La prova che siamo andati in biciclette

Having spent a month or so cycling within town and a daily jaunt atop the city walls, we were intimidated off the walls last Sunday by a bike race and so ventured out of town properly for the first time.

We chanced upon a nice route along the river thanks to The Seffalice's instant memorization of local maps and instinctive sense of direction that definitely didn't start by taking us in the wrong direction onto a busy main A-road.

Here is the route marked in regal purple (click on the image for a bigger version), the numbers below marry up to those on the map:


1.
The beginning and end - our flat at Piazza Anfiteatro. There's no part of the amphitheatre itself left; after it fell into disuse locals took the stone from it, bit by bit, to build stuff elsewhere. Now there's no trace of it other than: (i) the elliptical shape where homes (including our apartment) were built against its walls before it was dismantled; and (ii) the arches to get into the piazza (through which gladiators, animals and now Seffalices have entered since Roman times).


Not from our cycle ride yesterday but proof that Il Seffalice can be on a bike with both feet off the ground without falling off for at least the split second it takes to take a photo.

2.

At the start of the route proper, facing the home straight on the other side of the bridge: Monte San Quirico.

3.

Off the road and onto the cycle path. “Wait there for a picture”, I say. Sure thing.

4.

Arty and eerie. The Commune di Lucca is renowned for its luminous haunted woods in which the ghosts can only move in straight lines. It's where Pacman retired to.

5.

Oooh, a church. Through the trees. Let's have a look at it.

6.
Oops. A wrong turn into someone's back garden as The Seffalice tries to get to the mysterious church.

7.
The village of Nave, too small to be named even on this ridiculously detailed map. And as you might guess, there's nothing here of interest. Not even the church which turned out to be nothing more than an campanile. As you can from the purple tracks see we explored it thoroughly before writing it off, never to return.

8.

In the distance, the bridge at Ponte San Pietro, the halfway mark. Being Lucca it's raining now, of course.

9.

The closest we've ever been to the what looked like the end of a rainbow, just in the neighbouring field. The local leprechiauni wouldn't let us near though for fear we'd steal their fascini fortunati.

10.

Soaked, exhausted and verging on hysteria as we approach the end, you'd have thought, from her expression, that La Seffalice was going downhill. It was as nearasdammit flat.