Italy: Day 9 Castles in the air

I forget, perhaps deliberately, how dependent I have become, on others, on electricity, on the internet and mobile connectivity. I don’t like to think about it, the knife edge that I ride, the fragility of my lifestyle and the illusion of stability that 3 days of food on a shelf gives. You don’t like to think about it either so here are some Canada Goslings that I caught grazing by the lake.

I was worried, in case it passed unnoticed, about my charging issues, at home left to my own devices, quite literally, I can burn hours watching YouTube secured by cable to the grid, or matrix, never remembering the key combination to get to ‘slide to power off’. This morning I blogged perched next to a power outlet, blagging the juice to sustain my tablet. Post posting it was on to navigation, 6 hours twisting westwards on back roads was what the ‘fun’ option recommended, I needed more fun.

My cunning plan was to charge on the way, the alternator continuously produces power and any excess is wasted as heat, “Waste not want not” my mother’s words, not her ghost, haunt me. I rigged up the sat-nav, the tablet and the phone to the battery via my, single point of failure, usb connection. What I didn’t do was close the pocket containing the phone and all the leads, or select the one lead that the iPhone deemed acceptable.

The roads were entertaining, perhaps too many small towns and villages at first, forcing us down, initially to 70 then 50 then 30 kph, however blessedly clear of traffic. Ruined castles unfeasibly set high above observed our passing as we traversed the forests. Stopping first for her fuel and then mine, coffee and a pastry, I discovered that not only was the phone not charging but the only working lightening lead had exited the bag to start a new life.

With less than 50% phone battery we were not half way to our Belgian destination. I tried to buy another at a Netto supermarket, nicht gut, then, in Paul Muger Platz a helpful man directed me to a ‘DM Drugerie Mart’ (a bit like Boots Chemist in England) where €10 secured me a powder blue piece of shit that may serve as a shoe lace, at a pinch as far as my iPhone is concerned.

40%, we crossed into Luxemburg at Kenz, a blocked road and failed handoff between mobile networks contrived to leave the sat-nav stuck ‘rerouting’, and me lost. I took a guess based on the sun then stopped and tried the tablet, it had 4G data so I shared a WiFi connection with the confused phone and, thankfully, service resumed. That gave me an idea, I’d randomly packed a lightning to USB-C lead of Apple manufacture, I wondered, then stopped again and tried, “fuck around and find out”, the fussy phone would indeed charge directly from the iPad, I cursed and thanked Apple for this somewhat esoteric feature. I can now use the tablet, not just for this nonsense, but as a power pack for the phone, we might still find our way home.

We found ourselves chasing 3 Belgian registered bikes with sidecars, one with a dog as a passenger, through the lanes of Luxenburg, strange to see square car tyres on motorbikes, they were not hanging about. Finally passing them with a friendly wave, all the bikers are friendly, here and in the States they share the same greeting, an outstretched left hand in the semblance of a peace sign, or scissors. Tempting as it is to go with rock or paper I never have, it feels good, almost like shaking hands with the oncoming brethren. In the UK our choice to drive on the left restricts us, by throttle location, to a, naturally reserved, nod.

They say that the majority of accidents occur in the last mile to home, where familiarity or fatigue get the better of us. Nearly so for us as we turned into and explored a chalet site next door to the intended campsite. The steep, under construction roads challenged our vertical orientation. The Guzzi has linked brakes with a foot pedal operating both a front and rear discs, this is great for late braking and on loose surfaces however, with feet out for stability descending steeply, I was left with just the handlebar operated front brake. Off road only the front brake is a precursor to a fall, “front brake, fall off” my friend Rich will remember as painfully as his cracked rib. I finally fell into Collins de Rabais Taverne Camping to a welcoming reception and a spacious grassy pitch. The poolside kiosk, a pepper steak and Three Blondes beer awaited.