Altopascio to San Miniato 7/22

Today the pilgrimage was somewhat different. For almost the entire Via Francigena I have walked alone. I have stopped with other pilgrims at caffès or at rest stops along the path, I have met them at the end of the days walk and have started of the next day leaving together for the first few steps. But for the most part pilgrims on the Via Francigena seem to walk solo, but cross paths frequently. Except for a planned walk with two of my Camino de Santiago friends from Italy (see blog entry "El Camino Friends 7/4 & 7/5"), just about all of my walking has been rather solitary. 

As I started today's walk I saw ahead of me an Italian, Giorgio, who had stayed in the same ostello the night before in Altopascio. Also in that ostello was a young woman, Giada, who was walking from south to north for a portion of the Via, and three young people, Sergio, Caterina, and Paolo, from Bergamo in the north of Italy, walking the pilgrimage to Rome.

I saw Giorgio for some time about 200 or so meters ahead of me until the path took some turns. I didn't find out until night time in the next ostello that he got a little lost - at least off the official path - and that following him might have been a problem. However, there was one turn that the path took and I found myself on a private road to someone's house - dog barking in the yard and all. "Something is not right here." So I checked my invaluable Via Francigena GPS app and saw that I was indeed just a little bit off on a parallel path. It was only about 30 meters to backtrack the find the real path. At that fork I saw another pilgrim resting her backpack on the ground while drinking some water. We greeted each other and she said that she had seen me ahead of her for most of the morning. I'm glad she didn't follow me into the private road with the barking dog. By the way, Giorgio  made it fine with his alternate route with no significant extra kilometers.

So for that part of the morning I walked with Anna, a woman, like Giorgio, perhaps a few years older than me, who had started the pilgrimage from her home in Belgium. We mentioned other pilgrims that each of us met along the way and knew some mutually, like Gabriele, Poala,  Willie, and Jasmin. That was before we even introduced our own names to each other. Once we did she said, "Oh, you are Bryan. Poala said to say hello to Alberto and Bryan." And, no, there was no mention of any crocodile hunters, so she had not met Marco, who was only hiking for that one week before returning to work. Anna had not met Alberto, who I had met briefly at the San Caprasio ostello in Aulla - perhaps my favorite ostello so far. 

At about 9 or 10 we stopped at Ponte a Cappiano where there is an ostello for pilgrims that is actually built on the bridge over the river.

While we were resting near a small salumeria, Anna saw a young man, obviously another pilgrim because of his backpack and countenance of one looking for a place to find something to eat. She said, "That looks like Stefano, but I'm not sure because he has a beard" she explained that she had met Stefano, who had done a portion of the VF with his father but was now making his way to Rome solo. She went to see if it was him while I stopped at the bridge ostello for a bathroom break and to get a stamp for my pilgrim credentials. By the time I got out, Stefano must have moved on. Anna and I continued, but met Stefano later on in Fucecchio, where I was thinking to stay that night. There was no room in the little space that the Poor Claire convent had for pilgrims so I decided to go with Anna and Stefano to San Miniato Basso a few km further. Since Anna wanted to take  shorter route off of the official path, I walked the last portion of that day's stage with Stefano, a young man - late twenties or thirty. People always seem intrigued that I teach both science and religion, so we talked a bit about the relationship between these two subjects for a while - his mother also taught religion before retiring. We did not walk to the ostello together at the very end because he went off to have his traditional beer at the end of the day's walk.

At the ostello were Giorgio, who arrived before me despite his detour, Anna who arrived just a bit after me, and the three young Italians. They were all so pleasant, but Sergio was such an affable young man who enjoyed practicing his English with me, while I tried to respond in Italian. Paolo actually complimented my Italian. He said my pronunciation was very good and we all made the same joke at the same time, "...for an American."

The room was tiny with three sets of bunk beds and one bathroom - all the young people in the top bunks.