Lago di Gardo

Out of Verona and a dreary drive through ‘smog’, industry and masses of kiwi fruit, peach, necatarine and grape crops popped us through to Lake Garde. 

Initial impressions weren’t great with the ugliest Gold Coast like human stamp, gazillions of people and a strange pervasive smog obscuring all detail, colour & shape.  It feels like an irritating semitransparent curtain that one desperately wants to push aside to see clearly.

We pulled into a few jammed campsites and fearing we’d left our dash a bit late in the day, pressed on only to find a piece of organised lakeside German-esque heaven in Bellavista Campground in the town of Torbole.  Quicker than a flash, we locked up and walked the beautiful lake in search of a Smooth-Teeth celebratory pizza. 

Torbole sunset

As evening settled, the sky cleared a bit revealing wonderful surrounding mountain layers with their tiny lit up statues of Mary, churches and small hilltop villages each with huge luminous crosses.  The kids gobbled down a typical thin, simple Italian pizza whilst we all oggled the athletic bods & top of the range gear of great numbers of beautiful, mostly German mountain-bikers & windsurfers.  Later, we learned of a mountain biking event this weekend (there’s ALWAYS something on) and that this spot is windsurfing mecca, where the World Windsurfing championships are held.  Tarifa in Spain was supposed to be that!

8/9 Day 2 Lago Di Gardo 

Torbole dawn

A very welcomed quiet night.  So much of Italy contrasts to what we’ve experienced of the Austrian & German precision, practicality, efficiency, predictability and reliability.  So much contrast between close living neighbours on such a little land mass.  But whilst my arms slowly folded initially with the ugly, expensive, industrial, not working parts, today they were flung open with the wonderful, gorgeous everything else.  Are we under Italy’s spell?

Keen to try the Italian roads, we took off on our 2 wheelers for our exercise.  Initially, we were on a comfortable marked riverside track alongside carpets of grapes, stone and kiwi fruit but soon came to a gorgeous stone village heralded by the smell of good coffee. In pursuit of more of a climb, we meandered through amazing hillsides of grapes and narrow roads that were hairy to share with the tractors.  Turning back, we aimed for a steep last ascent to spectacular castel ruins.  We rode beneath tiny stone arches to the old town of Arco and up a zigzag cobbled track following stations of the cross amongst olive trees. Never far are the soaring peaks, orange in the soft rising morning sun.

Station of the Cross

Back home, Kel’s little doey face peered out her bedroom window & animated instantly with the suggestion of an undies swim in the lake before brekkie & planned maths tests.

We splashed about admiring the criss-crossing windsurfers, devoured our cereal and smashed the tests.

She & Wil had first break swimming in the lake together (a step up from SPLC & HFS playgrounds hey!) whilst the olds shared a coffee back home.  Dried off after a read together in the sun, they hit their writing and assignments.  Wil couldn’t stop talking about his discoveries of Marco Polo’s travels.  In the end, he concluded that MP was possibly a fraud!

End of school saw another swim in the lake before a most amazing cook up.  Wil & I laboured over a highly flavoured spaghetti bolognese.  We talked of cooking together in the future and maybe attending some classes together.  He told me I was a good cook !?!

Utterly satisfied, we all jumped on the bikes to explore heading off lakeside initially which was thoroughly unpleasant with a googleplex of others on the same path - prams, walking sticks, unpredictably dashing babes & dogs…..how do the Europeans cope with the constant congestion?  (We all bought loud bells in a shop down the road alter on).  So instead we headed back into the mountains to beautiful Arco.

Passing innumerable fields so full of plump gorgeous fruit, we concluded if Italy broke off and disappeared far into the sea, it would feed itself until the end of time.  Pulling into Arco’s charming square coincided with a festival with traditional drumming and fancy dressed ladies & gents.  We licked on a gelati, had a sweet cappuccino, people watched and got Wil’s mop made back into hair.

On the way home we rode through wonderful scented pockets of citrus and then rich red wine, then another paddock that smelled of days old unlaundered sweaty socks.  Second by second we realize our blissful happiness & terrific good fortune. 

Was no easy thing saving & planning but it’s been rewarded a thousand times over.

And then another swim in the lake ! A salad roll, read….  

9/9 on to another lake

We left the predictability of our easy campsite after a wonderful start to the day.  We olds ran and then were joined by Kel with a jump in the lake.  

Freshened, we schooled and took off with no particular destination.  The first part of the drive back down Lago di Gardo was gorgeous following a high cliff panoramic road but for the rest of the day if not in ugly-ville, we were in serious traffic jams.  Jeff tackled tunnels that were so impractically egg shaped, narrow at the top making 2 lanes a notion because anything higher than a car has to drive over the middle for fear of taking out the top of their vehicle.  Great long etched furrows & scrapes along the tunnel high walls offer evidence of an impossible squeeze.  Lake Iseo was too congested to stop for more than a picnic lunch (overlooking Snuggy Island) and it’s eastern side consisted largely of long tunnels with no ventilation fans.  Hairy driving into the smog filled entrance following cyclists, massive freight trucks and vespers. So, plan B was to pull up at Bergamo with it’s walled upper city.  Well milllions had the same idea and the overnight rest place listed in our guide book was chained off (Spain….?)  Plan C saw Jeff with tired eyes & tense hands from white knuckle driving, reach for a beer at a rest stop just short of Lecco and whilst VERY noisy (road,other campers,dogs…), over the road was a terrific skate path.  Woo hoo, wine in one hand, kids in the other, we crossed the road & sat by the lake watching big stink boats, in line skaters in tight WHITE lycra, seaplanes and the skating Connberry kids of course.

Leftovers for dinner & a few games of cards before lying down. Hope the racket dies down.