Towards to Alps

Our ferry is looming in ten days time. Now the dreaded moment - the long drive north. Our plan - to stop at Lago d'Iseo, one of the smaller Italian lakes, then through Switzerland, up the east of France, then call in to visit Jackie, Gill's sister who lives in Nord Department a few kilometres from the Belgian border. Afterwards - home. 

Having experimented with using trunk roads in Italy on previous trips we have decided to use the autostrada in future. Compared to France the tolls are inexpensive and they have the advantage of being better surfaced than Italy's potholed 'A' roads, and most of the time drivers do go in the direction they are supposed to, not always the case on other roads.

Note to selves - Sunday is a good day to use the autostrada in Italy - almost empty.

We made good progress. The rolling countryside of Emilia Romana is fertile and productive, a mixture of fruit farms, vineyards, bright green pasture and yellow fields of cereal crops. No wonder its cities are famous for their cooking. 

We crossed the Po, then approached Mantua, an unusual city which resembles Middlesborough on its outskirts, but has a glorious ancient centre. No time to linger today however. We sped by Verona following the valley of the Mincio for a while, then skirted the southern shore of Lake Garda. Once again we were on familiar territory. We had three or four great Easter family holidays at Peschiera di Garda; it is impossible to resist the temptation reminisce.

Peschiera...'Do you remember when....'

Travelling by motorway it is not only famous places that become landmarks, mundane things stick in the mind as well. Peschiera's Franke kitchen sink factory was duly noted, as was the impressive Autogrill service area that straddles the autostrada near Brescia. It must have looked ultra modern in the 70s with big porthole windows overlooking the passing traffic. Think Leicester East services re- imagined by Terry Anderson. The other thing that strikes you is the number of factories lining the motorway. It was the same a quarter of a century ago when we first visited. Back then quite a few looked somewhat dilapidated with crumbling brick facades and gaunt concrete frames. Not so now, many of them look brand new and are stylishly designed. Italy's state finances may be a complete mess, but you have to admire its industrial policy. Do we even have one? 

By now we should have had a clear view of the Alps, but they were only faintly visible through the mist. In fact as we drove towards them they seemed to become ever less visible. Then they completely disappeared. I missed the turn off to Iseo and immediately the road disappeared into a series of long tunnels. 

Every so often we would glimpse the lake, now far below is. 'When do you think we might be able to turn around?' Gill wondered. 

'Austria?' I suggested glumly.

In fact after about 15km we found a junction which allowed us to turn around. Still, that's 30kms of needless driving. Camping Quai was right by the lakeside, as the name suggested. First impressions were somewhat negative. The pitches were small and a little muddy, the trees made it gloomy and it was busier than we had anticipated. Furthermore the railway ran right past the perimeter fence. There were positives, it was a short cycle ride into Iseo itself and all the trees meant the entire site teemed with blackbirds. The birdsong was lovely.

We unpacked the bikes and headed into town. It was Sunday, clearly the place was very popular with day-trippers from Brescia and Bergamo. The waterfront cafés were crowded and a late afternoon passiagata was in full swing with people in their 'Sunday best' parading about. It was nice to watch, indeed it was the only thing to watch as the afternoon mist was now gathering into threatening looking clouds; the lake looked dark and the mountains were almost invisible.

It rained heavily overnight. For a short spell in the morning it cleared and the sun appeared. There was a brief but magnificent view of the lake and mountains from the camp terrace. With its woodland settings and delightful birdlife, Camping Quai was certainly more appealing than it first appeared. We had made plans to catch the boat to Monte Isole a village on a large mountainous island in the middle of the lake. It never happened. The cloud base dropped and it rained intermittently for the rest of the day. Between the showers we managed a shopping trip, however my bike does not like the wet and the pedelec kept cutting out.

We consulted a range of on-line weather forecasts keen to believe the most optimistic. None of them were, the general forecast - thunder in the mountains. I think we are in for a wet journey over the Alps.