The coastal walk, and goodbye to a trusty companion

10/28 Sperlonga to Gaeta - 17.52 miles

The bus from Fondi back to Sperlonga was at 10:10, so I was not in too great of a hurry to wake up. When I finally did step outside, I was surprised to find a dark and stormy morning with big thick rain droplets. Hoping that the coast would be better, I nonetheless armed myself for the rain. Though slightly better, the coast was still misty as I started my walk from the piazza where I had departed the evening before.

Since this area bordered a park called Riviera di Ulysse (this area seems to be obsessed with Homer's epic), I looked for some trails to avoid the busy coastal road, and finding one immediately after an archaeological site, started up the small hill. After a short distance, I reached a fork in the road with no indications, so using common sense, I took the trail that led over the coastal road rather than down towards it. By the time I realized that this trail was not actually a trail, I had climbed a very large and steep hill, so seeing a road above, I decided to see where it led. As it turns out, it led inland, exactly the opposite of what I needed, but by now it was too late to turn back and head down that crazy hill. The GPS rerouted me a little ways further, and deciding to be adventurous, I went along for the ride.

I found myself in a gated community with large houses, and soon found out why they were up here, cut off from both Sperlonga and Gaeta and linked to civilization by a single dirt road: each house had amazing views of the nature reserve as well as the sea. Taking some stellar pictures in the rain, I had my fill of the views, and began to pick my way back down to the road leading to Gaeta. However, taking the exact path described by my GPS, I found homes blocking the way. This was the first time my GPS led me astray, as far as I could recall, and I could not help feeling betrayed. I went through many of the steps: denial, anger, regret, loss of appetite, but since it was raining I skipped the rest, accepted the horrible truth, and moved on.

But where to go? Would I have to back track all the way to Sperlonga and start over again? No way! Walking a bit further, I saw that the mountain sloped down to the road that I needed to reach. And so I walked down a mountain (in the picture, from top left to near that big electrical pole, then straight ahead). No roads, no trails, just me picking out the best path. When I reached the bottom and looked up at where I had been, I was filled with great pride at my mountain man maneuver. I turned on the camera, snapped the photo, and watched with horror as the LCD darkened, darkened, fuzzed, and went black. I had just short circuited my camera.

Unable to believe what had just happened, I nonetheless stayed the sense of panic, and continued on my walk, hoping that a few hours of down time would restore it to its former glory.

I walked into the series of tunnels that ran under the mountains I had just explored. It was there that I saw my first major car accident, a truck and two absolutely totaled cars, with ambulances and police just arriving on the scene. As it had just happened two or three minutes before, people were just starting to get out of cars and walk to the scene. Never the one to stare at car accidents, I passed without even stopping or even slowing, and for the next fifteen minutes I became the information guy. For over a half mile, one out of three cars stopped me to ask what had happened. At first I enjoyed being the one in the know, but it grew old and really annoying quickly, and I was glad to be free from that responsibility once I had passed the area of the accident.

When I reached Gaeta, I called the church whose number I had, and learning that they were closed, was on my own. I walked in the late afternoon downpour to the center of town, and lucked into an open tourist information office in a side alley. The man there was extremely helpful and very animated, and within a few minutes, I was off toward a nice family-run hotel in the historical center.

The place was run by three little old ladies who argued amongst each other about everything, but all in all were very sweet. They sent me to a nice place for dinner, but finding it closed (it was Tuesday night, the universal closure day for Gaeta. Of course.), I was directed to a pizzeria down the street. There I was treated like family, spent the evening chatting with the chef and the owner, and ate so much that I had trouble sleeping. I just couldn't say no when they offered to share the desserts that mama had made that very day. How terribly rude to say no!