After the steep hills of Tuscany I was excited to continue this journey into the rolling landscape of Lazio. Having begun surrounded by the foothills of the Alps, in the ostentatiously decadent and smug city of Lugano, with streets filled with Maseratis and Lamborghinis, we were looking forward to making our way into the crumbling beauty of Southern Italy.

From Castellina in Chianti we sailed downhill. We had warm air blowing in our face and spectacular views in all directions. The open vistas of hilltop towns and rows of vines provide pleasantly aesthetic scenery throughout this area. The road was wide and flat. Barely a pothole in sight. We enjoyed ourselves immensely. We had decided to rest in Stigliano, a very small town just to the east of Siena. Behind it climb steep hills covered in woodland. Just to the left is the major GlaxoSmithKline office for Italy. The contrast between corporate ugliness and natural beauty is one which shows how poor most human creations are, the medicinal benefits to humanity notwithstanding.

The simple stone houses in the village attest to the relative decline in our ability to put beauty above profit. It was the perfect place to rest our weary legs. The sharp hills of Tuscany had robbed us of the strength we had built up. There was not a great deal to do in Stigliano except walk up the hill and enjoy the warm sun on our face. Hidden amongst this forest are undoubtedly some fungal treasures but their whereabouts are closely kept secrets. On seeing one man stroll into the forest I asked if he was off looking for porcini and he just gave me a knowing smile and said there’s nothing in these forests. His barely concealed wicker basket suggested otherwise. Understandably, he didn’t want to share the land’s bounty with newly arrived interlopers. Italian hospitality only went so far.

We had the sharpest hills of Tuscany far behind us now. Somehow these hills were far harder than cycling the mountain roads of the Apennines; the continual ups and downs eventually wore us down as freewheeling merely became the harbinger of more uphill exertions rather than the fun and carefree experience it had been on the mountain roads. Following a mixture of everything from rough tracks to dual carriageways, we made our way towards the town of Buonconvento. Recognised as ‘one of the most beautiful villages of Italy’ in what is undoubtedly a competitive field, it provided a bucolic environment in which to eat our leftover pasta. It is around this stage where the expensive Tuscan villas start to peter out a little bit and more arable farmland takes over from the olive groves and vineyards.

There were a few nice benches in the sun just outside of the town walls and around us a variety of other cyclists were passing through. Some on electric bikes. It was hard not to despise people on electric bikes as they casually glided up the hills whilst we put every ounce of muscle into moving upwards. We found the Il Cantuccio wine bar, just around the corner from the main street. This stylish bar seemed to hold the usual crowd of quiet daytime drinkers enjoying the thin autumn sun with a glass of rosé. Inside it was chic, if a little new in its skin; a few more years of scuffs will see it settling into its timeless surroundings. The cold Italian lager was very refreshing and drinking it in the sun induced a degree of smugness in us.

We spent the afternoon heading towards San Quirico d’Orcia. We were told that the Val d’Orcia is one of the most picturesque regions in Italy and this was not wrong. The gently undulating hillsides were very aesthetically pleasing, if a bit bare. We came to a set of paths off the road where a mass of cars had pulled up to photograph their own version of this famous scene. We decided to head in the opposite direction and look for somewhere to camp which would be tucked out of the way. Eventually we settled for a spot which was just beside the path. The views down the valley were spectacular. After eating our dinner and lying looking down at the view we put our tent up. We woke to the sound of a farmer ploughing the field next to us. He had started very early which initially was a little bit annoying. We realised we would not be able to snooze through the sound so commenced the de-camping routine by groggily packing away the tent. The sun was just beginning to rise, pushing the night sky, pockmarked with stars, away from view. Faint mountain ridges were visible now. We decided to make a cup of tea and watch the scenes change around us. Eventually the farmer stopped and the chugging sound was replaced with not much. It was a very unique way to start the day. We walked back down the path and made our way towards the nearest water fountain to fill our bottles. On the way we passed a bicycle shop and the owner was outside pumping up wheels on his rental bike, he quickly did our wheels free of charge. We were on the receiving end of some good karma.

That day we were passing near to one of the many remarkable thermal baths that are dotted along Italy’s volcanic spine. We cycled up the punishing hill towards the pretty little town of Bagni San Filippo. It is a town centred around these hot springs named after a thirteenth century hermit who had lived in the area. We strolled down the hill excited to try this unique experience. The thermal water rises at the top of the valley and a series of pools have been constructed which slowly get warmer the further you go down. The final pools are remarkably hot and we sat and soaked ourselves in this restorative water. It was a busy day with families and groups of friends lounging in all the various pools. We kept ourselves to ourselves and enjoyed the peaceful sound of chattering Italians as the warmth seeped into our aching muscles. After slowly allowing ourselves to cool down we made our way towards our bikes thinking about how remarkably varied this landscape was. The heat had made us hungry so we popped into the Bar La Cascata and treated ourselves to a beer and some porcini pasta. It was tasty and restorative. The combination of the hot soak and filling pasta meal provided us with enough energy to carry on our journey towards Acquapendente.

Just before we made our way up the hill to Acquapendente, we found a secluded meadow beside the River Paglia. Tucked away and on flat ground we had a peaceful evening and a sound night’s sleep. This was one of the moments that we were truly grateful for modern technology. With the satellite images from Google Maps we were able to find places to camp which were secluded and far from any houses so as to avoid annoying anyone. Without this technology we would have had to have tried a lot of little paths in the hope they would lead us to somewhere nice. As it was we could scout out the rough area we would like to finish our day and look for any tracks that led to quiet corners, ideally near a river or tucked away into a forest clearing. Of course, sometimes we would just stumble across a great place to pitch our tent but on days when we were knackered it was nice to know we had a rough idea of where we would sleep that night.

Over breakfast we discussed where our end point should be. My sister and her partner were cycling down the Adriatic Coast, heading towards Greece. We thought that maybe we could cycle down to the south of Italy and take a ferry across to Tirana in Albania. The only trouble with that was that they were having consistently worse weather and we were waking up to sunshine every day. After scouting around a little bit we started to settle on the idea of heading down towards Sicily. It all sounded very romantic. It also looked as though we could find a place to stay in southern Sicily for a pretty reasonable price.

Heading straight uphill was never the dream way of starting a day, even worse was arriving into a small town where the inhabitants were largely older and still gripped by covid fear. The inevitable glares aimed in our direction, obvious outsiders, were not ideal and something we had not really experienced in Italy until now. It probably didn’t help that the only place to fill our water bottles was right next to a testing centre! We were soon on our way, heading towards Lake Bolsena after a quick stop to pick up some tasty looking walnuts.

Lake Bolsena is the largest volcanic lake in Europe and within the lake are two islands formed by eruptions from the Vulsini volcano. The town of Bolsena is steeped in Etruscan roots: the last Etruscan town to hold out against the Romans is believed to have been close by. Originally called Volsinii, it became Bolsena after the Romans took control of the area in around 292BC. The town itself is very pretty and home to a range of craft shops. We bought a beautiful handcrafted walnut chopping board for €10 which made chopping our vegetables a hell of a lot easier. It is funny how small improvements make a massive difference when your belongings are very minimal. We also bought a delicious bottle of red wine from Montepulciano for €5 which we then enjoyed on the southern beach of the lake, after a refreshing dip in the water. We ended up camping on the beach which gave us a brilliant view to wake up to but there was a small road just behind us which was much busier than we thought it would be. As each car passed we were woken up. The slight thought in the back of our mind that wild camping was not strictly legal in Italy did not help us have a relaxing night’s sleep.

The sides of the tent flapped angrily all night. Out on the beach we were exposed to a whipping wind which appeared out of nowhere. By the time the sun rose the wind had disappeared again. Only there to disrupt our sleep and ensure that we woke feeling more tired than we did when we first lay down. Swimming in the lake helped a bit. Pushing our bikes up a vertical hill also helped to get the blood flowing. We decided that we would have a big day of cycling so that the following day would be relatively short and we would be able to arrive in Rome at around lunchtime. We were aiming for another lake, this time it would be Lago di Bracciano which was around 70 km away. We had found what looked like a secluded spot where we would be able to pitch our tent right on the shore of the lake. As we made our way there we cycled through miles of hazel coppice. I’m sure plenty of the nuts grown in this region make their way into Nutella pots. We also followed an ancient section of the via Francigena. This old pilgrimage route is what we had roughly been following as it winds down from Canterbury to Rome. This section was lined with ancient Sweet Chestnut trees which had been pollarded many times throughout their lives. The result was gnarled trees who cast a benevolent eye over us as we wiggled down the poorly repaired track. Someone had decided that rubble mixed with glass and plastic was the perfect thing to lay on this ancient way. It slightly disrupted the feeling of this idyllic pathway.

As we made it closer to the lake, my front brake pads finally wore right through and I had to pre-emptively slow myself down. The final few kilometres of this long day were passed at an agonisingly slow speed as I sought to maintain control. When we found the track down to the beach we were comforted that it was suitably overgrown. There would be no cars passing by at night this time! There was also plenty of shelter and the beach was our own to enjoy. Another refreshing swim helped us to feel as though we were settled once more. It is remarkable how cold, clean water can change your entire mood. Instantly the efforts and stresses of the day are washed away.