Turning Point

The Maremma was our planned turning point and we've reached it. We drove south heading around the Castiglione della Pescaia bypass. It winds through the hills above the town. A beautiful, cloudless day, we got a momentary glimpse of the entire Tuscan Archipelago, the salt marshes, low green hills and dark umbrella pine forests of the Maremma in the foreground, the sea beyond, a sheet of pale blue flecked with silver, grey mountainous islands mist smudged in the distance. All the more gorgeous and memorable because the vision was fleeting, filling the windscreen for a few seconds, then gone.

Our destination was considerably less romantic, the Coop supermarket on the outskirts of the town. However, it was one of those blue Med days where the scintillating light tempts you to become entranced by the mundane. In this case the dusky pink concrete facade of the primary school opposite the store.

You have to admire a culture sophisticated enough to imbue their concrete municipal buildings in shades more usually associated with posh lingerie.

We exited the supermarket just as school finished for lunch, there was a momentary snarl-up as parents and grandparents arrived in venerable puntos and pandas to collect the bambini. We've observed this daily event before. To ensure the safety of the next generation of citizens, a few minutes before noon the Policia Municipale arrive, in this case one officer covered the rear door of the school, another at the front, bringing traffic to a halt as the children poured out of school. Each child was greeted by a doting relative with an out-burst of affection as if they had been parted for months. A masked ritual however, as yesterday the Italian PM announced that face coverings were to be worn at all times outdoors and indoors, apart from in domestic situations. Impressive how the decree was followed immediately by the citizenry big and small; disappointing the way most tourists from more northern climes ignored it.

We had pinpointed a campsite about six kilometres south of the town that mentioned it was next to a cycle track through the pines. We have not made much use of the bikes so far. Opportunities for cycling on Elba were limited unless you were willing to dice with death on the narrow, bendy roads along the clifftops. Our style these days is sedate rather than adventurous, and a slow pedal down a shady track through the littoral pine forest was an appealing prospect. When we arrived at Camping le Marze its big steel gates were padlocked. It happens. As autumn progresses opening times advertised on Campercontact, or on the web become increasingly out of step with reality. Our trip down Italy's Adriatic coast in October 2015 was bedeviled by this problem. We vowed to always phone ahead, then, like all resolutions best intentions get forgotten and you end up in front of locked gates scratching your head. 

Luckily we had passed another place, Camping Etruria, a few minutes earlier, so back we went. It was open, had space, problem solved. It's a smaller, family run place, which is nice. It has a lovely atmosphere, the pine trees are beautiful and the beach is not lined with regimented sun loungers. In fact it's quite out-doorsy, a magnetic for svelte kite surfing aficionados and twentysomethings with toddlers and babies in tow. 

There are downsides, the toilet block is pure French municipal circa 1980. 

Also, the access road to the pitch we are on is so narrow I had to use the one opposite to manouevre into ours. It is now occupied by a VW camper plus cute couple und Kleinkind. Not sure how we are going to extracate ourselves, but we'll face that challenge when we come to leave. Maybe our neighbours will be recalled to Dusseldorf on urgent business before then.

As well as stocking up on essentials at the Coop, the mall in the same building had a peschiera. Gill has been honing her version of gremolata recently. It required a tuna steak to accompany it, now was the moment.

The result was delicious, and resulted in a table of zero kms food, if you ignore the bananas. 

The next few days are forecast to be sunny and warm. We spent yesterday afternoon relaxing on the beach, entertainment provided by kite surfing acrobatics. 

It is a nice spot. We've just taken a late morning  stroll along the beach. Looking south you get a great view towards the Orbetello peninsula, and what I a presume is the island of Giglio offshore.

  

Northwards, Castiglione della Pescaia on its bluff, looked very handsome with big umbrella pines shading its ancient ramparts. After lunch we plan a second foray to the gelateria, then when we get back a dip is a definite possibility, time is ticking by, with our sensible hats on we know we should begin to head home, and goodness knows when we will be able to return.

Herein lies the difficulty, our dilemma -

Going home involves driving from somewhere with a quarter of the daily cases of the UK, back home to a country which looks increasingly doomed to at least a partial lockdown over the coming months. We have no pressing need to be back in the UK until November 14th - that's when we reach the 60 day non-occupancy limit that is a condition of our house insurance. 

Our plan is to head from here to Lake Trasimeno on the Tuscany/Umbria border, then north to Lake Garda. However, we could just as easily turn east at Perugia and head to Ancona on the Adriatic coast. If we caught next Thursday's ferry from Ancona we could be in the Peloponnese in a week's time. Sail to Patras, return from Igoumetsima, wander for three weeks between the two, visit Delphi, explore Greece's green Ionian coast, take a day trip to Corfu town, all new territory, it's so tempting. Especially so as aside from Covid we are facing additional restrictions on our wandering life from next January. Post Brexit travel in Europe becomes limited to 90 days in any 180, and our current travel insurance will only cover us for trips of 31 days or less once we both reach our 66th birthdays, in other words next renewal date in September 2021. So right now we have  more freedom to travel than any time in the future.

It seems to make so much sense, but both of us are nervous about it. The months of lockdown and a barrage of international news both about the pandemic and the political pantomime at home and in America is confidence sapping. Part of me wants to 'shake a fist at lightening' as Joni Mitchell put it, often though I feel more like crawling under a quilt and moaning quietly.

So, we are torn. For the past few days I've had a bit of a bug, sore throat, itchy ears, classic shaking off a cold chills. I presume I have not succumbed to the virus - none of classic symptoms we are told to look out for. The point is, we have been careful about social distancing, worn masks in crowded places but I still picked up a bug, if not THE bug. It's pure luck that I didn't. It strikes if me if I did have Covid symptoms what would be the consequences? Would we be able to self isolate in the van? What about driving, Gill's eyesight problems over recent years means she's ok driving the car locally, but not the motorhome. Doing what we are doing is not risk free, and as Europe faces a second wave of infections those risks increase.

What to do? Go to Lake Trasimeno on Sunday, then decide - what better strategy can there be to deal with uncertainty than procrastination?

Meanwhile, we wandered down to the beach at sunset, took a photo after photo and mused that when the future seems uncertain you have to seize  the here and now.