Arco, Italy, was (our satnav brain assured us) best approached by firstly coaxing the Taj up the remaining rise of the Alps which, with cabin heaters on to control engine temperature, we did. Luckily the road was wide enough at times for us to let past the Mercedes convertibles and Audi station wagons banking up behind us. Frequent tunnels caused our brain to lose its satellite connection but no unexpected turn-offs eventuated. On the other side of the mountains road signs began to wear Italian-looking place names (though we were still in Switzerland) and fewer people understood English. But it wasn’t until we crossed the border that things became fully Italian: dudes walking around in aviators, tight jeans, pointed leather shoes and a suit jacket; ladies in equally massive sunglasses, loaded down with gold and silver jewellery and oversized handbags, with an unlikely number of them blonde.
Eventually we wound our way down a mountainside to the town of Toledo on Lake Guarda (famous for windsurfing) and then took the additional 5 km to Arco. We were in the Sarche Valley now, the steep sides made up of tree-covered slopes and white limestone cliffs—the reason we were here!
Our first week in Arco was taken up almost entirely by work. This was the first time we both had (almost) fulltime work in the van, and we were glad when it finished. In the second week we finally got onto some rock…
Which turned out to be very different to elsewhere on this trip! Apparently frictionless (compared to granite, and of course gritstone) and with so many small features that they all seem like viable holds from below, until you actually try to use them. Then eventually you find the one usable pocket or crimp, but are too pumped to continue. Anyway, we got used to this eventually and are now becoming ridiculously strong on the long, steep routes at the Massone cliff, and loving it.
Arco village is a cute place, chock full with unusually fit (and mostly Austrian) tourists (the area is famous for mountain biking and hiking, as well as climbing and windsurfing), outdoor gear shops, cafes and pizza joints. These folk really do seem to live on just pizza and pasta.
We realised a few days ago that, with the funky new exchange rate, staying at this (admittedly nice) caravan park is costing us more than our apartment in South Perth did. Ouch.
Aviators!
And Jess did regale me recently as to how much South Perth cost (all of Perth is expensive as far as I’m concerned)
Hey Ol, is that a full head of hair you’ve got there? Trying to look good amongst all those pizza chewing, pointed leather shoe wearing Italians?
I bet they have good coffee.