Today began early (5:30 a.m.) as I attempt to beat the Italian summer heat and make progress toward meeting Karen in Lucca on August 7th. I also simply like to watch the sun rise on a new day. It’s a powerful reminder that God’s mercies do renew every day, with every sun rise.

I passed through Palestro at the 11.0 km mark in the morning around 8:00 a.m., but found no “services” (no open cafe’s). Frankly, it was a pretty depressed looking town and I would soon learn they’re not exactly rolling out the welcome mat for pilgrims on the Via Francigena.

Shortly after leaving Palestro the quality of the trail begins to decline rapidly and significantly to the point (beyond the photo on the right along that tree line in the distance), I begin to blaze my own trail following the GPS map which takes me through waste high weeds, a rice field (these are submerged in water BTW) and a field of thigh-high green beans (apologies to the farmer, but at times my only course was through his green beans). I regret not taking photos of my bushwhacking but I was preoccupied with the battle at hand and cursing the local chamber of commerce for its lack of care for the Via Francigena (the trail is maintained locally by each town or region through which it runs as I understand it).

I make my way through the bush to find myself yet again in fields of rice (& occasional corn & beans).

Robbio delivers on the “services” I’ve been craving since leaving Vercelli at 5:30 this morning.

If today’s photos look a lot like the ones from yesterday and the day before, well, that’s because the scenery today looked a lot like the scenery from the day before and the day before that. As the say in the Po Valley, “once you’ve seen one field of rice growing, you’ve seen them all.” Actually, I’m projecting. That’s what I say now. In fact, I wouldn’t know what people in the Po Valley say, because … I haven’t seen anyone in the Po Valley. No pilgrim sightings and very few interactions with people beyond meals and a random, curious farmer fertilizing his field of rice who inquired about my destination (while I was on the phone with Karen).

The tiny town of Nicorvo also delivers. After another 6.5km (1 1/2 hours) beyond my breakfast in Robbio, I enter the town of Nicorvo with low expectations for lunch and prepared to settle for a beer and potato chips per the previous day. Instead, I duck into the first cafe’ I see and ask about the possibility of a panini to go with my beer (I’ve already spotted beer in her small fridge). “No panini” she says with a face that says “I’m sorry to disappoint you,” but she says she can make me homemade pasta and provides 3 or 4 options for me. Little does she know homemade pasta is my LOVE language … “Yes!, I’ll do you a solid and settle for the homemade tagliatelle with bolognese sauce just so you feel better.” The picture below is what the world looks like when it fully aligns and the generous givers collide with grateful receivers .. besties forever!

After a delicious lunch, I continue on through … yep, more rice fields, until I reach my destination for the evening on the outskirts of Mortara. A beautiful B&B run by a husband and wife team. We’re expecting four more for dinner at 8:00 p.m.