Time off

Thursday 26 June

Nothing planned for today, and the weather started fine, so we took a day ticket on the lake boats and headed north into the fjord-like upper reaches of the lake.  The day pass allows one to use the high-speed ferries as well as the regular non-supplement jobs, so we did the first and last legs on the hydrofoil.  Interesting experience, though a bit noisy, and quite choppy when the foil slices through someone’s wash. 

Malcesine is a lovely town, with a castle from which the views of the lake are superb.  We had toyed with the idea of taking the cable car up the Monte Baldo, but one look at the queues eliminated that idea.  A consequence of Malcesine’s beauty is the throng of tourists it attracts, and a Goethe connection means that you hear little other than German spoken, though also some Russian and the occasional word of English.  Even some Italian now and then.  The town offers glimpses of the lake and mountains as you look along its narrow streets, so I might be able to use some of my photographs as the basis for a daub or two.

From Malcesine, suitably refreshed, we took an old-fashioned boat up to Riva, at the head of the lake, where we had lunch and a good stroll round.  The approach to Riva is fun: because the lake is narrow at this point, the wind is stronger, and the water is full of wind surfers and small yachts.  They appeared to be having a lot of fun, though the bloke driving our boat signalled a spot of impatience with the ship’s whistle at regular intervals.  Riva is a larger and less cramped town than Malcesine, though it too has its quota of narrow streets, here between taller buildings, hence allowing dramatic glimpses of mountain here and there.  The place is slightly spoiled by a big hydro-electric plant on the lakeside, but it hides in a rather fancy outer layer that conceals the mechanics, except for the huge pipes running up the hillside. 

Thence to Limone for a stroll along its narrow streets, running the gauntlet of countless tourist traps.  I popped into one of the shops to pick up a bottle of wine, and was queuing to pay when a Brunnhilde shoved me out of the way to join her friend at the check-out, bellowing Entschuldigung!  Entschuldigung!  Oh well.  I consoled myself in due course with an Aperol Spritz, a rather bitter long drink made with a Venetian liqueur, a distant wave from a prosecco bottle and some fizzy water.  Not unpleasant, but, I think, an acquired taste.  Which might also be said of Limone.

From Limone we got the hydrofoil back to Gardone, just in time to get drenched by a shower.  It was not enough to start up the leak in the roof, fortunately, and freshened the air a bit.

Friday 27 June

Quite a few of us dipped out of the coach trip to Milan today.  Four hours in a coach and guided pavement pounding did not appeal to us, particularly since we have the Venice trip tomorrow, and then two further days of travelling from Sunday.  So, back on the boat, this time to the market in Garda, where we treated ourselves to a couple of very cheap shirts: I’d noticed that I’ve worked my way down to the least favourite ones in the wardrobe.  Garda too was very crowded, and geared to a predominantly German clientèle.  So it was once up and down the market, a wander through the streets to find a cash machine, and then a glass of wine and back on the boat to the infinitely quieter and more refined Gardone for lunch and a siesta.

Duck on the menu tonight.  Martyn denies conspiring to this end.