we mostly followed farm tracks either side of the road, with intermittent short stretches on the main road, clinging to the verge as heavy traffic sped past us. And speed it did, regardless of the speed cameras!

At the village of San Germano di Vercellese we found the church open, as were a couple cafe/bars doing a little trade, but otherwise it looked rather rundown with derelict houses along the main street. And, as we found all along our route today, there were abundant welcoming signs for pilgrims but little or nothing in the way of useful practical facilities, such as sources of drinking water. We were very glad we’d decided not to walk this far in the heat of July when the two litres of water we can carry would have been totally inadequate.

It turned out that San Germano was the only village on our route today, as we resumed walking on farm tracks passing through acres and acres of rice fields surrounding intermittent farmsteads. It wasn’t the most interesting of walking, but being flat we were able to get the kilometres under our belts reasonably quickly. Most of the farmsteads comprised of the farmhouse or several houses facing onto a large inner courtyard of farm buildings, some of which were in use and some quite detelict. As with farms everywhere each had its bone yard of rusting machinery and other ’junk’ lying around.

Along the track were quite a lot of small mushrooms, often growing amongst dandelions. There were a few other summer flowers hanging on, including pink clover, white campion, and some unidentified (though familiar!) small yellow flowers, but generally the countryside has a distinctly autumnal look, feel and smell.

Rounding the corner of the buildings of Cascina Castellone we found a stone table and seats placed by a local Rotary club, pilgrims for the use of, fortuitously at near enough lunchtime. The stone benches were cool and surprisingly comfortable for a short siesta.

Another rather fraught road crossing, and we then followed parallel to the main road for about a kilometre, to the almost abandoned settlement of Cascine Stra, an extensive collection of decaying buildings with just a couple of them still habitable.

It looked as though a lot of people had once lived here, but now the busy main road bisects the settlement. A plaque on the side of a building states that it is owned by Ospedale Maggiore di Vercelli. An internet search informed us that the Ospedale was founded by Cardinal Bicchieri in 1224 to provide for the poor, itinerants, and pilgrims seeking refuge. The foundation fell into disuse after the Second World War and was abandoned in 1960. There have been subsequent restoration efforts, but there is a very long way to go with that. Despite the dire state of most of the buildings, there were a few people and a dog living here still.

The signed route then sent us back in the direction we had just come or alternatively on a detour of several kilometres to another cascina before coming back up to the main road. Neither option seemed to make sense, so we gritted our teeth and hacked down the busy road for about a kilometre to cut out the detours and shorten what was already a long day’s walk.

Once off the main road, we crossed over the railway line to walk parallel to it for several kilometres, before crossing back and rejoining the main road. Our maps appeared to show a slightly shorter route across the fields, but lest we found ourselves having no way across a deep ditch full of water and having to backtrack we decided to follow the marked route.

The last stretch of the day involved walking on the busy main road, with no pedestrian refuge on either side, intermittently waving our walking poles at speeding drivers coming perilously close. It was rather nerve wracking! At the roundabout outside town we had to be quite assertive to persuade the traffic to allow us to cross the junctions. Even though this is the official Via Francigena walking route there were no pedestrian crossings, refuges, or lights to help us!

We then followed the main road into the centre of Vercelli, bashing along pavements for a couple of kilometres and, again, having to be assertive to get across marked pedestrian crossings which seem to be ignored by the majority of drivers. At this stage of a long day, one’s patience for inconsiderate drivers wears a bit thin whilst the drivers we challenged seemed puzzled or put out, but we were well past caring!

We found our B&B on a quiet residential street near the Basilica di Sant’Andrea, and were inside just as the rain that had been forecast for the afternoon began. Unfortunately it was well set in by the time we went out to find some supper, so we got soggy feet, but enjoyed a good meal and an excellent bottle of red Barbera d’Asti. Asti lies on the other side of the Po to the south of Vercelli and is famous, of course, for Asti Spumante. The Barbera is arguably rather better! It was the waitress’s recommendation and a very good one too.

Today’s walk was long in distance and short on interest. We are mightily glad we didn’t attempt it in July when the heat, mosquitoes, absence of shade and lack of drinking water would have made it intolerable. Tomorrow is a much needed rest day!

This morning we woke relatively late as we have a shorter walk, but were surprised to see a wall of fog hiding the lake from view. Today’s forecast had been for sunshine all day. What a contrast with last night’s beautiful sunset reflecting across the lake!

After a leisurely breakfast we had to walk back up into the village to rejoin our route, stocking up on some lunch items in the supermarket on the way. With a heavy dew overnight the many spiders’ webs in the bushes were spangled with dewdrops, highlighting their owners’ intricate workmanship. Noticing these small details takes one’s mind off the effort of carrying a heavy pack uphill. But it does give an excuse to stop for a moment to admire and take a photograph.

On the outskirts of Viverone we got a brief glimpse inside the cemetery, but had to move away as there was a funeral going on. These cemeteries have been intriguing us, because they are usually locked and contained inside high walls, but from the outside look very different from a British or even a French one. They have what look like large family vaults around the perimeter walls, and separate walls with plaques and flowers which we assume to be for cremations. We were reminded of the shock we felt when we first saw the large ornate family vaults in the south of Corsica, which is renowned for its Sicilian mafia, though here in the north of Italy they seem more modest in style and size.

Up the road, at Roppolo, we saw our first memorial to individual soldiers who fell in the Great War, some as late as 1919. Again, we were touched to see fresh flowers recently placed in memoriam. Although the number of individuals seemed small, certainly compared with the shockingly large numbers we’d seen in French cemeteries, our guess is that these deaths will have had a significant impact on a small tight-knit rural community.

The next stretch of today’s walk took us through lovely chestnut woods and around small arable fields. There seem to be keen supporters of the Via Francigena in this area as the path was well signed with both direction markers and information about nearby pilgrim facilities.

After passing several large houses and some kind of factory we descended into Cavaglia, a small town with a very ornate church and a castle, though we didn’t have time to explore either, unfortunately. We’ve noticed that churches here have elaborate west ends, usually dating from the 18th century, whilst the rest of the building tends to be unplastered and looks to be much older, in romanesque style. The separate campanile are also usually built in brick.

On the way out of Cavaglia we were hailed by a smiling woman shouting after us ’buono camino’ which cheered us up and compensated for being repeatedly discouraged by aggressive dogs. There was further encouragement along the way with several places providing somewhere for weary pilgrims to sit and rest. Had we set out to walk from Ivrea to Santhia in one day, as some guidebooks suggest, we’d have been very much in need of these rest stops.

The rest of today’s walk followed farm tracks across almost flat land intersected by irrigation channels, and we came upon our first rice paddies constructed by levelling and bunding fields to facilitate efficient use of water resources. Apparently, melt water coming down off the mountains in springtime is stored and then gradually used across the northern arable plains over the dry summer months.

In the midst of the farms we had to get to the other side of a motorway and the high speed railway line. Crossing under the latter was simple as it runs on a long viaduct at this point, but in order to cross the road we were sent on an irritatingly circuitous route where a 5 metre set of steps would have made all the difference!

Along the farm track we found a very hospitable sign inviting weary pilgrims to use the garden chairs and lawn to rest, asking only that we leave it all clean and tidy. What a contrast with the hundreds of notices we’d seen declaring that it was (quite obviously) private property and beware of the dog!

Farming around here seems to be mostly rice with a small amount of other arable and dairy, presumably providing milk for local cheesemakers. We were served some delicious local cheeses for our supper last night. Why can’t we buy a greater variety of Italian cheeses at home? Judging by the number and spacing of farmhouses the farms are quite small and are having to diversify into ’agriturismo’ to survive.

Another couple of kilometres of zig-zagging through farmland brought us within sight of Santhia, at last!

Santhia is not a large town, and we soon found the tourist office in the centre. Still open, and the nice woman in the office immediately anticipated that we wanted to have our pilgrim passports stamped.

Across the other side of town we found our hotel, near the railway station. This will shorten our long day’s walk tomorrow by about half a kilometre. Every little counts!

The highlight of today was walking through the chestnut woods, which reminded us of our time in Haslemere. It made us think of Tom’s father and how much he would have enjoyed walking with us on this pilgrimage. Bless him.

Once the trick or treaters went home we got a good night’s sleep, though the alarm went off too early! We had asked for breakfast at 7am but as that was too early for our landlady she delivered breakfast last night so we could get going early. Having asked for some milk we were able to make tea, real tea – our first since leaving home!

The weather forecast was for rain this morning…and it was right, so we set off in light drizzle wearing our caghoules and with rain covers over our packs. Counterintuitively the route headed out of town in a north-easterly direction, back towards the hills, but it was on the flat initially. On the way through town we were stopped by an African man, probably in his twenties, asking for cash. We wished him ’buon giorno’ and continued on our way. But something nagged us to know more about him. Is he a refugee migrant trying to make his way across Europe to a new life? We wished we’d stopped and talked to him, to find out more about him.

It took quite a while to free ourselves of the urban environment, but once out of town we found fields freshly sown with winter wheat and some extensive poplar plantations. It was interesting to note that the soil had changed from the dry sandy/silty loam we’d become used to in the Aosta valley to a heavy clay which was quite saturated and claggy. Hidden in the woods we came upon Lago di Campagne, mirror calm but for occasional spots of rain and the casting of a fly by a lone fisherman on the opposite bank.

In the poplar plantation we met a couple walking a small dog which was initially friendly, but then took fright and started barking at us. This little dog was plucky and had to be called off to calm down, unlike the two big dogs guarding a builder’s yard further along the road which furiously leapt at the wire fence as if to get at us, but then slunk back as soon as we shouted and shook our walking poles at them.

We then began to gain height, and walked through a couple of villages. It looked like a previous pilgrim had lost a sandal on the road, and we wondered how or whether they were able to continue walking. With all the rough ground and road bashing we’ve been doing we’re very glad to have Vibram soles on our boots!

In the village of Bollengo we found a cafe advertising that it has a pilgrim stamp, so in we went to get our pilgrim passports stamped for the first time this trip. It would have been churlish not to stop for a warming latte and a chocolata. In Italy it seems that hot chocolate is served with a consistency close to a paste or sauce, so perhaps it will be better to ask for extra ’latte’ another time!

On the way out of the village we came across the first of several monuments to the memory of the Agli Alpini, Italy’s specialist mountain soldiers, who gave their lives serving their country. Unlike similar monuments in the UK and France, there don’t seem to be lists of individual names on Italian war memorials, but there are always fresh floral tributes.

Up the road our path detoured to take us to the very old Romanesque church of San Pietro, perched on a hillock overlooking Bollengo and the valley beyond. The church is undergoing renovations since being given to the local community by the landowner. Sadly all information about it was on display boards locked up inside the church and we’ve not been able to find out about it elsewhere.

If this was a Roman church, we wondered how long after St Paul brought Christianity to the Romans it had been built. Possibly not very long.

From Bollengo we continued to climb up amongst the vineyards which are mostly well tended here. There are some sizeable villas behind enormous ornate metal gates, suggesting there is plenty if money around, though even they rely on dogs for security. At the village of Palazzo Canavese we found a selection of wooden benches in the main square facing the church and bellfry, just right for a lunch stop, and watched people come and go to use the adjacent water vending machines in their own small building. For just 7 cents you can have a litre of ’frizzante’ so long as you bring your own bottle. What an excellent idea!

On the way out of the village we passed one of the several roadside shrines we saw today, this one as neglected as most of them but interesting in that it contained a tableau of the Last Supper rather than the more usual Virgin Mary or lonely pot of plastic flowers.

At Piverone, a small village twinned with Deg in Hungary, a very friendly woman stopped to ask where we’d come from and where we were heading next. She had excellent English, more than making up for our woefully inadequate Italian, and told us that the balmy temperatures of the last few days are not typical for this time of year. It seems we’re lucky to be comfortable walking in shorts in November, even this far south!

Piverone was completely asleep, with all shops closed, though a small church in the main street was open: the first one of the day. We have noticed that in the churches that are open, use of hand sanitiser on entry and seats labelled to ensure social distancing are still the norm. It seems Italy has not forgotten the trauma of its high rate of deaths from Covid, which hit this part of the country particularly badly.

Around the corner from the church the village administrative office had adopted a novel approach to fundraising for Unicef by making rag dolls, all very stylishly dressed and coiffed – as we’d expect in Italy.

Another stylish item caught Julie’s eye on the way out of Piverone: a downpipe draining the gutter of the gateway to a house. How delightful to make an artistic feature of something so utilitarian and mundane!

Back into the vineyards we meandered along the hillside towards our destination for the day, Viverone. By this time the rain had cleared and the sun was shining, though we could see some black clouds in the distance dumping rain elsewhere. So far we’ve had temperatures of around 23 degrees centigrade, but today was several degrees cooler.

Another isolated and ancient Romanesque church stands on a hillock between Piverone and Viverone. Sadly it has no roof but the remnants of frescoes are visible at the sheltered east end. It is known as the Gesuin church and dates from 1202.

Soon after we got our first glimpse of Lago di Viverone, shimmering in sunlight in the distance across acres of yellowing vineyards.

Our billet for tonight is located beside the lake and, with a balcony overlooking the lake, we were treated to a spectacular sunset across the water whilst watching our laundry drying.

Highlights of today? Walking through the vineyards, and tonight’s sunset were both special. More importantly, the hotel manager took pity on us and very kindly offered for the chef, who is his brother, to cook us a meal tonight as nowhere else in Viverone is open because the holiday season has ended, or because it’s Tuesday when everywhere that hasn’t closed for the winter closes for the night. We dined well with a glass of excellent local red wine and very happily too!

We are now used to the fact that many shops and restaurants are closed on Sundays and Mondays, so choosing where to eat last night was easy: we returned to the pizzeria we ate at last night which is open 7 days a week all year. They work very hard! Tottering back down the hill to our room we noticed an interesting sculpture in the middle of a roundabout with a circular stained glass which looked very similar to one we’d seen in July higher up the Aosta valley at St Remy-en-Bosses (day 81, depicting a pilgrim in front of the St Bernard Hospice. This one seems to depict a woman with traditional head covering and staff crossing the Roman bridge (the ‘Pont’). Is she a pilgrim? We can’t seem to find anything more about it.

We made another early start this morning, setting out well before the sun emerged over the mountain top. On the way out of town we were amused by a couple of notices about dog fouling. We certainly think there’s a dog problem here because instead of house alarms people seem to keep dogs which bark aggressively at anyone within earshot, regardless of whether they’re actually near the property they are supposed to be guarding. It becomes quite trying when walking through a quiet village minding your own business!

After a difficult scramble up through abandoned vineyards we came to a chapel, closed of course, but then wound our way around the hillside through well tended vineyards to the village of Carema, which was an absolute delight. We were interested to see that some of the old abandoned vineyards are being restored, some of which are perched on steep terraces, rather resembling the terrace gardens you see in Peru.

Onwards through more vineyards, along the main road to get past a narrowing of the valley, and passing through several more villages, the valley suddenly opened out to the south and west suggesting the end the the Alps and the start of the Po Valley plains. However, any thought that we were to have left the higher ground behind was quite wrong as our route continued to follow the western edge of a chain of foothills stretching southwards.

Not long after leaving Carema a young German hiker caught up with and we stopped for a chat. He told us about his night camping which had been disturbed by wild boar, unable to smell him and keep clear because of the wind. He assured us the boar were more frightened than he was! He also thought we must have been camping too, looking at the size of our rucksacks, but we explained that we’re just carrying too much stuff. He strode on ahead of us hoping to find somewhere he could stay and get a shower tonight, and we came upon him again later, sitting in a village square brewing tea on a stove and eating a second breakfast to lighten his pack. Perhaps if we ate more our packs too would get lighter!

At the village of Montalto Dora we dutifully followed the excellent signage for the Via Francigena, only to find ourselves taken on a detour of several kilometres to pass by a restaurant and circumnavigate three sides of a lake (Lago Sirio). It was beautiful, with a castle commanding the hill behind, but we could have done without the additional hour of walking, not least the several ups and downs on cobbles or rough gravels covered with fallen leaves which made for treacherous walking. We’ve noticed before how the route can be ’commandeered’ for commercial reasons like this – rather frustrating, especially as the likelihood of us stopping for a large lunch this late in the day’s stage was pretty unlikely.

Our route into Ivrea passed through an area of splendid villas in large gardens locked behind high metal gates. One amused us, perched high on the hillside with a glass lift shaft up from the garage to the level of the house, several storeys above. We found our accommodation, La Gusteria, not far from the castle in the old cobbled centre of Ivrea, tucked away on an inner courtyard, though as it’s Halloween tonight there is a lot going on in town.

Finding somewhere to eat proved a challenge as almost every restaurant is closed on Mondays, some when their web listings say they’re open. We eventually found a pizzeria on the main square and retired early to bed exhausted, ignoring the entry buzzer being raided intermittently by people out doing ’trick or treat’. Halloween seems to be a big thing in Ivrea judging by all the families who were out dressed up as witches.

Today was our opportunity to catch up on the day we missed in July from Chatillon to Verres. Having booked in for two nights at La Casa Antica, we were able to leave behind most of the contents of our packs and carry just what we needed for the day – a great relief for the first day back on the road after three months.

Mindful of the much reduced daylight hours compared with July, we opted for an early start. Taking the train from Pont Saint Martin to Chatillon we were on our way walking by 0800.

The sights and smells of autumn were much in our minds and on our noses. While many of the trees are still green, the ash leaves have mostly fallen, the oaks are dry brown, and the vines on the hillsides are looking thin with yellow-red leaves. Despite the sun not having risen high enough to hit the valley it was not cold, and fleeces were soon removed for a day in shorts and light-weight shirts rolled to the elbows.

We first walked up through Chatillon from the station, passing a Sunday market just getting underway in the main street, with tables of huge pumpkins for Halloween alongside an array of fresh vegetables. Climbing steadily we passed through a sequence of small hamlets, interspersed with small meadows, trees, and mostly abandoned vineyards. As we had found higher up the valley, there has been a lot of new building, a few renovations of very old buildings, and quite a number of abandoned houses in these remote villages.

Once we’d gained height to well above Chatillon we enjoyed a stretch of easy walking contouring around the hillside on old vineyard terraces until the path descended into St Vincent, the next town after Chatillon where the Aosta valley turns southwards.

We had the usual challenges with finding our way across the built up area of St Vincent, partly due to diversions around ’proprieta privata’ and partly for want of signage at critical points, but eventually emerged onto an Italian levada to continue contouring along the hillside for a while, spurred on by the gushing water in the channel beside us, while we crunched acorns and chestnuts under the soles of our boots.

This section of the walk was notable for the extensive mixed deciduous woodlands, which come into their own at this time of year and in a few weeks time will be a riot of autumnal colours. So enthralled were we by the lovely trees and easy walking we almost trashed some pretty but probably inedible mushrooms well camouflaged in the leaf litter underfoot – another wonderful picture of autumn.

At Chenal we came to the first of several pinch points where the valley narrows markedly, forcing railway or motorway or both into tunnels, watched over by old forts standing high on hillside spurs with commanding views: and therefore control of trade up and down the valley. Our path took us uphill around the back of the spur, emerging the other side to views down the valley.

A tiny hamlet at the top included a pilgrim B&B with a fine woodcarving of a pilgrim in the garden. What a fine staff he has! There have been days when we could have done with good solid sticks to fend off aggressive dogs.

After walking through some more woods we came upon the next impressive castle guarding another narrow gap in the valley. This one was in much better shape, and had what looked like a sizeable monastery nearby.

Having clambered around the back of this castle the valley opened out into a broad swathe of pastureland, with roads, railway and river winding across. A large hydroelectric scheme dominates the west side of the valley, and nearby there is (according to a sign beside the road) a Roman bridge, though we were unable to see it through the trees!

We were now nearing Montjovet, a village founded in Roman times and named after a Roman god. Today there are still Roman remains to be seen, including short sections of Roman road worn down by the thousands of carts which passed this way, probably carrying olive oil and wine from the south and taking cheeses, salami and local wines back.

In Montjovet we found a bench to sit for our lunch, though instead of facing the views up and down the valley it faced into a carpark. There is an Aosta Land Rover club and a Fiat Panda 4×4, we learned!

As we descended the valley the vegetation became more lush and green. It looks like it has recovered quickly after the summer drought which we were experiencing back in July.

Above Montjovet we came upon a high pasture with cows and tinkling cowbells which reminded us of our walks in the Pyrenees – in the days when we were fit enough to carry camping gear and food for a couple of weeks, enabling us to get up to the remote summer pastures. Here, the summer pastures are easily accessible during a day’s walk from the valley floor.

A final section of ups and downs in woods high on the hillside, and then a long and very steep descent, brought us down to the bottom of the valley and into Verres where we caught a train back to Pont Saint Martin, nursing our bashed toes and knees.

We were glad to complete the section of the walk we had to miss out in July, and even more glad not to have to carry full packs for our first full day back on the trail. The weather was very pleasant for walking – much better than the searing temperatures we endured in July – and the first hint of autumn has given us another perspective of the Aosta valley. Starting out as the sun was rising seemed to work well, so it’s an early night tonight and another early start tomorrow.

Well, all good plans etc……This morning, instead of being in Turin, ready to catch the train to Pont Saint Martin, we find ourselves on a train from Paris to Zurich, then another to Milan and two more to get to Pont Saint Martin some time this evening. Isn’t that a rather long way around? Yes, of course, but it’s apparently the only way we can get there!

Our Eurostar train to Paris was late leaving London, we were told because a passenger lost her watch and her travelling companion jammed himself in the carriage door to prevent the train from leaving! Eventually the police were called, the offending passenger was removed, and the train got on its way. There then followed the inevitable delays in the tunnel as we presumably missed our slot. By the time we reached Paris our planned one hour transfer time had evaporated and we missed our connection to Turin. Then while waiting for the SNCF staff to reallocate us we missed the next and last train of the day. Worse than that, weekend engineering works in the transalpine tunnel meant no more trains to Turin until early next week! Hey, ho we’re on a pilgrimage aren’t we? “Who so beset him so with dismal stories”!

So, after an enforced stay over in the Ibis Diderot courtesy of SNCF, and a very nice though unexpected Paris restaurant supper, we found ourselves at the Gare de Lyon at sparrowfart, negotiating our way onto a four hour train journey to Zurich. At least we’re on our way southwards!

We were relieved to find that the slip of paper given to us by SNCF staff in Paris to authorise our journey without proper tickets seemed to do the trick, though as it was Saturday the trains were all very crowded so we had no allocated seats. We were advised to sit in the buffet car initially and then see if there were any no-shows.

The train change in Zurich was a bit tight and saw lots of us running down the platform, aware that Swiss trains always run to time, but we made it onto the correct half of the train for Milan. The Swiss train guards also didn’t bat an eyelid over our scrap of paper. And so we wound our way through the Alps, past beautiful clear blue lakes and pretty villages, emerging south of the St Gotthard pass and down past Lake Como to Milan.

Another two changes of train saw us arrive at Pont Saint Martin about 6pm, tired but very glad to have got here at last!