We settle in for another pasta dinner which, despite the on / off rain we manage to have outdoors on a very rickety picnic bench (hoots of laughter the first time one of us stands up and the other two tip over, not so funny the second time and positively frowned upon on the third occasion!) before the heavens open. 

We shelter in the “TV room”, which does exactly what it says on the tin and not a single thing more, whilst we wait for our washing to finish (yes we have finally washed our clothes!). 

Drying is obviously a bit more trixy given the weather but there is a tumble dryer big enough for some it and a judicious and dare I say skilled demonstration of how to use anything and everything available (windows, doors, taps, shelves, Dan, etc) to hang wet washing from reaps some reward ....well at least some things are now only mildly damp rather than dripping wet but at least they are clean (er).

After the efforts of the last three days it’s no surprise that we crash around 930 into a deep sleep...for a while at least. Around 10 a dog at a nearby house starts barking and then simply didn’t stop ....ever, or at least thats what it felt like. When the Serengeti like dawn chorus of birds woke us at 530 it felt like we had had nowhere near enough sleep. 

At the slightly odd time of 647 we get treated to some very exotic clock chimes from the local village of Caselette....

We finally get ourselves moving proper around 8am although we are instantly delayed when Dan let’s the campsite gate swung shut behind him as he leaves and it is now well and truly locked with Dan outside and us very much not! A 5 minute lap of the site by Marc and I does not reveal any other possible way out and I even go through the bins to see if there is code for the gate written on the receipt I was given last night but had thrown away (of course I threw it away, what else are receipts for?)

Miraculously I do actually manage to find the receipt in amongst everyone’s rubbish (fortunately the site was not at capacity!) but alas, no code. We are just thinking about stripping our bikes down to their component elements and passing bits of them through the fence like some weird jail break scene when another camper (resident?) appears. In our best pigeon Italian (in other words adding an “...eo” to every word) we manage to ask “caneo youeo unlockeo the gateo per favore?” He not only understands (this Italian malarkey is an absolute breeze btw) but he also releases us from our campsite prison and so finally we are on our way.

Before we head off into the long flat (whoop whoop....they are so unbelievably flat!!) plains of the Po valley we have a quick touristy trip around Turin....well it is the home of the Italian job after all...

...but unfortunately Turin is grey and wet and I am afraid to say a bit underwhelming. 

Our moods our not helped when first I then Marc shortly afterwards, pick up some “road rash” courtesy of the lethally slippy cobbled streets and ice like tram lines. We are both absolutely fine, albeit sore, and thankfully so are the bikes but we then proceed to gingerly and very slowly inch our way around trying to find the right route out of the city. We eventually give up on finding the Galleria San Federico (best scene in the film, three minis skidding around the famous shopping mall in the centre of Turin) and decide we should get on with our day.

We also after all still have the not insignificant matter of 105 miles to get us across to Pavia, our next destination. 

So with just 20 miles done, and almost as many bruises accrued, we decide we have seen enough of Turin and it’s grey skies,drizzle and murderous cobbled streets and so we  head off eastwards.

As advertised this bit of Northern Italy is flatter than a witches ....pancake! 

On balance I think unfortunately this has been the least inspiring bit of our journey so far.....maybe I’m even more tired than I think I am (and God I am so tired) and I guess it’s normal that after the Alps anything else runs the risk of feeling, well just a bit “meh”. But also I do think the roads are noticeably in much worse condition than we have experienced anywhere on our journey so far and Italian drivers definitely do not give cyclists the same amount of respect or space that the French seem to have done. As I say maybe this is tiredness talking or perhaps it’s because I have spent a good proportion of the day sliding along the cobbled streets of Turin on my elbow and boppum. Either way, Northern Italy.....not so much the romantic ideal I had in my head I’m afraid. 

We do still manage to arrive safe and sound (despite the best efforts of the awful roads, traffic, cobbles and tramlines) at Camping Ticino on the outskirts of Pavia (again meh! God I really have got the gloom’s today haven’t I) after 105 flat miles and not an insignificant amount of jeopardy.....I’m glad it’s done and we are one step closer to Rome.

Ps. We had a discussion earlier today about the fact we still haven’t taken our rest day and we all 100% agreed that at some point we should. It didn’t feel right, or wholly safe to do so, in the Alps and so we are now waiting for the weather to change. I mean who wants to spend their rest day in a bar when it’s pouring with rain outside when they could spend it in a bar with the sun shining outside?

I really do hope you are enjoying reading about our adventure. To be completely candid we are having a fantastic time and I am really quite enjoying writing the days events up for you. Please don’t though forget that this is about much more than your enjoyment or indeed ours. Please, please, please just donate something no matter how small ….it will make a massive difference. Thanks so much.