Sunday, 12 February 2017


From my town I can see another smaller hilltop village called Cigoli. Whenever I see the name I think of Istanbul and the çig kofte you can eat there. There is no connection between the two of them except in my brain I suppose but I have been feeling for a while that I really ought visit my neighbour if only to look back upon my own home.

Trouble is up until recently I thought the only way to get there was to walk down my hilltop then along a bitumen road that makes regular mincemeat out of cyclists and then up another hilltop. It wasn't even the mincemeat that was putting me off. It was the hills, oh the hills ( although the Woodlander has very kindly lent me a safety jacket so at least now when I climb the hilltop at night I will glow like a bobbing cigarette butt right up to the top.)

Anyway you can imagine my delight when I discovered  that the two villages actually rest on the same hill spine and I can actually walk a back road which follows this very spine. Yes there are still undulations but only little ups and little downs and I have discovered that on a Sunday afternoon it is where everyone seems to walk. And friendly folk too. Full of smiles and nodding bald heads which I appreciate very much.

Olive grove on my jaunt

Blurry shot of snowy mountains - not wine induced just a cheap camera


Enjoying a tipple on the road

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