During breakfast I could hear a massive amount of serious hammering coming from the roof. It appears that there is a hole in the felt and that water has been trickling in over the years and is starting to rot the roof timbers.

I have a pay as you go phone here in Italy. The coverage is very good and the cost is very good as well. Included in the deal is 50 hours of 3G internet per calendar month. Each month a sum is taken from my account to cover this internet access. As we are to be leaving Italy for a few months this plan is no longer of much use to me. For some reason the WIND.IT website doesn’t like any of my credit cards so I need to do all transactions in the phone shop. I went to said phone shop last week and, although the shop was open, the woman who does the work was not there and no one else felt confident about changing my payment plan. Like the idiot I am I completely forgot that today is Monday and strolled up the road to try again. Today, being Monday, the shop was closed. Perhaps I will have more success tomorrow.

After a really nice stroll in the sunny weather I spotted the wood man who failed to deliver the logs. He looked suitably abashed but his overly dramatic gestures of amazement at his poor memory did not mollify me or lessen my irritation.

Some time past I went to visit some friends and, in passing, went to order some firewood. After a lengthy chat with the man of wood, and a good look around his yard and pallets of wood plus a chat about price, we settled on a delivery date of last Sunday. In order to receive the load of logs we stayed in and mooched about, put the car out and waited. No log show!! I wondered if the logs might come today, today being a Sunday after all. Again, no logs. Ah well!! My mistake I gave him my number, I should have asked for his.

Instead of brooding on the log deficiency I went for a walk over the old Sentiero dei morti. Today was a solitary walk as Janet was feeling seedy and wanted to stay near to the safety of the house and its facilities.

[map style=”width:450px; height:500px” gpx=”/wp-content/uploads/gpx/2013-03-10_Via Dei Morti.gpx”]

This part of Italy is real border country. We are on the old border with Austro-Hungary. A short journey to Lake Garda brings us to the Veneto too.

Echoes of the past are everywhere here.

Approaching the footpath one passes the old dogana, customs post, now a rather grand building with nice apartments. Where the battle of Ponte Caffaro was fought by the Garibaldini.

Flowers on the banks of the path give a real feeling of Spring.

To be honest I’m not too sure about the next two plants.

Nor this one, I must get a proper flora and study it.

The blighters are everywhere so I suppose that they are very common.

Having walked on this path quite a few times over the years it was a surprise to see the evidence of path widening.

This will obviously encourage more people to use the path,although the rumour is that it might be part of a cycle path. Some of my best chums are recreational cyclists and, although I am certain that none of them would silently come from nowhere at great speed to interrupt my tranquility as I contemplate the wonders of nature, I still feel somewhat apprehensive.

Blimey! It goes on for ever. They are serious about this, I think.

The path passes above the cemetery. As I passed I could see the grave of a friend and noticed that his flowers had blown over in the recent heavy rains. It was a pleasure to pop in and set them straight once again.

Passing the lakeend the kiosks selling wine were open today, not too many customers. It was a delight to have a chat to friends as they too enjoyed a Sunday afternoon stroll.

I have loads of lake photos but I don’t care, here’s another.

When out on a Sunday afternoon you can’t beat a good old gossip. The group in the distance are having a good look at the new bridge which will replace the rickety old one which was removed for the sake of safety, although I have seen the postman riding over it on his moped. The old bridge was not that old but it was made of wood which rotted very quickly. The new one is made of steel but not yet open.

Strolling up the river one passes the factories, not very beautiful but vitally important for the local economy. This is also where the wooden trailers rest after carnival.

An enjoyable Spring walk certainly generates a thirst. Perhaps a glass of pinot grigio before supper??

During Christmas week, as we were chatting about this and that with friends, the conversation turned towards Christmas traditions. Over the Christmas period there are Nativity scenes everywhere, some in private gardens and other, grander, scenes in churches and public places.  I needed some more electricity sockets for the house and went to the local builders’ supermarket to get them and noticed that there were kits for making these Nativity scenes on sale in the entrance area of the shop.

But, what about the Epiphany stars and singers? I don’t need to remind people that Epiphany is on January 6th and is when the church tells us that Jesus was shown to the Gentiles represented by the magi who followed a star. Among British Epiphany carols I suppose are the famous “We Three Kings” and “As With Gladness, Men of Old”

With no idea of what to expect we strolled round to our kindly neighbours and climbed into the car and set off for Crone, about 5 miles away from Ponte Caffaro at the other end of Lago d’Idro. In the wintery evening gloom we would never have found the groups of singers we were looking forward to hearing without the help of our two friends, Raffaella and Laura. Even with their help we went hither and thither until a group of traditionally dressed people were spotted carrying an enormous star. The group of singers wound its way up slippery, icy paths to various houses, on arrival at a house the singers made themselves known and started to sing.  The following sound clip is of the Crone group, recorded on a digital camera so the sound is not very good but it does give some idea of the song, but not the atmosphere.

stellacrone link

Walking down the steep icy paths back to the car needed some care but the evening was gloriously clear. We could see the lake below us and the reflections of the lights of houses on the lakeside.

Leaving Crone we crossed the bridge into Lemprato and could see the singers gathered by the road side outside a hairdresser’s shop. The road through Lemprato is the main artery between Brescia and Trentino and is narrow and very busy. As the singers moved onwards to the next spot they gave me a song sheet of their songs. The noise of passing traffic is a bit distracting but the clip gives an idea of what was happening.

stellalemprato link

Next stop was a drive upwards, out of Lemprato via Crone to Treviso Bresciano, a smallish hill town on the way to Lake Garda via the mountains. we could see a light in the distance as we parked in an impossiblt small parking space. As the light drew closer it became a small tractor and trailer with a Nativity scene and an enormous rotating star operated by a small boy pulling a string. The singers from Treviso Bresciano are all men, unlike the other groups. In their black traditional cloaks they appeared to be quite out of another time.

stellatreviso link

By now the evening was starting to feel cold and we were starting to feel cold. time for supper we thought so off home. I mentioned earlier that the road through Lemprato is a main artery for this area. Unfortunately for us, and more so for two other motorists who collided just outside one of the tunnels, the road home was blocked for an hour or so.
An enchanting evening nonetheless.

As a result of a special offer at the local Coop we have some super ciaspole, snowshoes. After a highly calorific meal of puff pastry filled with ham, cheese, spinach and other delicious stuff we waddled to the start of the snowy mountains clutching our ciaspole and poles. Putting the snowshoes on took more effort than we had expected. Janet had particular difficulty in getting the things to tighten up enough to stop them falling off. In fact, the only solution was to sit down in the snow and do the job properly.
we set off ploughing through deep soft snow as, lower down, there are signs saying, keep off the piste if you have snowshoes.

What a relief it was to see a woman striding out in the the middle of the piste. We followed her example and found things much easier than struggling through drifts and trees. Obviously this strategy means that one must be aware of the distinctive swishing sound of a person on skis or snowboard hurtling downwards at the unprotected back of the slow moving snow shoe person.

The scenery was so different, covered in snow, that it took us quite a few moment to work out that we had been walking on the ‘main’ mountain road to Bergamo.

[breadcrumbs track=”133180″]

The 11th and 12th of December bring a delightful treat to the breakfast table, ‘colombine’. Colombine are buns similar in taste to a hot cross bun, having a sort of tear drop shape and covered with sugar drops.

Fortified by a colonbina each we went out for a stroll. Since the weather has turned cooler we have been able to see a range of white hills from our early morning stroll. To be honest it isn’t really an ‘early’ stroll, more of a mid morning stroll really.

Seeing the hills in the distance has caused us to guess where these hills might be. It isn’t easy to estimate distance here as the hills could be low and near or high and far. As we strolled past the very nice Massey Ferguson 35 we decided to have a crack at gathering empirical evidence.

We got into the car and headed up the valley, and found the first blighter opposite Lardaro. The range of hills in the distance was still in the distance so obviously high and far. Instead of carrying on, and missing lunch, we stopped at Bondo and looked at the hills and started a new raft of speculation. There is a WW1 cemetary at Bondo, with a large monument, giving a good vantage point to view the surrounding landscape.

Back at Ponte Caffaro we wandered about the flat doing stuff and waiting for the arrival of Santa Lucia. Santa Lucia doesn’t come to Gravels Bank so this was to be a new experience for us. We set out from home at 5:50 pm and made our way to the five a side football field at the back of the cinema, where people of all ages were starting to gather. The musicians were tuning up, the fire was lit and we waited.

Santa Lucia’s donkey was already present as was her cart, the expectation grew. The children were ringing cowbells to hasten her arrival. Santa Lucia’s arrival, when it camehigh up on the hill, was very dramatic.

All the children gathered around Santa Lucia’s cart and received their presents, as the rest of us warmed ourselves by the fire. We all drifted towards the tent for some brule and a chat and home.

Santa Lucia has obviously turned up and one lucky person’s house.

As we went out for an evening stroll last night we spotted an innocuous envelope hiding in our letterbox. On getting back to the house we put it on the little glass table by the door and forgot about it.
After breakfast, as I was waiting for the plumber who didn’t turn up, I thought I should open the letter and have a look at its contents. I learned, from this letter, that the local tax has changed this year and that the amount we pay has increased. The old system was slightly tricky but the government has managed to surpass its bureaucratic tendencies with the new ‘simpler’ IMU.

After lunch the weather looked settled and we fancied a trip up to Maniva to see if could get to the top this time.

For some time, years if I am honest, we have suffered an intermittent leak from our gas central heating boiler here in Italy. We would put something down on the top of the washing machine and find that it was soaking wet. On the very few occasions when a competent plumber has been in the house the pesky thing has been completely dry. Finally we must face up to the inescapable fact that the leak is no longer intermittent, it is permanent. A plastic bowl sits underneath the boiler and catches about a litre of water during a period of 24 hrs. The hot water and heating work perfectly during the day and, as we have heating and hot water, you might take the view that we could ignore the leak.

Now to the point of this post, how does one describe, to an Italian plumber, the events of the past years and the current situation?

Central heating boiler – caldaia
Expansion vessel – Vaso d’espansione
Repressurise – caricamento
Water leak – perdita d’acqua
Loss of water pressure – perdita di pressione dell’acqua

I have left a message on the plumber’s answering machine so I shall find out if this vocabulary has worked.

Janet here.  I am writing this after a lovely supper and a game of Bananagrams listening to the Trout Quintet on Spotify.  At the weekend it rained.  And rained.  Torrentially.  After remembering the Armistice at eleven o’clock at home, wearing our poppies, along with the Remembrance Service at the Cenotaph, we lurked about in the house until the rain finally eased off at about three in the afternoon, and set off for our usual walk along the river to the lake to see how the river was.

And my word, it was worth going to see it.  We have never seen the river so high.  It was tearing through its course down to the lake.  All the boulders had disappeared beneath the turbulent waters, and the speed of the current was …… fast. Very fast.  Very fast indeed.

We walked down one side of the river to its confluence with the River Chiese to the lake where we could see the current with the brown waters of the two rivers rushing right across the head of the lake to the other side.  We gazed in awe and wonder for a while, and, despite the rain which had started falling again, strolled back along the other side of the river with our trusty umbrellas to shield us a little.  We crossed the metal road bridge to complete our stroll, and returned home where we lurked about for the rest of the day.

The photographs below follow that stroll.

There are also one or two short videos which we will upload tomorrow.

The weather today was supposed to be horrible, windy and rainy. When I opened the shutters and had a squint outside all seemed fairly quiet. After a breakfast of muesli and All Bran we felt strong enough to go out for a stroll by the river. The sun came out and defied the meteorologists making the stroll much nicer than we had anticipated that would be. The river level looks lower today, probably because the recent rain has fallen as snow on the upper valleys.

I don’t know if you are familiar with Scottish homemade candy but, if you are not, it is the sort of stuff that you eat until long past the time you should have stopped, and then feel a bit queezy. As it is Halloween Janet made some of this candy today in case we had some visitors from the Ponte Caffaro frightening fraternity. We obviously had to do some quality control and did so with considerable, and intemperate, zeal.

We heard the fearsome sound of the doorbell at about 8:00pm and let in 10 foul fiends who trussed me up in lavatory paper after singing a song in English. I was released from my lavatory paper chain when candy was offered around and the fiends departed. I think that I shall need a glass or two of home brew to settle me down after such an event.

Autumn is very pretty at the moment.

We have had quite a few days of heavy rain lately. Last night we went for a pizza with some friends and could see that the rain had fallen as snow on the mountains surrounding Ponte Caffaro. The near full moon and clear skies shining on the snow suggested that we were in top of a massive cake which had been iced by a heavy handed baker.

After mopping the floors and other tedious stuff we quite liked the idea of looking at the snow in a more intimate setting. To satisfy this need we set off for Passo Maniva. Having crossed the pass in full sun last August, seeing it in snow today seemed like a wizard wheeze.

The road from Ponte Caffaro to Bagolino was clear of snow so we felt that we might pull it off. The sign to Passo Croci Domini suggested that that pass was closed but no mention of Passo Maniva. As we climbed upwards we were delighted to see the snow on the trees and on the mountain tops. Yes, there was a little snow on the road but nothing to bother intrepid souls like us.

The road to Passo Maniva is quite narrow and has hairpin bends and some hairy drops. The snow plough had been quite effective up to a point but, rather foolishly, we didn’t stop where the snow plough had stopped. In fact we arrived at the conclusion that turning back was not an option any more, things were not looking too good really. Just below the pass we did find a place where we could turn around, admittedly by turning the steering wheel to full lock and flooring the throttle to rotate. Even so the snow did look fabulous.

When collecting the logs from the cantina to light the fire one of our neighbours told me that we were mentioned on prime time national TV last night. There is a  quiz programme called L’eredita which has a true/false round in it, the contestant thought that the idea of walking to Italy from the UK was so bonkers that it must be false.

Ponte Caffaro has two rivers which meet at Lago D’Idro. We checked that the Chiese was running earlier in the week at Val di Fumo. Today we thought that we should make sure that the Caffaro was in good shape. By doing this today we could kill two birds with one stone. Io hasten to add that killing birds with stones, or any other projectile for that matter, is not permitted without a properly signed permit here in Italy. Bird killing was just a figure of speech and not a new hobby. The second bird was to attend the opening of the fine new building which our bank has erected in Bagolino.

The Cassa Rurale is a cooperative bank which began when a group of local people in Darzo needed to buy a harvester. These enlightened people could not afford a harvester as individuals so joined together to buy the machine and the cooperative bank was born. The bank continues this enlightened pattern in which the depositors, borrowers and communities come first and last to this day.

After the tedious preamble above lets get on with it. We drove past Bagolino and towards Gaver, a small local ski resort, and parked in an empty car park. My camera has given up the ghost after the daily abuse on the trail and so I am reduced to the camera in my telephone to photograph our tour of inspection.

The signposts were a little confusing so we trotted off down the road.

The meadows between the road and the river looked soft and inviting. We drifted off the road and down towards the river on the meadows.

The snow on the mountains looked very inviting, something for another day I think. The soft inviting meadows became softer and softer as we walked on. The meadows became wetter and wetter as well.

At the valley’s end is a small hydro power station where we could retrace our steps or investigate a possible alternative return route, no choice then. We crossed the river and enjoyed a fabulous stroll down the other side of the valley. It was quite a relief when a footbridge turned up so that we could get back to the car without needing to paddle.

The middle of Bagolino was closed to traffic today so that marquees and open air bars could be enjoyed in a car free environment. As I said earlier the Cassa Rurale is a cooperative bank which returns stuff to the community. The festa was part of this return. After the blessing of the building and cutting of the tape anyone who wanted to do so could wander about the new building to look at it. After the ceremony a small drink, a chat and a stroll before the polenta and a glass of wine. As we ate our polenta we were serenaded by a musical duo. Can you imagine any of this from Barclays, HSBC or Lloyds?

Being a cheapskate I try to use as much free stuff as I can. This is really good for the newly impoverished person’s pocket but not good for time. It is really true, one has time or money or one has wealthy antecedents.

I have been trying to use free photo hosting sites in order to publish the remaining photos of the stroll. I am battering my head against an electronic brick wall at the moment and so today’s activities will remain forever unrecorded. Today’s activities were fairly dull in truth so humanity has lost nothing by this omission. Indeed one could argue that it has gained by not losing valuable life units in reading that which I have been unable to write.

I hope that by tomorrow evening the remaining photos will be shining forth and the task will be complete.

We have been grappling with the minutiae of daily life today. We have visited the estate agent who has responsibilities for our building and after a nice chat about this and that he handed over a surprising, and unwelcome, bunch of documents. These documents refer to our apparent, and, as so nicely put in the letter, obviously inadvertent failure to pay our council tax in 2008 and 2009.  As I was reading the letter I reflected on the likelihood that, if this were to have happened in the UK, we should be threatened with a court appearance a visit from the bailiffs and a stiff fine.

On a more mundane level, the weather is still cloudy and rainy with this state of affairs being blamed on Poppea. Classicists among you will know that Poppea was the mistress and, later, wife of the Emperor Nero. In modern Italy Poppea is the first Mediterranean storm of autumn but, apparently, this is not really the end of summer and Bacchus will return. We have also, lately enjoyed the attentions of Nero, from the perspective of meteorologists that is, not a return to an earlier and more heavy handed form of government.

The poorer weather has prompted me to try out the central heating in order to get any maintenance done before the weather becomes much colder. Since moving in the central heating has been a source of many surprises for us. At first the only way to get the heat on in our bedroom was to turn on the thermostat in the spare bedroom. This resulted in an overly warm bedroom as the heat was either full on or full off. This thermostatic inexactitude was echoed in other parts of the house, but our infrequent visits meant that we have done little about it as we have a log burning stove as back up. The room thermostats are very flimsy devices each powered by three small batteries. These batteries seem to fail very quickly and none appear to be working now. So we shall grasp the nettle firmly and get a plumber in to provide adequate controls. We shall have heat in the correct room. It will be controlled by us and not by a mysterious force.

During a visit to the local coop for some provisions this morning the proprietor asked me if there was an Italian version of this blog. I really should put a machine translator onto the thing but am a bit bothered about the strange results that can emerge. Although, it might be an innocent amusement to see what comes out of the other end of a Google type translation.

After a good sleep in our incredibly comfortable bed, in our cool and airy bedroom we drank a leisurely cup of tea in bed before starting this new, strangely sedentary, life. We are surrounded by familiar things and by familiar faces which we usually see in the context of a short holiday which has engendered in us the same feelings of a brief stay.

During the night there was a huge thunderstorm with buckets of rain blowing at the windows. The storm continued for much of the morning and, as we had expected that we should not arrive until today, we were incredibly grateful to be in the house and not on the open top of a mountain and having the pleasure of the thing at close quarters.

As we tucked into our bowls of breakfast AllBran this morning we were unable to believe that  the thing we had carelessly talked about for the last year or two was behind us and not a distant event in the future. If it were not for our friends and neighbours wanting to know about the various events I believe that we would think that we had imagined the whole thing.

For five months our daily life has been incredibly simple, just put one foot in front of the other and do the same thing the following day. We have eaten that which was put before us, washed our clothes in the bathroom basin, dressed ourselves in that which was cleanest and avidly read maps.

As we were getting some cheese and other delights in the deli’ this evening, after our stroll to check on the lake, the owner shook us by the hand and told everyone in the shop what we had done. One elderly lady was obviously unimpressed and thought that we must be bonkers.

So now we must learn how to cook again and to do all of the other domestic activities and responsibilities we have been able to shirk for these last five months.

Still, we have some fabulous mountains just down the road if we get fed up and need a good stroll.