⚜ Avvisi

Day 9 - Run! Run! Run!

San Quirico d’Orcia → Gallina (13 km)

If you missed the other days, you can access them here.

10 more minutes. And then 10 more and my 8 p.m. nap turned into a full night’s sleep. I was exhausted, dear avvisi readers and that is why you are receiving this dispatch later than usual. My partner and I thought we’d breeze through yesterday’s 13 km. Didn’t check the changes in elevation or the weather. Classic. I mean, why would we after 8 days of being a frying pan?

What do you do in a thunderstorm on top of a hill? – was on my mind a lot yesterday. Overthink, avoid poles and trees, run, keep going and pray? The physics of lightning is not something I usually think about, unless I’m the only other vertical target. I wished I hadn’t skipped all of those physics lessons. My obvious solution was to crouch with my backpack and walk, as if there’s enemy lines ahead. I would’ve passed for a WWI soldier, going through the trenches. My rationale - crouching levels my head with the grass around, so then surely the lightning won’t strike. I didn’t think about the trekking poles sticking out. I wish you had a side camera pointing at this moron, so you can laugh.

Now, the day started off well. By now, every morning is a ritual. Tape your feet, sip the cafe lungo, gobble the pastry, see what’s in the village and off you go. The Horti Leonini gardens in San Quirico d’Orcia were perfect for some hide-and-seek. Later on, there was nowhere to hide.

For three good hours, we kept going up and down Tuscan hills, spotting vineyard after vineyard. Some of these grapes probably end up in the bottles of Montepulciano that we drink at home. Sometimes you see a hill covered in yellow or brown-orange, resembling heaps of spices, the kind you would find in a bazaar in Cairo or Marakesh.

By 2 p.m. the rain gods were definitely not pleased with our recent offerings. A thunder foreshadowed what was to come. The soundscape would’ve been perfect for the next Nosferatu film. Clouds turned grey and the drizzle started. Within 30 minutes, checking the map on the phone was difficult without wiping the screen every 5 seconds.

It was only when we got out of the wooded areas and into the highest hills that I started thinking about lightning. Apparently, everything to do with it is a bit in the superlative: the air superheats to 30,000°C (five times hotter than the Sun’s surface), up to 200,000 amperes of current travels up a channel at about a third of the speed of light and the voltage goes up to 1 billion volts. These numbers baffle me, so I’ll turn to a more familiar analogy. Lightning feels like the lions in Rome’s Colloseum: formidable to watch from a distance, scary to hear, and you sure don’t want to be in close proximity.

Apparently, the “30-30 rule” states: seek shelter when thunder follows lightning by 30 seconds or less, and don’t venture out until 30 minutes after the last thunder. I’m glad we didn’t know that rule, as we wouldn’t have made it by nightfall.

At the top of the tallest hill, three electricity poles guarded the road. Our way turned right past them. Surely, the best strategy is to rush to reduce the chances of total annihilation.

“Run! Run! Run!” I shouted, as I started sprinting past the poles. Three steps in and a heavy thunder comes down, saying: “Do you think you can outrun nature, you moron?”. I could only laugh and keep walking, happy to let it up to chance if I make it or not.

When you’re in such weather, you have two storms to deal with. The first one is outside and you can be sensible and bring rain coats and boots and all that. The second one is inside of you. The latter ends when you reconcile with the possibility of being struck by lightning, your wet and muddy shoes and the exhaustion. And, maybe like a rainbow, a peace of mind settles and you get to enjoy the walk despite all the physical inconveniences. The outer storm still goes on, but the one inside has finished. Usually, that’s where the harshest storms happen anyways.

The day ended with the sound of rain on my coat and the activated scent of juniper trees. In the UK, this would’ve been a “nice summer walk”, topped with some fish and chips and a pint at the pub. The only local establishment in Gallina served delicious sandwiches with finocchiona (salami with fennel) and pecorino. The simplicity is amazing: white bread, olive oil, some meat and cheese. The locals looked at us as if we were hobbits, emerging from the forests. Not sure what they do with hobbits in this part of Italy, but I hoped they treat them better than cats in Vincenza.

Today was meant to rain, so we decided to take a break. No rain so far, so we’ll see if we get moving. Only two days left of Tuscany before entering Lazio.

Til tomorrow,

Florin