A flight over to ‘Comboland’ last weekend promised a glorious walk in the hills of Piedmonte. ‘The views will be spectacular’ promised Ron. The walk, organised by the Club Alpino Italiano was a circular hop around five Medieval Towers at the villages of, Monastero, Scarampi, Olmo, Roccaverno and Vengore. A total of 32 kms for the real walkers and 18 km for us feeble, booze soaked Englishmen, who took a coach up to the first village, Scarampi. Sadly the weather was so foul that even at the foot of each tower we could barely make out it’s top, shrouded in mist and rain. The meal and copious quantities of red wine and the end more than made amends and I had the dubious honour of winning a generous hamper of local produce for travelling the furthest distance to compete. After the thrill of the ‘barn find’ Lamborghini, Ron and I suffered the humiliation of being overtaken by a 72 year old, who ran the full distance, gave advise on the route to the second oldest man on the walk, caped in red, who strode ahead at a brisk pace and finally, drowned in red my name appeared in lights at the end scrawled on an old cardboard box!
9 comments:
....a barn find Lambo, AND you seem to be standing next to Mauro Forghieri! Serendipity or what?
You did very well for an old chap...although it's not like climbing the Andes or walking across the Antarctic, is it? Still, it all gets harder according to the company one keeps.
Ben, Are you that rower? Not having a telly, I'm a little out of touch. You're correct Affer, Forgheri was running the show. Things are a bit quite in the Ferarri camp.
I endorse every word. I have never been muddier since rugger at St. Custard's on Battledown field. All the Italians pissing themselves saying, "well, it's raining, must be like being at home for you two!" Hah sodding hah indeed.
That bloke on the left of the second picture down. Is that a whip aerial sticking out of his haversack? A radio to summon help to get him another twenty yards? I think we should be told.
So, did you make an offer on the Lambo? How many soggy Euros need to change hands to secure that little vixen of a tracked vehicle eh? Eh?
I'm also a bit worried about that bottom pic. Toby. You look like you're about to suddenly whip off an all-weather cover from your genitalia.
That'll have to be the official opening of the barn-find season. As sure as the swallows return, the little verdent burst of seed appear on the elm and the firing up of the barbie - we shall go forth and barn-rummage in May as every May before. My chosen target for Sunday's expedition will, I'm lead to believe, unearth a basket-case howard gem rotovator which should yield up its Hatz diesel engine to live another day, plough another furrow and shake the windows out of the neighbours new extension in Diploville.
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