Wednesday 14th May 7th Day.

And God said on the seventh day..... Well I forgot that and made scoot work even harder than the other six days,  she can have a proper rest after tomorrow.   

It's my 59th birthday today, and hasn't it been a cracker.  

I was up just after 4am as I hadn't finished yesterday's blog, last night, when my laptop threatened to commit hari kari, if I didn't charge it up... I've only got one euro adaptor with me, which means that I have to spend most of the evenings switching between appliances that need a fix.  First in line has to be tom tom, who won't go the full eight hours on it's battery, I'd forgotten that when I used it on the HD last year I had it wired into the battery.  This year of course, no battery.  If it's not absolutely charged up then I don't think I would get to my destination each evening.  I also have to charge the Tom Tom head set (which is another adaptor, microscopically different from the main unit), then there's my phone, my ipod and lastly the MacBook.  I really needed a small 4 way adaptor, but there was no room for it.   Charging these and unpacking and repacking the rucksac (which has to be done with military precision or it won't fit back in) has to be done everyday, and is beginning to drive me mad.  

The condemned birthday boy ate a hearty breakfast and was away by about 9:15.   The road went into overdrive almost outside my hotel entrance and we were soon labouring away mostly in third, some in second, and once after serious grating noises into first gear.  The 40 ton lorries and I seriously got in each other's way, with the same four or five passing me on the straights and me re-passing them on the hairpins.  The scenery was breathtaking.  (We should run a mini trip down over most of this route sometime) and the road really good if not hard work.    The decision as to which route to take was made for me by the Col being closed due to being uncleared yet of winter snow,  so no choice, the tunnel it had to be.   

The tunnel itself is about 5 miles long but is pre and postceeded by about 5 miles on each end that has a snow roof over the top and pillars every ten foot on the outside edge, the other wall being the side of the mountain.  So you can guess that once up to this 15 mile stretch which is right at the top, it's no sunlight and freezing cold.  I'm travelling to combat the heat and because of the slowness only in a pair of trainers, light jeans and a thin leather jacket, with cardie and shirt underneath.  Wow I really got the shivers.   Once in the tunnel proper you have to pay up at the toll booth and I think that when he'd seen me through, the guy must have phoned ahead, cos when I got to the Customs Post, which is buried under the mountain, all the customs officers came out, walked twice round the scoot, slapped me on the back and wished me a safe journey.    I set my Halford's best flashing cycle rear light going, gritted my teeth and set off.

It probably isn't all that dark, but with no real lights and having forgotten to change from my super dark riding glasses back into ordinary ones, it sure seemed dark to me.  It's pretty narrow too, only one lane each way, and with no mirrors, I can't see what's behind me without looking over my shoulder.  No way was I doing that, so winding the bike up to it's glorious best of 80KPH I hoped for the best.

If anyone has read The Hobbit, they will remember when Smaug, the dragon, was woken from a hundred year sleep as the hobbits tried to steal his treasure.  Well as far as I could tell Smaug was behind me all the way through,  I couldn't actually see him, but I could feel his hot breath, and smell him, as well as hear his every complaint.   Only when out the other side and able to pull over slightly did Smaug turn into 6 huge lorries, who all blared their horns and flashed their lights as they went past.

There was nowhere to stop on the other side for about 5 or 6 miles, but as soon as I could I was off the bike and rewarming myself in the sunlight.   I think it was only me that was worried as the Vespa took it all in it's stride.  I didn't tell it of my fears of it having one of it's coughing fits whilst inside the mountain and no where to park other than in the direct line of fire as it where.

On the Italian side, workmen were still clearing snow deposits off the sides of the roads using what seemed to be huge jets of steam from a slowly moving cavalcade of vehicles.   You could tell immediately that we were in Italy cos the two lads who were in charge of the red and green table tennis bats that were being used to control the contraflow, were dressed in designer clothes and wearing sunglasses even though in the semi dark.  They just have to look cool.

It's amazing how quickly everthing starts to look really Italian within a few miles of the border, both the scenery and houses and people.  Driving standards also change immediately and any more chance of being given a wide berth are soon forgotten.   I don't remember the run down to Alessandria, although I must have passed this way once before, but it takes about an hour and a half to get out of the mountains, through never ending villages clinging to the sides of the mointain.  Once down on the plains, I rode for a good hour through what appear to be Paddy fields growing Rice.  The Italians must have cracked the manual work bit cos for miles I never saw anyone working the fields, some of which were flooded, some growing green and some waiting to be planted.

Alessandria looks really good, and I will explore and take some photos a bit later on.  It's funny really but now that I'm so close (only 120 miles to go, in a car, I'd just drive on no matter how tired), I just want to get there, and am really looking forward to seeing Grace and my extended Italian side of the family tomorrow.   If I get up early enough I could get there for lunch... who knows.