It was farewell to Ornella this morning as I set off along the lakeside road. It was snowing gently but the air felt warm. I got a series of short lifts via Martigny and Sion to Brig. This sits at the foot of the Simplon Pass. I was advised by the last person who gave me a lift to take the train through the Simplon Tunnel rather than risk hitching on the Simplon Pass – the snow meant that there was a good chance the road would be closed and not much traffic would be risking that route.
I got talking to a South African girl in the station buffet bar while waiting for the train. Somehow, we got into discussing the meaning of life. The journey through the tunnel lasted about fifteen minutes. Unsurprisingly, there was not a lot to see. I disembarked at the first stop – Iselle Transito. My time machine tells me that this station is now permanently closed.
I suddenly felt lost when I left the station. I asked a group of women if I was in Italy. They seemed quite amused by this bewildered young English chap, but confirmed that I was indeed in Italy. I took the road out of town and marvelled at the scenery – mountains and forests, and a sparkling stream on its way to the valley below. As in Switzerland, I walked through small villages and settlements of shanty buildings. The green lushness of the mountainsides sprouted small chalets and churches.
I picked up a lift to Domodossola with a young couple and their daughter. She wrote “Milano” on a small placard for me to help with my next lift. Some drivers laughed and clapped as they drove by and others just shook their heads. A barking dog followed me for a while. I had a couple of short lifts that got me as far as the edge of Lake Maggiore. I noted earlier in the day that I had lost my road map somewhere, and now discovered I had also lost my International Youth Hostel handbook.
After walking along the lakeside for a little while, I picked up a lift with a…
small, wrinkled, tanned-skinned, gum-chewing, cigar-smoking “racing driver”
This rather keen Italian driver imagined the lakeside road was Brand’s Hatch – I had never been so frightened in a car before, and he kept looking at me to check my reaction. I casually commented on the “nice” St Christopher medallion he had on his dashboard. We stopped for a coffee and then set off again – but not before the driver had knocked back a shot of whisky. He dropped me off at the autostrada on the outskirts of Milan,
It was dark by this time, and all I could see was an ambulance, some police, and the toll booths for the autostrada. There was a sign that said “NO AUTOSTOP” – which meant no hitch-hiking. I stood there in a bit of a daze and a police officer asked me where I was going. I said “Venezia” (I was obviously fluent in Italian at this point), and he gave a strange kind of laugh as he pointed at my placard which said “Milano”. He warned me against hitching on the autostrada, but I soon picked up a lift on the slip road. This took me as far as the outskirts of Bergamo.
Being a bit naughty, I tried to get a lift on the autostrada, but drivers just flashed their lights at me. I wandered down the exit road, to be greeted by more police. I told them where I was heading and they advised me to try te get a lift at the toll booths. I picked up a lift to Brescia, and then another to the outskirts of Peshiera del Gardo. I remembered a short story by D. H. Lawrence – “On the Lago del Garda”. It contains a lovely quotation about the starry sky, but I have never been able to find it again.
It was rapidly approaching midnight and one of the guys in the toll booth suggested I find somewhere to sleep and to try again in the morning. It was getting cold. I wandered around for a bit, looking for a likely place. I found a kind of bridle path and climbed up a grass bank. I hunted around with my torch, spread out my groundsheet, tied myself to my backpack (which acted as a pillow) and bedded down in what I was wearing, apart from my boots.
Day 10 has been quite busy, hence the longer post. I crossed another border and had my first night sleeping in the great outdoors – all be it some kind of autostrada junction. I covered more than 450km today. Not bad going. But where will I end up tomorrow…?
Clues: On the road to a port city that is the capital of the Friuli Venezia Giulia region in northeast Italy.
Psychologist on the Move 