Lago di Chuisi, Van fail 7 cont. Saturday 01st September.

We awake buoyed by the latest fix to Onzo. What can go wrong now?

We decide to embark on an arduous testing programme to check the new fix*. The route out of Chiusi means we have to climb the tortuous route we used to get here. No mercy will be shown to Onzo. If he passes this there is no road we need be afraid of.

We approach the bottom of the hill flat out, Onzo protesting at such treatment, but bollocks frankly this is serious. Half way up all is going well apart from one thing – why hasn’t the fan kicked in?!

Onzo’s temperature begins to rise. Noush is hanging on to armrests, headrests, edges of seat, basically anything to hand as Onzo is manfully thrown around some Serious road. Things are flinging themselves out of cupboards ‘leave em!’ is the cry. On we zoom.

Massive Onzo fail. No fans. Not one and certainly not two. It’s not even that hot outside, but Onzo’s temperature guage has reached critical, despite which we park up and rev the cr*p out of him just to watch the fan not kick in. This is not good news.

Back we go to Old Italian Nutter. We are summoned straight back into the garage, the bonnet is flung open and the swarm descend. Lots of puzzled faces and mutterings ensue. A perplexed look at the fuse (which has blown and is discarded on the floor with suitable venom) and is replaced and straight away the fan kicks back into life. Fan numero due (two) is to blame, overloading the system. Or something. However Numero uno is working fine and apparently will be sufficient. We thank the guys and go straight back to the test track. Zoom!

It works!! Numero Uno has kicked in and everything! This is good news. Having abused him half to death it’s time to STOP ONZO, there’s a bar! Bar L’espresso where the marvelous Stefano provides us with celebratory beer, but also wi-fi and the grand prix.

All is well, until tomorrow, when we discover that it’s probably packed up again, until then, happy days. 

* no speed limits were broken in this trial. 

Lago Di Chuisi -Thursday 30th August to Friday 31st August (and Van fail 7)

After a few days of R&R, glorious weather and lovely campsite woman letting us have a tab (eek!) we feel thoroughly restored. The excellence of the BBQ is only marred by the fact that we have utterly failed at fishing. Not even a bite. Nothing. Nada. Niente. Noush is beginning to question the veracity of Jon’s claims of being a master fisherman. However he has redeemed himself by doing a masterful diagnosis of Onzo’s heating problem. A quick phone call to Mother supplies us with the necessary lingo and then a trip to the bar for Noush to enquire about the whereabouts of a local garage. Lovely campsite woman is unfortunately absent and in her place there is old dude with his volume control issues. With hair blasted back behind her ears by the sheer auditory force of the vocal delivery of his incomprehensible directions, off we set. Remarkably we find the garage pretty much straight away, true to form though they can’t help us and more incomprehensible directions are imparted. Off we set again.

We find the boys at ElletroAuto without too much trouble and with much gesticulating and guessing at Italian we get the point across. They wheel us straight into the garage and three of them proceed to swarm all over Onzo doing all manner of things that make you wince to watch. It was like watching a Formula 1 pit crew – as all three blokes descended deep into the engine bay, no doubt muttering language to make Mother blush.  Meanwhile one of them has kidnapped Jon to take him to the bank…

…at breakneck speed. The old boy must have been in his mid-sixties but he was driving the small Fiat like it had been nicked. Either that or the cops were behind us. I didn’t dare look, or more to the point I couldn’t as the G forces literally pinned me into the seat. We passed through narrow pedestrian streets at close on 70 mph, several cars overtaken and a couple of pavements mounted. Meanwhile Old Italian nutter was laid back in his seat so far he was almost in the back, with one casual hand on the wheel like we were taking a Sunday afternoon drive. All the while he kept up a running commentary (I didn’t understand a word) which was shouted at me and anyone that got in the way. Such was his ferocity and volume several large globules of spit were liberally scattered over me and the windscreen. Rather quickly we screeched to a halt outside the bank (half on the pavement) and once done I was subjected to an equally brutal return journey. Good job I put my elasticated pants on.

Jon returns from the bank excursion, somewhat white faced. Both of us have been subjected to some serious diatribes delivered at unfeasible volume and with largely incomprehensible gesticulations. But, the gist is that all is well. There was a fuse issue and some split fuse wires. These have been replaced, Onzo’s fans seem to be working. Happy days. Relieved of a rather convenient €50 (ulterior motives for accompanying to the bank anyone?) we head back to Pesce D’oro. Happy to have it sorted, not too irked at the price and relieved to be back on familiar territory. Van success? If this works first time it will be a first in Onzo fixing history. 

Montalcino to Lago di Chiusi (via Everest) - Wednesday 29th August

After the rigours of sightseeing (don’t underestimate the physical demands) we attempt a brief wander around Montalcino. We are a bit cultured out by this point, so it’s rather a half-hearted excursion, not helped by the fact that Montalcino, while very beautiful, has the feeling of a museum, or a theatre set. There’s really not much going on. Still, the views are spectacular and the fort is quite something: forbidding indeed, the last refuge of the Sienese as after Siena had capitulated to the Florentines the fifteenth century, you can see why they chose it to hole up in. The town is also famous for its Brunello wine, which some reckon to be the finest in Italy. We buy a cheap version in the supermarket which turns out to be velvety gorgeousness (or was that the Blue Nun?)

Anyway, we decide that any more culture is going to make our brains fall out, so we decide to head towards a lake we’ve identified and go and collapse for a few days. We decide to avoid Montepulciano (apparently just a larger version of Montalcino – and higher up..eek!) and plot a route that should see us avoiding most mountains and is a mere hop at about 20km. Zoom! 

Sadly no Zoom. And Onzo is being an a***hole, refusing to get into gear, throwing tantrums and generally being awkward. Our 20km journey ends up being more like 50km. This is largely due to the disastrous sign posting and (by the unfortunate coincidence) of having 2 towns on the map that have 2 other towns nearby of identical name. Hardly cricket is it? Slowly we unravel the mystery of our route and all becomes clear. However, when one problem is solved another one rears its ugly head. This time in the form of an enormous ridge or mountain range that we must traverse in order to get to said destination. This route is now our only option, short of heading towards Rome which is a no no. The route involves 37km of ascent to a total height of 1200ft above sea level. It’s close on 35 degrees. This is worse than the Nantua Everest episode by miles (literally). Onzo is braced.

Once we realise the full extent of the ascent we have to undertake we realise that there’s a slim chance that we might not actually make it. This results in some furious thinking as to how we can make Onzo as light as possible and give ourselves the best chance. Pretty much the only thing we can do is to siphon off our water supplies and hope we don’t get stranded, without water, miles from anywhere. A rather daunting thought, but there’s just no other option. Jon bravely does the hose pipe sucky siphon thingy and the water tank, sure enough, begins to empty (how does that work in the laws of physics??? Weird). Operation jettison is a success! Considerably lighter we take a breath and begin the ascent of Mount Cetona (Radicofani to Sarteano). Onzo seems to have snapped out of his strop and is being a bit more cooperative, Jon is being a driving god again and getting Onzo up some impossible inclines and round some serious corners, all is going well. We climb and climb and climb. The views stretch away as far as you can see in every direction, you can’t even take a photograph of them because all you can see is sky, everything is far far beneath us. We even pass an observatory. We discover a hidden monastery, a lake that isn’t even on the map and wild scenery that looks untouched by human hand. We half expect oxygen masks to appear from the dash. Every time we start to descend and think we’ve won, there’s another corner and a whole new hill presents itself. Will we ever get there? Finally a hill top settlement presents itself, at the foot of which is a sprawling town and a lake enorme: civilisation! We’re saved! Cue collective sighs of relief all round.

Our considerable descent brings us to the town of Chiusi. Heart beats for us and for Ozno begin to return to normal as we spot the sign post for the lake. As we draw near down a small lane we spot our oasis, Camping Pesce D’oro. Once again we have got lucky. The site backs onto the lake, it’s completely quiet, nobody here, shady, beautiful and there’s a bar with what looks to be an extremely good restaurant with a very serious menu attached. Ours, including showers etc, hook up, all for about €16 a night. We ain’t moving. Fishing rod and beers come out, that’s us done for a few days.

Siena to Montalcino – Tuesday 28th August

True to form as we leave Siena we get immediately lost and find some road closures. Perhaps the City doesn’t want us to leave just yet. In the process of getting lost though we stumble upon the cheapest fuel yet on our travels in Italy, which is quite significant when you take into account the extortionate cost of fuel here. In some cases €0.50 more per litre than in France. Not good for the budget.

Montalcino is another Tuscan Hill town a short hop from Siena, where we plan to overnight. The book of occasional fiction assures us this is possible. The journey takes us through evermore rural Tuscan countryside; swathes of fields recently harvested give it a scorched look. In the early evening sunlight they could be mistaken for sand dunes – or is this the continuing after effects of last night’s excesses? Neither of us is sure. What we are sure about however is how high up Montalcino is as we draw close. Not ideal for Onzo in this heat. (Why does it seem to get so much hotter about 5-6pm every evening?). We begin the ascent which as per usual goes on and on. Around every hairpin there is another, followed by a long straight steep piece of road. And, as is also always the case we have for company behind us a line of irate Italian drivers. Onzo’s overheating issues rarely cause an enforced pullover, but in this case it’s that or blow up, so we give it 10 minutes in a layby and we are good to go. Light is at the end of the tunnel (or so we think) as we can see the summit (I kid you not). As we approach town following the camping car signs we notice that our final destination is up the most inappropriate track for campers you could ever imagine. Italians, (unlike the French) seem to insist on putting the camper parks either miles from town centres or in the most awful godforsaken parts of town. This one involves traversing a 1 in 3 single track hill for 600 metres, with speed bumps (why?) to eventually end up in the camper park. It strikes us as mad. Not only is the hill virtually impassable for campers (let alone Onzo) most of the old folks who make up the majority of campers would be unable or unwilling to scale the savage incline. After another rest in a layby we go for the ascent. Onzo, unhappy about this violation, unwillingly does the job. First gear all the way (that’s how steep it was), nearly 3 tonnes of camper creeping to the top. Celebratory beers and a bottle of coolant for Onzo as we crest the peak. Sighs of relief all round.

Tuesday 28th August – Siena cont.

The lofty, graceful heights of the First Gate seem far beyond our reach as we stumble about the van, horribly drowning in epic shab. Nonetheless there is the rest of Siena to be seen: Cathedral, Baptistry, Crypt, Museums, Churches. Pass me the nurofen? Noush seems irritatingly ok. Jon on the other hand is close to death. Obviously must have drunk more, yes, this can be the only reasonable answer!

We ascend the escalator travel thingies with no grace whatsoever and stumble through the First Gate, furnace enorme, Noush has to stop and indulge in retail therapy in the form of more shoes and a precautionary Cathedral shawl. This proves more exhausting that you can imagine and we stop at the first café we see for a hair of the dog and an excuse for a Panini (very cheap bar just down the steps to the Campo) Much restored we launch ourselves at Culture.

The day is scorching, we are dying of shab, all the fountains have disappeared and there is a prohibitive queue (in full sunny glare) for entry to just about anything. Taking matters into our own hands we execute the queue jump of the century and five minutes later are armed with entry to all things cultural and excellent.

First stop is the Cathedral. The Cathedral provides all the panacea that a person could ever need.  It should probably be the first and last stop for everybody ever. It is quite simply the most mind blowing execution of human endeavour and imagination. Glory, grace, grandeur, humility, excellence, dedication, gothic imagination and a freedom of something realised beyond the capability of the modern man. It renders modern art, the likes of Tracy Emin and Damien Hurst, pathetic, transient and insubstantial.

Cathedral ceiling and cathedral

Library and library ceiling

Tiled Mosaics on the floor (how do they cut the marble so fine?).

Museum stained glass window, nigh on 800 years old (that you're not allowed to take photos of. Didn't see the sign until after. Honest). 

We are overwhelmed; Noush is almost tearful with the beauty of it. It is beyond compare. The streets of Siena and the treasures strewn so casually throughout are almost too much. Paying €8 for two cokes upon exiting the museum was definitely too much, but for such a place you can forgive such a price.

We have zoomed through the streets, the sights, the churches, the piazzas and we are utterly in love. There is no finer place than Siena. We will be back.

Siena! Monday 27th August

So, we’ve parked up in friendly Aire type place and map in hand we attempt to find the town. This involves heading towards the train station and then taking the stairs, escalators and travelators to infinity and beyond; they go up and up and on and on. We arrive gasping at the top, dying for fresh air, but it’s worth it, we are deposited almost in front of the ‘First Gate’. The view and the feel of the place do much to restore the three Cs (cool, calm and collected) and a little further on the Gate of Cammolia welcomes you to Sienna with the words: “More than its doors, Siena opens its heart to you”. This proves to be the case beyond doubt. We are smitten totally. Siena may well be the finest place on earth.  The personality of the place instantly resonates in your soul, how could Florence ever have been a rival? Siena wins hands down. We stroll down the Via Cammolia towards the Campo: scene of the Palio and drenched in history. It’s buzzing but not too busy, we stop for a drink overlooking the shell shaped Piazza and find it ever more enchanting. The buildings are austere and immutable, beautiful and strict, but there’s an undercurrent of humanity and passion that saturates the place with all the contradictions of life and God, endeavour and glory, humility and grace. It’s a magical place. We treat ourselves to dinner in the Trattoria Papei around the corner, the workmen are labouring furiously next door to build everything necessary to house the celebratory dinner from the Palio that will take place in a month. This is at 8pm at night, surely they can knock off by now?

Their industry becomes apparent when we nosey through a guide book and see the extent of the celebrations they are catering for. Siena does it large, no mistake!

Wonderful dinner, successfully stole an ashtray and half a bottle of wine, romance and chicanery living happily side by side, we feel very Sienese.

Wandering home we fall upon a Mangiandanda; we pause for a while to take in the atmosphere, rows of tables laden with food, dancing, revelry, fun.

We try to leave but then two minutes around the corner, near the innocent First Gate (innocent? Not so much!) we are embroiled in a live band extravaganza, more dancing and revelry and Staropramen on tap. 

This does not bode well. We drink, we sing, we struggle in flip flops, we admire Mr “I can play any instrument’ man and we finally leave, stumbling towards those stairs, escalators and travelators that take us back to our rightful position down below. 

Greve in Chianti to Siena, Via Radda and Pianella - Monday 27th August

We leave Greve after a quick internet session in the local café. Some random Italian lady wishes us bon voyage. As nice as this is it rings alarm bells in case we had seen her during last night’s visit to the Bar. Neither of us can remember. Case unsolved.

We are heading for Pianella, a small town some 9km’s outside Siena which we hope will provide us with a safe place to park up for the night. The camping car book leads us to believe one actually exists there – we shall see. On the way we decide to stop off at Radda in Chianti. This is one of the final towns on the Chianti trail and allegedly beautiful.

On arrival Radda is everything we expected. Imagine the villages you see in the glossies and TV programmes about Tuscany and you have Radda. Parking, again, presents the main issue, as appears to be the theme with Italy but takes on an added twist when we experience Italian road rage. Quite what the chap was trying to achieve we don’t know, but he was definitely experiencing a monumental sense of humour failure. The peculiar thing was that he was driving (and badly) a car about the size of a matchbox, I mean would you really take on Onzo and expect to win? What on earth was he thinking? Wife-y got involved too, which was quite amusing: two extremely posh Italians in a teeny tiny posh car that they couldn’t drive, turning the air blue (the lip reading was quite entertaining) and failing totally at getting anywhere. He definitely needs to hand in his man card.

Radda should have been charming. It was market day, the views of Tuscany go on forever, spread at your feet, pretty winding streets and the like. Somehow it seemed to miss the mark though. Much like the scenery here, while very beautiful it doesn’t seem to have a heart or a personality. It’s all just a bit too manicured and, dare I say, soulless? Snooty types with their ‘I am considerably richer than yaow’ attitude, a Knight Frank office seals the deal and we bail. It seems that as the landscape changes and becomes more tame and organised so the people become more closed off, it’s all a bit Stepford Wives. Where has all the personality gone? We do find a bit of local colour in the form of maniac market day driver who, although Italian, is sticking very firmly to the wrong side of the road, clocking up a zoomy 15mph. Another café corretto anyone? After a hair raising near collision he seems to pull himself together and pegs it for home; a bollocking from the wife clearly worth the relief of getting out of the car. Italian drivers are all officially mad.

Pianella is a funny old town. It’s only 8km outside Siena, but it’s a nothing of a place. A few very un-Tuscan apartment blocks, a couple of shops on either side of the main road, a sort of shop/bar and that’s pretty much it. We had expected a pretty little place, commuter village style, teeming with FCVTs all parked up for free and zooming to Siena on the bus. There’s not one. There’s an Aire with water and emptying capabilities, but it’s empty and looks like it has rarely been used. This is mystifying. We decide to attempt parking in Siena and use Pianella as back up plan. This proves to be a good decision in light of the events that unfold this evening, but more of that later.

We spot a camping sign as we enter Siena and go and investigate. Camping Collaverde, sounds nice. We arrive and park up to enquire about price, the site has tons of available pitches, the sign says that we are now officially in low season, we are hopeful of getting a bit of a bargain. Oh how wrong can you be?! Some jumped up twerp with an over inflated sense of self importance (you’re a receptionist at a campsite, get a grip) gives us the once over with a slow, disdainful ‘head to bare feet’ look and informs us that we are expected to pay €35 per night. We laugh in his face and exit sharpish. Do these people have no sense?  The site was mostly empty, pricing themselves out of the game and employing total idiots. Lessons in how not to make money. Anyway, we end up in the Aire near the train station, €20 for 24 hours, free water, free emptying, lovely Aire reception man (who barely flinches when I pay him with piles of shrapnel and who is drinking a beer!)) happily gives us a map for free and directions to Siena centre (10 minutes walk thank you very much). One is not surprised that Collaverde is largely empty, they can stick it up their poo pipe frankly.