King and Queen for One Breakfast

Table for two. A charming aspect of distance walking in Italy is the vast variety of places we call home for a night. This dining room in a stately home in the lakeside village of Bolsena offered an omelet, yogurt, granola, jams, juice, fresh bread, coffee, and more. We felt like royalty! Our en suite bathroom was about the size of a bedroom.

Before we walked out of Tuscany, a Dutch trekker snapped this trailside photo.

What to do? The guidebook warned us that the last several miles of the Via Francigena on the way to Acquapendente “treacherously” traveled on a busy highway and it advised taking a bus from Centeno, a tiny enclave of homes.

As we took in the crazy scene of speeding (60 mph-plus) trucks, cars, and motorcycles on a narrow road with NO space for walkers, we split off into Centeno, intending to take the bus. Then this fast-talking Italian emerged from his home. We understood not a word he said, but he pointed to his car, then to himself and to us, and finally pantomimed holding a steering wheel.

As he sped us toward Acquapendente, our view of the highway trail confirmed that we had made a decision for our survival by avoiding walking on the road. He dropped us at the village piazza (above).

During our more than 2,300 miles of distance trekking, the stretch of highway/trail easily wins the prize for most dangerous. The ride was well worth 20 euro, and we got the feeling that our driver regularly rescues Francigena pilgrims.

The Tale of Two Tuscan Cities

Our view of our destination from the Via Francigena.
The tower city in our rear-view mirror.

We left behind San Gimignano—the tower city—and followed the Via Francigena to Monteriggioni—the walled city.

It was a day of ups and downs, showing off gorgeous Tuscan views from a sometimes rugged trail along with many miles of arduous and even dangerous road walking.

At one water crossing, longer and trickier than the one in the photo above, a young guy yelled out as I started, “Need some help?” Thanks to practice on the John Muir Trail, I handled the crossing on my own with no problem. I am fighting taking offense, though, when a whippersnapper assumes that my age makes me feeble.

By the end of nearly nine hours, we covered nearly 19 miles and 2,400 feet of ascent, including a final push up an achilles-testing climb to the imposing walled city.

In one day, our feet covered two of the most beautiful places in all of Italy.