Italian Road Trip ... again

[Owain]

Rather than start a new one, I've decided to resurrect my Italian Road Trip thread to record this year's Italian Job, which was by far the most ambitious I've ever undertaken. In the past I was married to a Sardinian, so on the previous occasions when I drove from England to Italy in my own car, Sardinia was always the ultimate destination. I did that five times between 2010 and 2015, three times in the summer, and twice in the winter.

Now things are different, so I opted to just blow a load of cash on a road trip that I would never forget. This year's ultimate destination, then, was Santa Maria di Leuca, at the very tip of the heel of the peninsula. As I also have an unashamedly geeky love of driving the whole length of classified routes (see the "Roads I've Driven in Their Entirety" thread), I wanted to factor in the ss17, the Italian equivalent of an A road that runs down the central part of the spine of Italy. It did not disappoint!

On 15 June I drove from Leeds to Stansted airport to meet my new girlfriend, who was flying over from Ireland. From there, we drove to Ipswich (which was one of only four locations in the UK where I could pick up my new digital camera, the old one having perished after a fall down the steps at the Giant's Causeway), then through London on the A12-Blackwall-A2 route for pure sabristic curiosity, and onward to Dover, speeding as quickly as possible through the Brexit stronghold of Kent. Ironically, the owner of the excellent restaurant we visited in Dover turned out to be Sardinian.

On 16 June we went to take the first ferry for Calais, but missed it on account of the port being clogged up with football hooligans heading to some match in Lille, and motorsports fans heading to the Le Mans 24Hrs. Eventually we squeezed through all the BMWs, Audis and VWs sporting England flags, and the Bentleys, Jags, MGs, and Lotuses (Loti?) brandishing chequered flags, and just made it aboard the 09.10 DFDS sailing for Calais.

After being ripped off by the girl in the bar on the boat, who was even worse at maths than I am(!), we arrived in Calais at 11.40 local time. From there, we set course for Courmayeur, just inside the Italian border, arriving at about 22.00. Route: A26-A4-A26-A5-A31-A39-A40-N205-Mont Blanc Tunnel. We stayed at Lo Scoiattolo (The Squirrel) hotel, where I decided to break the habit of a lifetime and raid the minibar as a reward for successfully driving across France in a day .... again.

[Truvelo]

I went to Leuca as I was working in southern Italy for ten days in 2013. Most people on here know how much I like driving, especially abroad in places I've never been but I hated every minute of it. The hire car was a Toyota Aygo as anything bigger was totally unaffordable. The whole area was like a third world shanty town with beggars everywhere, bin bags spilling out at the sides of roads, buildings covered in graffiti, roads falling to bits, cars at night without lights because they are smashed. Red traffic lights means go, cars don't stop coming out of side roads. The only decent roads are the tolled Autostrada but even they are plagued by scruffy beggars asking for money at the toll booths.

I wish you well on your trip but I would feel safer driving in Mexico

[Owain]

We spent a relaxing morning in Courmayeur before shunning the autostrada and heading at leisurely pace (think of the Minis in the Michael Caine version of The Italian Job) down the ss26 to Ivrea. There we did join the autostrada, following the A4 past Milan in rush hour, arriving at Lake Garda by nightfall. That was the day that I broke my 100mph/160kph duck; ah, the Italians .... if you cannot beat them, join them!

However, I have already related the tales of the tailgating that goes on during rush hour on the A4 on Numpty Overload; some of it truly terrifying. It's not like me to shy away from the outside lane of the motorway, but in order to preserve my trusty old car from the scrap heap and prolong my life a little, I opted for what I think the Italian roads section of CBRD used to describe as 'the lane of shame'; yes, lane 1, where no Italian ever ventures, and where it is consequently possible to do a lot of undertaking.

We survived the two big smashes that we saw, and I explained how to use a self-service pre-pay petrol pump to some Dutch people, before spending the night at Riva del Garda, where we stayed at the Gran Hotel Riva del Garda, which had a fabulous view over the lake.

ROUTE: Courmayeur-Riva del Garda ss26dir-ss26-join A5 at Ivrea-A4/A5 link road-A4 to Peschiera del Garda-S249

[Owain]

The following day we drove down to Gargnano del Garda for breakfast (cappuccino), a place I know well, having been to a conference there some years ago.

As we drove through the village, I read the lips of a passing Italian: "Ma che macchina è?" (What kind of car is that?). This is something that happens a lot when you drive a Rover 75 around Italy. And I never tire of it!

We returned to the autostrada, taking the A4 to Padova and the A13 to Baone near Monselice, where we stayed a couple of days at the Ca'Orologio agriturismo (B&B on an organic farm/vineyard). During this time, we stumbled across a classic car rally in the town of Este, some embarrassingly poor photos of which I have already posted on "Cars You Never See Any More".

After a few days there, we headed onward to my favourite Italian city, Perugia, via lunch in the Republic of San Marino, and a very bumpy ride down the the ss3bis / E45. This was also the point at which I made the machine that goes "bing!" in the Alfa Romeo of a couple of Carabinieri go "bing!", on account of the limit being 70kph where I passed them at 100+. They looked up at me, were already engaged in processing a ticket for an unlucky Italian who must have passed through their trap just seconds before, so I got away with it.

Once in Perugia, in Umbria - the heart of Italy, we stayed at the comical Chocohotel (yes, it really is a chocolate-themed hotel, which my partner got ridiculously excited about), and had dinner at the Ristorante Da Cesarino (spin the GSV camera around to see the medieval piazza at the heart of the city). Perugia is a magnificent city, but not the easiest to get to (when flying) from the UK.

Our journey continued via the afore-mentioned, brutally potholed, ss3bis / E45, where something fell of the bottom off my car in 2010 (but it didn't seem important, so I didn't worry about it). We drove through Terni and visited the Cascate delle Marmore (Waterfalls of Marmore) before driving through the hills on very rural roads to Rieti.

We then entered Abruzzo, a new region for me, even though I must have visited Italy about 50 times. Beside getting exciting from the point of view of being an Italianist, this was also the point where things started to get really exciting regarding the driving

ROUTE: Baone-Perugia sp6-sp5-A13-A14-ss72-San Marino (unclassified)-sp258-ss3bis/E45

[roadtester]

That was the day that I broke my 100mph/160kph duck...

Surely if you're going for cricket metaphors, that's a century rather than a duck?

Looking forward to the next instalment!

[Owain]

I went to Leuca as I was working in southern Italy for ten days in 2013. Most people on here know how much I like driving, especially abroad in places I've never been but I hated every minute of it. The hire car was a Toyota Aygo as anything bigger was totally unaffordable. The whole area was like a third world shanty town with beggars everywhere, bin bags spilling out at the sides of roads, buildings covered in graffiti, roads falling to bits, cars at night without lights because they are smashed. Red traffic lights means go, cars don't stop coming out of side roads. The only decent roads are the tolled Autostrada but even they are plagued by scruffy beggars asking for money at the toll booths.

I wish you well on your trip but I would feel safer driving in Mexico

I have actually completed the trip, and I survived! And I've lived in Londonderry, so there's not much in Italy that can ruffle me!!

I know what you mean about some aspects of southern Italy appearing really quite scary to the British motorist, but it's nowhere near as bad as it looks. The beggars, and people who try to sell you things at the traffic lights, are annoying. During this trip I stopped at a red light and immediately a guy jumped out of a house and started cleaning my windscreen, despite my girlfriend and I banging on the glass, waving our hands, and telling him to back away from the car (this is when deadlocks come in handy). When he realised which side of the car the driver was sitting on, he came round to beg me for payment. I responded by jumping the red light and driving over an S1 bridge to leave him behind. Thankfully the bridge was just wide enough for vehicles to pass, despite all the traffic coming the other way flashing at me as though I was a clueless tourist who didn't know what I was doing!

That was the day that I broke my 100mph/160kph duck...

Surely if you're going for cricket metaphors, that's a century rather than a duck?

Looking forward to the next instalment!

A dearly departed former member whom I keep trying to persuade to return to Sabre, and who used to write blogs like these, has ribbed me about never having topped a ton, so as it is only a tad faster than much of the traffic on the autostrada, I decided that would be the place.... and I developed a taste for it. I just have to remember not to do it in the UK!

My laptop's battery ran out, but I'll post the more roads-related part of the trip during the weekend.

[Owain]

So. The ss17 "dell'Appennino Abruzzese ed Appulo-Sannitico". This was one of the F137 of the Italian strade statali ('state roads') classified by Mussolini's government in 1927 (and therefore equivalent of Great Britain's F99 of 1922).

In order to get to the start of it, I had to drive up the ss4 "Via Salaria", the Rome-Porto d'Ascoli highway running right across central Italy, from Rieti to the source of the ss17 at Antrodoco. As you can see from the link, the ss17 begins at a mundane T junction, but it ascends in a majestic manner from the valley through which the ss4 runs, through a series of sweeping curves that make motoring in rural Italy such a dream. It seems that the road has been re-worked since it was first classified, in order to make the curves wider, easier and quicker. The largest on this part of the road has been built out from the hillside using a flyover that sweeps out over the railway, whereas the original, much tighter Fascist-era line of the road is still evident as an orphaned piece of tarmac on the inside of the modern curve.

As we accelerate up the hill,we pass a couple of Case Cantoniere. These were Fascist-era constructions that were built at regular intervals along Italy's new highways. They provided accommodation for the men whose responsibility it was to maintain the roads, as well as offering food and shelter to travellers who might find their journey through Italy's mountainous, rural, and surprisingly inhospitable countryside curtailed by nightfall or bad weather. Most of them are ruined these days, but some have found a benefactor kind enough to spend money restoring and preserving them. The first Casa Cantoniera on the ss17 is in surprisingly good condition, and appears to have found a second life as somebody's house. Note number and name of the road etched onto the white plaque on the side of the building. From here on, the road passes through magnificent and largely unspoiled Italian countryside, with only a few occasional villages punctuating the route until we pass through a fabulous tree-lined avenue and over the border from Umbria into Abruzzo.

Before too long (could it ever be too long on roads like this?) we pass through L'Aquila, the capital of the region that was hit by an earthquake in 2009, that killed some 300 people, devastated the city centre, and prompted the then Italian prime minister Silvio Berlusconi to tell the inhabitants that they should treat their ordeal in emergency accommodation "like a camping holiday". Nice one, Silvio. The signs of the quake are still visible, with countless buildings supported by scaffolding, and parts of the city looking like a ghost town.

It was here that I attracted the attention of the Polizia di Stato. This is one of the drawbacks of driving an unusual car with a foreign number plate around a part of Italy where tourists don't go. As I proceeded along an urban dual carriageway, taking care to stick to 50kph and resisting the temptation to get into races with Italians, I know that I was going to get stopped when a Seat Leon (it's a disgrace that the Italian police have started using Spanish cars) drew up alongside and shadowed me for about half a kilometre. They dropped into lane 1 behind me, and instead of using the blues and twos, just tooted at me and indicated right. I pulled over in a car park outside a bar (double-parking, in true Italian style ... I thought they'd like that). A very serious and immaculately groomed officer with one hell of a regional accent asked if I spoke Italian. When I replied in Italian, he then asked if I was English or Italian, which I'll take as an complimentary endorsement of my Italian, which is quite dodgy (and a bit Sardinian). I replied that I did, and he asked to see my "documenti". I misunderstood him, and produced the registration and insurance documents for my car. He then clarified by asking for "passaporti", whereupon I realised that he wanted to know who we were and why we were there. He asked if we were on holiday, and I told him that we were driving "tutta la lunghezza d'Italia" (all the length of Italy). He seemed satisfied with this, returned the passports to me, and said "arrivaderci". As they drove off, they even gave us a friendly little toot and a wave.

I'm glad I didn't meet them again on the stretch of road after L'Aquila, which consisted of a massive long straight followed by some of the most magnificent curves and countryside that I've ever seen. This piece of road prompted squeaks of delight from my travelling companion, who seems to enjoy being thrown around corners in one-and-a-half tonnes of potatoes British car sitting on top of German Z-axle suspension. Honestly, I've done some great drives in Italy, but this piece of road really was worth driving across a continent to experience.

Once we'd descended - both from the mountains and from the metaphorical high of seeing (yet again) how much fun a Rover 75 can be - we joined the ss5 "Via Tiburtina", which crosses Italy from Rome to Pescara, to find our accommodation. It was on the ss5, heading away from Rome towards the Adriatic, that my passenger - who was becoming accustomed to sudden history lectures - spotted the fingerprints of Mussolini's regime on a hill high above the road. There, written in the trees in a 1930s font and obviously dating from the Fascist era, was the world "DVX" - Latin for Duce, or leader - which was Mussolini's title throughout his dictatorship. This photo will definitely be going into my lecture slides (possibly with the car in it too; my car has quite a following among my students).

ROUTE: Perugia-Tocco Da Casauria
ss3bis/E45 to Terni - ss79 to Cascate delle Marmore - sp209 to Fontechiaruccia - sp4 to Lago di Piediluco - ss79 to Rieti - ss4 to Antrodoco - ss17 via L'Aquila to Popoli - ss5 to Tocco Da Casauria

[Owain]

It was on the morning of the day that we left Abruzzo that I heard the news about the outcome of the EU referendum. As with 9/11, I will always remember precisely where I was, and how I felt. I was distraught, but Italy and its roads soon alleviated the pain.

We resumed where we had left off on the ss17, at the multiplex where it takes precedence over the ss5. That brought us to a section of road that I have long looked at on a map and wanted to drive. It did not disappoint. Climbing into the wilderness right in the centre of the Italian peninsula, the ss17 is majestic at this point. It has a new surface, is wide and sweeping, comprising S2W and S2+1 (unusual in Italy). Once up in the hills, I stopped to take a few sabristic pictures:

- one showing the ss17's 116km marker post, and a second sign warning motorists that the police might be operating speed checks (yeah, right!)

- a second showing the village of Pettorano sul Gizio in the valley below the road, and a couple of old concrete bollards that must have marked the edge of the road in its earlier, slightly twistier form (these are also visible in the above photo, just to the right of the modern crash barrier)

- and one giving a good view of the highway, a modern tunnel, and a viaduct beyond.

Once I'd tired of making passing truck drivers wonder what I was taking photos of, I went on to discover that this magnificent bridge has been closed, apparently as a result of structural issues, forcing us to follow the diversion through the village of Rocca Pia (Holy Rock). After that, we began the descent into Molise, and 'the foot'; real southern Italy. Here the road took on a weirdly sub-Alpine appearance, boasting those snow stick thingies (to use the technical term) at the side of the carriageway, and a hotel that looked like it ought to be in the Alps rather than the Italian south.

It was here that disaster struck, and I inadvertently allowed the ANAS people (Italy's national roads authority) to direct me onto the modern ss17var, which is a modern diversion of the ss17, that meant that I missed a section of the road I'd driven to Italy to drive! Ah, nevermind. Before long, this modern highway brought us down into Isernia, one of the main cities of Molise, whereupon the landscape changed.

[Owain]

It was at Isernia in Molise that I managed to resume the ss17 'proper', and promptly pulled over for a cigarette even though I don't smoke. While enjoying my puff, I snapped another Casa Cantoniera that is located at the entrance to the town.

It was quite a thrill to be at Isernia, a name that has cropped up not infrequently in my professional writing, as a remote outpost from which the new Italian government struggled to assert its control over rural southern Italy during the years after national unification in 1861. It also dawned on me that when out in the countryside, I was driving through territory that had, during that period, been real bandit country. It was, however, more populous than the hills of Abruzzo, with other cars now becoming a more frequent fixture on the road. The nature of the landscape changed too, as it does sometimes when passing from one English county to another. Agriculture also became far more visible, the south-eastern corner of Italy being one of the country's breadbaskets.

Down near Campobasso disaster struck again, as I lost the ss17 once more when the ANAS people directed me along the ss87 and ss645 through Campobasso itself in order to avoid the twisty old 17 (which I was unable to locate on the digital map that I have in my smartphone). This is annoying, because it means that I eventually arrived in Foggia at the terminus of our ss17 without having faithfully followed the whole route. It could be argued that the route I followed ought to be numbered ss17 because of its superiority over the old road, but that is unlikely ever to happen because, as I remember reading in the international section of CBRD when I first discovered roads on the internet, in Italy "road numbers are sacred".

Nonetheless, the last stretch of the ss17, as it sweeps across the plain into northern Puglia, is quite impressive, being fast, unburdened by traffic, and often built on stilts.

I also discovered that the wide-angle lens on my new camera can distort my car so that it looks like it was built with British Leyland hydragas suspension.

From here, it was on to Foggia, and the end of the ss17. After accidentally driving straight into the middle of Foggia, we met a no entry sign and had to squeeze the car round this corner and up this street; it looks fine on GSV, but when we got stuck there, it was littered with washing lines, kids toys, and people sitting on doorsteps looking like they might be tempted to chance a car-jacking (much to my girlfriend's amusement). Eventually we extricated ourselves from the maze of Foggia's historic centre, and vowed never to go back there because it really is an awful dustbowl of a town.

Having escaped without being robbed, kidnapped, or shot, we then joined the ss16 "Adriatica", the coastal cousin of the 17, which is the longest road in Italy at just over 1000km in length, stretching the whole length of the Adriatic coast. This took us down past Barletta, scene of a massacre of Protestants by Catholics led by a sadistic priest in 1866, and Bari, the regional capital of Puglia, to the point at Fassano where we turned inland and followed the ss172dir passed through the land of trulli houses, unique to the region of Puglia. There, we found our next accommodation, the Masseria Pilano agriturismo, located in open countryside not far from the town of Martina Franca.

ROUTE: Tocco Da Casauria to Masseria Pilano
ss5 to Popoli - ss 17 to Foggia (accidentally using ss17var and ss86-ss645 ) - ss16 to Fassano - ss 172dir to Martina Franca - ss172 and sp49 to Masseria Pilano

[bothar]

It was at Isernia in Molise that I managed to resume the ss17 'proper', and promptly pulled over for a cigarette even though I don't smoke. While enjoying my puff, I snapped another Casa Cantoniera that is located at the entrance to the town.

Casa Cantoniera.jpg

It was quite a thrill to be at Isernia, a name that has cropped up not infrequently in my professional writing, as a remote outpost from which the new Italian government struggled to assert its control over rural southern Italy during the years after national unification in 1861. It also dawned on me that when out in the countryside, I was driving through territory that had, during that period, been real bandit country. It was, however, more populous than the hills of Abruzzo, with other cars now becoming a more frequent fixture on the road. The nature of the landscape changed too, as it does sometimes when passing from one English county to another. Agriculture also became far more visible, the south-eastern corner of Italy being one of the country's breadbaskets.

If I recall, Molise used to be one of the more unusual registrations to see on a car in Italy.

From here, it was on to Foggia, and the end of the ss17. After accidentally driving straight into the middle of Foggia, we met a no entry sign and had to squeeze the car round this corner and up this street; it looks fine on GSV, but when we got stuck there, it was was littered with washing lines, kids toys, and people sitting on doorsteps looking like they might be tempted to chance a car-jacking (much to my girlfriend's amusement). Eventually we extricated ourselves from the maze of Foggia's historic centre, and vowed never to go back there because it really is an awful dustbowl of a town.

In Italy you often find an "unknown" town to have hidden wonders and to be a surprisingly nice place to visit. My recollection of Foggia is the opposite.

[Owain]

If I recall, Molise used to be one of the more unusual registrations to see on a car in Italy.

They certainly would be! Molise is one of the smallest regions of Italy, comprising only two provinces. Hence, both old- and new-style Italian number plates from Molise will either have "IS" (Isernia) or "CB" (Campobasso) provincial identifiers. They would be rare because they would be far fewer in number than those from big provinces such as "MI" (Milan) or "TO" (Turin), and also - I'd imagine - because the people from Molise, being quite a poor and very rural area, would be less likely to travel around the rest of the country than people from the big affluent cities.

In Italy you often find an "unknown" town to have hidden wonders and to be a surprisingly nice place to visit. My recollection of Foggia is the opposite.

That is very true, and I've discovered many wonderful towns that are relatively unknown to tourists. Massa Marittima in Tuscany, just for starters.

However, my girlfriend is from Derry, which is probably why she thought that taking a wrong turn meant we were about to die.

[Owain]

We stayed at the Masseria Pilano, getting to know the owners Pierpaolo and Manuela quite well over the course of a few days. They have cows, bees, frogs (probably uninvited) and an olive grove, and they produce and sell honey and olive oil. In the coming years they plan to plant a vineyard growing Primitivo (red) and Fiano (white) grapes, the two classic grape varieties of Puglia. I will be keeping in touch with them, and going back when the wine is ready!

We also got to know Puglia, one of the most distinctive and interesting regions of Italy (if you like food and wine). On the first day we took a walk about the centro storico (historic centre) of Taranto, one of Italy's major ports and a lively fish market based on a kind of 'chopped off' isthmus that I've long wanted to see. Taranto is also a major port for the Italian navy, and naval history buffs will probably still be wondering why Mussolini didn't order the fleet out of port to capture Malta during the autumn of 1940, leaving the RAF to bomb (I think) three battleships in the harbour with devastating consequences.

From there we travelled to Brindisi along the ss7 "Via Appia", because I wanted to see the historic end of the Roman road by which grain was imported to Italy from Egypt. The two ancient Roman columns marking the end of the route are still there. It was also something of a thrill to drive on the modern Via Appia, the ss7 being one of Italy's more interesting roads, and one where again I couldn't resist taking a picture of another Casa Cantoniera that was in good condition. Note the number and name of the road, as well as the number of kilometres from its source in Rome, etched into the side of the building. I love these features!

I also wanted to visit Brindisi because it features in my doctoral thesis and in my forthcoming book, as the port from which the British government decided to send the imperial mail after a number of metaphorical stars came into line during the 1860s:

- 1859-61, Unification of Italy
- 1860 laying of telegraph lines through Italy to Malta
- 1861-67, construction of continuous railway line from Turin/Milan to Brindisi
- 1868, opening of fell railway over the Alps, over Mont Cenis, connecting London/Paris to Turin
- 1869, opening of Suez Canal
- 1871, opening of first tunnel through the Alps, replacing the Mont Cenis fell railway
- 1872, publication of Jules Verne's Around the World in 80 Days, in which Phileas Fogg uses precisely the Brindisi route to speed around the world.

My own book (a work of academic history, and not a novel) argues that the British had a set of vested interests in the Unification of Italy. One of these was the fact the country was united as constitutional monarchy not unlike the Victorian model, in a Europe that then consisted otherwise mostly of autocratic states. Another was the fact that it brought the nineteenth-century communications revolution to Italy, making a united Italy part of an international highway through which the British could communicate with Malta, and the rest of their far-flung empire. I might actually finish the book if I spend a little less time on Sabre.

However, after devouring a dish of pasta with chunks of octopus in the sauce (to the horror of my travelling companion), my penchant for Fascist architecture led me to get distracted by the impressive modernist lighthouse at the mouth of the harbour. I appreciate that there might be some sabristi who will be more interested in the fuel pumps than the lighthouse, which is why they're included in the shot. This photo also demonstrates the remarkable and annoying similarity between the Italian and Irish flags when the Italian one has faded, as often happens in the kind of sunshine you get in Brindisi (although my partner insisted that this was an Irish one).

In the succeeding days, we got to know Puglia well, visiting the white city of Ostuni (some Wikipedia photos here), the hilltop town of Locorotondo (which means "round place"), and the trulli-dominated tourist trap of Alberobello (which means "beautiful tree", although the name should really be an Italian translation of "Place where all the locals try to make you buy stuff"). We also ventured over the border (enjoying a fantastic road race against a guy in a black Fiesta in the process; he won) to the region of Basilicata, where we saw the Sassi di Matera (famous enough to have a page in English), the so-called 'shame of Italy', where people still lived in caves as recently as the 1950s. Matera was also the place where a bar I visited appeared to receive a visit from a bunch of local mafiosi, the 'protection agents', who looked more like they came from the Philippines than from southern Italy; something I have never seen before in any of my fifty-odd visits to the country. If my understanding of the situation was correct, I can only feel glad for the sake of the nice young men and women running the bar that the Italian government has made great strides in recent years towards the eradication of this scourge of the south.

The most special moment of our time in Puglia, though, was managing to get down to Santa Maria di Leuca, at the very tip of the heel. I have always wanted to drive the entire length of my favourite country, and in doing so I have probably become the only person in the world to do it in a Rover 75. I found it touching, in light of recent events, that the Italians choose to mark the end of their territory not only with an Irish faded Italian flag, but also with the stars of the European Union.

[Owain]

I've never understood the people who say "It's nice to go on holiday, but it's always nice to get back home again". No, it isn't. If it was so wonderful to be at home, you wouldn't go on holiday in the first place. I love Leeds, but it ain't Italy.

Anyway, having driven the entire length of Italy for the first time, I had to return home so that I could plan how I am going to drive the length of Italy a second time next year, while occasionally going to work in between. We drove back from Puglia to England almost directly, but with a couple of brief stops en route. The first of these was at the Puglian coastal resort of Polignano a Mare, where I didn't have time to visit any of the Greek or Roman remains linked through the Wikipedia article, but where I did drink an excellent birra cruda (malty Italian beer, 7.6%), and took a good walk to admire the view while allowing the alcohol to burn off before getting back in the car.

It was also the place where, for the very first time, I saw the little Italian sportscar that I've decided to buy as a regular runaround when I semi-retire my Rover 75. It was my intention to buy the Fiat in advance of next year's Italian Job ... but I have this nagging feeling that driving to Italy just wouldn't feel the same without the 75.

After Polignano, we headed up the ss16 "Adriatica" to Bari, and joined the A14, which was Italy's longest autostrada until the A1 was extended from Rome to Naples, swallowing up the A2 in the process, back in 1988. I like the A14. It was almost empty for well over a hundred kilometres, and I drove most of the way from Bari to the Ascoli Piceno exit somewhere in the region of 100mph, only really easing off under the regular "Sistema Tutor" average speed cameras (I know this seems pointless, but I don't have an Italian number plate), and in the twisty section north of Pescara where I felt a little nervy taking some of the curves at 90, not least because of the metal strips in the road surface which cause the car to lose grip for a fraction of a second every time it passes over one of the stilts on which the autostrada is built.

ROUTE Masseria Pilano to Montalto delle Marche
Various local roads (sabristic way of saying "I'm not sure which way I went") to Polignano a Mare - ss16 from Polignano to Bari - A14 to Ascoli Piceno - ss4 - sp237 to Comunanza - sp238 to Montalto delle Marche. The last little stretch of this journey was very frustrating, because all the little roads into the hills north of Ascoli were shut for some reason, forcing us to go the long way round to reach our accommodation.

We stayed in the beautiful and largely undiscovered region of Marche for a few days, without making any significant excursions of sabristic interest. I should point out, though, that Marche has the most quintessentially Italian countryside of anywhere we went this year, as the view from our accommodation at the Terre Vineate agriturismo shows.

I remember mentioning this view in a post to Helvellyn, although I forget why. Sabristi might be interested to know that from here, in the idyllic and fertile countryside just outside the lovely village of Montalto delle Marche ("High Mountain of the Marches"), you can see the Gran Sasso d'Italia ("Big Rock of Italy"), the highest mountain of the Italian Apennines. It's the distant peak lurking behind the hilltop village in my photo, quite some distance away, and over the border in Abruzzo. From this base we also visited the largest fortress in Italy at Civitella del Tronto; this was particularly interesting for me, as it was the last stronghold to resist the Unification of Italy in 1861. Besides spectacular views and imposing architecture, it has an excellent museum with weapons, uniforms, documents, and pictures dating from the era.

Apart from a fantastic evening in Ascoli Piceno, a stunning and largely unknown city where the local authorities were staging a rock concert where everything was performed by kids - which was surprisingly good, despite being somewhat reminiscent of the closing scene of Love Actually - that was it for Marche. Oh yes, apart from the bit where I had to take my partner to the beach, because she was All-Ireland National Swimming Champion five years running in the 1990s, and needs to be in water whenever she's near it. Most of my attempts at swimming result in near-death experiences, so I just drove her to the Adriatic for an hour, and hoped she wouldn't get too much sand in the car.

After Marche, we headed for Ivrea, and a two night stop with a relaxing day in between, because I know that when the end of my holidays arrive, I'm always faced with a marathon drive back to the UK. Indeed, on Sunday 3 July, I had to drive straight from there to Leeds.

ROUTE: Montalto delle Marche to Ivrea
sp238 to Pedaso - A14 to Bologna - A1 - A21 - A26 - A26/A4 link - A4/A5 link - arrive at the functional but comfortable, well-located, and very reasonably priced Hotel Crystal Palace, Ivrea.

My penchant for driving across France in a day (because I cannot speak any French, despite being able to read almost all of it) has attracted the interest of a number of sabristi, so I'll provide the details in note form:

13.16 - entered Mont Blanc Tunnel (according to time on ticket)
ROUTE across France: N205 - A40 - A39 - A31 - A5 - A26 - A4 - A26
22.45 - arrive at Calais after lots of coffee and cigarette breaks, and obeying speed limits because French police are not like Italian police
23.15 - DFDS Calais-Dover
23.45 (UK time) - arrive Dover; drive to Stansted airport. Sleep in car.
06.00 - leave Irish holidaymaker in the hands of Irish airline
10.00 - arrive in Leeds. Go to work bed.

I'll conclude with a shot of a faithful old car and a pensive travelling partner taken just at the mouth of the Mont Blanc Tunnel. One didn't want to leave Italy, but the other will go wherever I go.

[Enceladus]

Great commentary/mini-blog on your Italian road adventures Owain. I've been to Italy a few times - either in the North (Lake Garda/Milan/Venice) or Rome.

Driving in Italy certainly seems like a bit of a challenge. I and my former partner hired a car in Verona and found Italian drivers to be very aggressive - tailgating on the Autostrada to get you to pull in to the slow lane, coming out of side roads at full speed etc. But we were told that driving standards in the North are very good compared to the South of the country!

I would love to visit the South and I plan to do so but I'd be a bit reticent about driving there!

[Owain]

Great commentary/mini-blog on your Italian road adventures Owain.

Thanks - I'm glad you enjoyed it

I've been to Italy a few times - either in the North (Lake Garda/Milan/Venice) or Rome.

Driving in Italy certainly seems like a bit of a challenge. I and my former partner hired a car in Verona and found Italian drivers to be very aggressive - tailgating on the Autostrada to get you to pull in to the slow lane, coming out of side roads at full speed etc. But we were told that driving standards in the North are very good compared to the South of the country!

I would love to visit the South and I plan to do so but I'd be a bit reticent about driving there!

I think it is very normal for drivers from Britain and Ireland to perceive Italian drivers as 'aggressive', but it is nowhere near as bad as it might at first appear.

The Italians are extremely casual in their observation of rules, whether they be speed limits, red lights, give way/yield markings, or hatched areas and solid white lines. They also lack the common courtesies that British and Irish people take for granted; don't ever expect any thanks for letting somebody out!

However, despite the tailgating, there is none of the naked aggression or competitiveness that is part of daily driving in England (sic). Italians will toot and gesticulate at each other, cut each other up, and ignore traffic priorities when they know that the move will work, but you see none of the 'most be in front' attitudes, nor the angry 'must get him back' kind of rows that go on and on from one roundabout to the next on English roads. Usually the person who's been cut up or tooted at will just ignore it, and even if they don't it is forgotten in moments. Generally speaking, the Italians are an easy-going people, and they're all just trying to get somewhere.

There can be a lot going on in cities, so you do need to keep your eyes peeled (especially for the mopeds), but driving in the open countryside is pure joy. The secret in both environments is to stay calm, enjoy being there, and don't allow yourself to feel intimidated. The Rough Guide to Italy advises visitors to be passive but assertive; 'make it clear what you are going to do, and then do it'. It's good advice. My ex-wife noted during a trip to Lazio that if somebody wants to force their way out on you, they will do it if they know you've seen them! I put this to the test when a guy threatened to come across the road while I had right of way; I just stared fixedly at the road ahead, refusing to make eye contact with him and keeping my foot down, and despite the fact that his massive Audi was already half way across the road, he deferred to my little Fiat hire car.

I am (I'm afraid) instinctively a racer, and this means that on my various trips I've had *a lot* of fun on Italian roads, especially when I've encountered Italians who are like me! But even for those who are not racers and just like to cruise around, driving in Italy can be a tremendously liberating experience from the stressful grind of driving in England, especially if you are in a rural area, or driving at lunchtime when nobody else is on the roads. In fact, one of the reasons I enjoyed driving in Ireland when I lived there was because it reminded me of Italy, because of the space and the generally easygoing nature of the other road users.

Therefore, once you relax and get used to the characteristics of Italian drivers, driving in Italy can be a real pleasure, no matter what type of driver you are.

[Owain]

So.... after moving to a better job in a better city, getting divorced, and then buying a new house (which turned out to be even more expensive than I first thought), the summer is approaching.

Usually, this means one thing: Italian road trip!

However, such is the dire state of my finances, that I decided to abandon my plans to drive the length of the west coast of Italy (to balance out last year's east coast of Italy trip). I asked my parents if I could make use of their house in Brittany, and I will be going there. This is good news, but there is one problem - I like France, but it isn't Italy. So, I've resolved to drive to Italy anyway, even if it will be the most flying of visits. Yep .... I'm the kind of person who caused the Credit Crunch! Anyway, it will be literally a flying visit; when I drive in the land of speed, 'flying' is the best description.

Last year saw me drive the length of Italy - from Mont Blanc to the tip of the heel in Puglia. My 'frugal' plan for this year is to drive the width - from Trieste to Ventimiglia. It'll be the seventh and last trip for my ailing Rover 75 (although I am thinking of buying another one).

Here's the plan:

Jessica arrives (from Northern Ireland) in Leeds on 1 July. On 2 July, we drive to Luxembourg. On 3 July, we take the A8 across Germany and the A10 across Austria, to Trieste.

We spend three nights in Trieste. On 3 July we visit the city, and on 4 July we take a trip across the parts of Slovenia and Croatia that used to be Italian (Capo d'Istria).

Then, on 5 July, we go to Turin, where Jessica and I have still to visit the Museo del Risorgimento. From there, I have promised to drive her down to the Mediterranean, and along the Riviera to Monaco (She's a five-time All-Ireland National Swimming Champion, so she likes a good view of the sea... and views of the sea don't get any better than those from the ss1 Via Aurelia).

I've always wanted to drive around the Monaco Grand Prix circuit - or as much of it as is possible - in a Rover 75, so we'll see how that goes on 8 July.

Then we plan to head right across the South of France to Andorra, for a brief stay (9-10 July) in the micro-state. We like micro-states! This will also provide us with the opportunity to dip our toes into Spain, just to annoy exiled.

From there, we'll head to Brittany for a week that will be relaxing if my car keeps running. This will provide opportunities to visit Concarneau, St Malo, Locronan, and to drive the N12 in its entirety, before heading back to the UK on or around Sunday 16 July. Jess will go back to Ireland to prepare for her big move to England in the autumn, while I will have to go back to Leeds to write my book.

We might, or might not, manage a stay in Chartres. Either way, it means I intend to drive, or to complete driving, the French A16, A8, A9, and N12, the Belgian A4, the German A8, the Austrian A10, and the Italian A23, A4, A6, A21 and A10 in their entirety.

As ever, my trip will take place in a Rover 75, but there is one question: will it be blue or green?

[Fenlander]

Combining the green or blue question with the lap of the Monaco GP circuit a friend of mine has done it in both blue and green cars, maybe you should too!

[Owain]

Combining the green or blue question with the lap of the Monaco GP circuit a friend of mine has done it in both blue and green cars, maybe you should too!

I am probably the only person ever to have driven the length of Italy in a Rover 75, and I have ambitions of being the only person ever to have done it twice...... so I guess I could work on the Monaco thing.

[mapboy]

That certainly is one impressive plan, something I could only possibly dream of doing. The only place I have been to on that list is Concarneau, which is an extremely nice place with its ancient town on the island in the harbour. If you manage to head that direction, one place (depending on what you're in to) nearby that may be worth a 'flying' visit is Pont Aven, a quaint, picturesque village that stands on the banks of a small river; I think it has links with some well known artists. If I remember correctly it's about 25 mins east of Concarneau.

[Chris Bertram]

That certainly is one impressive plan, something I could only possibly dream of doing. The only place I have been to on that list is Concarneau, which is an extremely nice place with its ancient town on the island in the harbour. If you manage to head that direction, one place (depending on what you're in to) nearby that may be worth a 'flying' visit is Pont Aven, a quaint, picturesque village that stands on the banks of a small river; I think it has links with some well known artists. If I remember correctly it's about 25 mins east of Concarneau.

Second all of that, and would add the megaliths at Carnac too. For bucket and spade seaside fun there's Bénodet.