|
After
our experiences in '95, neither of us wanted to go to Germany again,
and in '96 we put our efforts into the allotment, but
Wolf had got the wanderlust, and was full of romantic tales about how as a lad he had piled into a car
with his German mates and driven down to the Med, or the Italian Lakes. We had
also discovered the wonderful 'bike bus' - a cyclist's dream come
true! Run by a chap in Middlesbrough, they had luxury coaches with trailers attached, in which your
bike went, they picked up at Leeds and did three different routes down
through France.
Wolf raved about the Alps, and he wanted to go to Como. I
was not keen. When you are on a bike, it helps to be able
to talk to people, and
I did not know any Italian. But Wolf was set on it, so I gave in.
Before we set off, we
felt uneasy. Neither of us
wanted to go. Struggling against the feeling, we set out for Leeds, where I had
booked us in a hotel for the night, ready for the bus at 7am next
morning. We felt worse in the hotel, so I got the cards out. I
never travel without them. I drew three cards and they were dire. There was Death,
the Tower, and something else as bad. I looked at
Wolf and said, "If someone came to me for advice, and she got these
cards, I would say she was a fool to go."
|
Wolf
said, "If you think that, we should go home." I put off deciding until morning. "Let's go
for the bus, and if either of us feels strongly we should not go, we
won't." But we went. We had not slept in the hotel, and we did not
sleep on the bus, and we never saw the Alps, as we went over during the night. We could feel the bus
straining up the slopes, and the air was colder. That was all. We were bushed when we reached Como at 7am next morning and the
way to the Lake was a steep descent, filled with terrifying
traffic and multiple lanes which I found it hard to negotiate, never mind Wolf with his residual vision. I was scared for him. We reached the waterfront and
got on the boat to Menaggio, where I had booked us in a hostel for the
first night. There was a thick, cold mist and a party of school children
tried to improve their English with us. We were not in the mood. All we
wanted was sleep. But the hostel said we could not come in until 5pm, and we went to find a
campsite.
There were two in the village, they said, but we could only find
one. It was deserted. We pitched our tent. There was a dilapidated shower
block and a notice saying there would be hot water between the hours of 6
and 8 am. We gave up and went to look round Menaggio. |