2025 Italy, Day 77: Buguggiate, Night 3 of 3

If you would like to see details about our journey, check out our itinerary and our bike route.

Our apartment is so comfortable. We slept well last night and were ready for our last day on the bikes in Italy.

The first part of the route was back down the hill to the grocery store. Then we turned right and started following the path around Lake Varese.

We met other bikers, walkers, dogs, and little ones in strollers. Throughout Italy, we have noticed that on weekdays, grandparents (or at least people of grandparenting age), both nonne and nonni (grandmothers and grandfathers), are out with the babies and toddlers.

About halfway around the lake, we stopped for cappuccini and cornetti, and talked with a couple who live on the other side of the lake. He usually bikes around the lake, he said, but today he was with his wife, who doesn't bike.

The cafe was attached to a grocery store. I went in and bought a pound of vacuum-sealed parmigiano reggiano to bring home. We bungeed it to Ken's back rack.

The trail wove through little villages and parks, past a rowing club, a couple small marinas, a neighborhood of large homes with beautiful gardens. The weather was perfect, in the mid-70s with a mix of clouds and sun and a light breeze.

Ken went over a big bump, and the cheese flew up and landed on the trail in front of me. I picked it up. It was fine. We bungeed it back on Ken's rack.

On the way up the hill to our apartment, we decided to stop for pizza at the neighborhood restaurant where we had had dinner the first night. Pizza was not on their lunch menu. So we tried another restaurant. They also did not have pizza. We settled for pasta.

After that, we really kind of wanted to take a nap. But instead, we hauled the boxes onto the patio, broke down the bikes, and packed them up for the flight home.

Then it was time for showers and our last dinner, assembled from all the things we had left in our snack bag and the refrigerator.

The van we have hired to take us to the airport will arrive at 7:30 in the morning. We will be ready.

A pretty day, a quiet bike path around Lake Varese.

Varese is a small, calm lake surrounded by villages and parks.

The patio of our apartment was the perfect place to pack up the bikes. We were glad the guys at the bike store had saved all the packing materials, so we could wrap everything up well.

2025 Italy, Day 76: Buguggiate, Night 2 of 3

If you would like to see details about our journey, check out our itinerary and our bike route.

It was another gorgeous day, a bit chilly (mid-50s), clear and sunny.

By 9:00, we were walking to the All4cycling bike shop 1.5 miles away. I had emailed the store a couple weeks ago, and they had agreed to hold two shipping boxes for us. When we arrived, we found a large, busy shop. They had our boxes saved in the back room, and gave us all the packing materials inside as well.

Back on the road, lugging our big bike boxes. We had a short stretch on a busy, narrow highway bridge, but otherwise, the walk was pretty easy, and mostly downhill back to the apartment.

On the way, we stopped at an Action store (like a Dollar General) and bought packing tape.

By noon, we were on the terrace eating a crackers, cheese, meat, olives, pears, walnuts, and honey lunch.

By 13:00, we had finished our lunch and planned one more bike ride. We are going to cycle around Lake Varese tomorrow. It looks like there is a real path, not a highway, around the lake. It is 19 miles long. We will leave the bikes together for one more day.

This house is across the street from the one we are staying in. The house we are in is much newer and smaller. Both have incredible gardens and views.

2025 Italy, Day 75: Buguggiate, Night 1 of 3

If you would like to see details about our journey, check out our itinerary and our bike route.

Our last day on the road for this trip.

We woke up to sunshine and a brilliant blue sky. We. took our time getting packed, as check-out wasn't until 10:00 and we had only 19 miles to go.

The route was pretty, mostly on small roads and bike paths, with rolling hills, flat stretches, and a couple short steep climbs.

After an hour, we stopped at a nice cafe for cappuccini and cornetti.

After another hour, a couple bikers caught up with us at a roundabout and asked if we were Swiss, and offered suggestions for getting to Buguggiate. It turns out we are only a few miles from the Swiss border, and a lot of Swiss cycle down into this area on holiday.

It is Sunday, it is the first nice day in a week, we are in a popular cycling area, and the bikers are out in force. It is fun, it feels good, we are grateful for a nice last day of riding.

After another hour, we find a good pizza restaurant that is open, and we stop for lunch. We have lots of time. We want to soak up a little more of the Italian experience.

A half hour later, we make it to the top of our biggest climb and stop in front of the gate to our apartment in Buguggiate. As I review the check-in instructions from our host, the gate swings open and Vera greets us.

We have the most wonderful two-bedroom apartment with everything you could ask for, plus an incredible view of Monte Rosa from the terrace. And a washer. And a kitchen. And a living room. And a bathroom.

Showers, laundry, rest.

At 18:00, we hike a mile downhill to the grocery store for breakfast and lunch food, then back up the hill to a neighborhood restaurant where we have a quiet dinner with the locals.

It is late, and dark, by the time we return and tuck ourselves into bed.

A sunny day, a dedicated bike path, not too much climbing, lots of places to stop and eat. Who could ask for anything more?

From the terrace of our apartment, we have this unbelievable view of Monte Rosa (15,203 feet), in the Pennine Alps, on the Italy/Switzerland border.

2025 Italy, Day 74: Como

If you would like to see details about our journey, check out our itinerary and our bike route.

An interesting day.

The rain had continued all night and was supposed to keep on through late afternoon. We had reservations at an apartment in Como for tonight. Our original plan was to take a ferry across the lake to Menaggio and then bike down the west shore of the southwest finger of the lake to Como, about 20 miles. After our experience getting to Varenna, we had decided that was not an option because it involved being on a state highway most of the way.

Option B was to take a train, with a transfer in Monza. The train can be a little tricky with bikes, especially with a transfer, because of maneuvering the gear through underpasses and crowded platforms. But trains run every hour, so that seemed like a good alternative.

Option C was to take a ferry all the way to Como. We were a bit concerned about that because last week, thunderstorms and flooding had halted ferry service for a full day. Today, no thunderstorms were predicted, just a lot of rain. The lake was calm, and the ferries were running.

We went with Option C, bought tickets for ourselves and the bikes on the 11:07 ferry, and settled in for breakfast at a nearby cafe while the rain pelted the roof.

The ferry was packed. Despite the weather, people were out with umbrellas, plastic raincoats, sweatshirts--whatever--seeing the sights. The gate agent led us aboard first and pointed out a place to stow our bikes in the open front of the boat. We ducked inside and found a place to stand where we could keep an eye on them.

The ferry chugged across the lake to Menaggio, people got off, more got on. When a couple with seats near us stood up to go, they told us to grab their chairs, and we did. The trip to Como would take another 2.25 hours.

The ferry stopped a few more times, getting more and more crowded with noisy tour groups. After about 45 minutes, we stopped in Bellagio and almost everyone got off. A few people got on, as the wind picked up and whipped huge pellets and sheets of rain against the boat. The agent stopped the line of people getting on. Then he opened the cabin doors and shouted to the few of us remaining onboard that we had to get off. The boat was done, finished, not continuing.

Okay. We wheeled our bikes off and followed directions to go to the ticket counter for more information. I left Ken with the bikes outside and stood in line with dozens of other people. When I finally talked to an agent, he said three ferries to Como would run later, starting at 15:50; they would accept bikes; and our tickets would be honored. (Only certain ferries take bikes. Most don't.)

We chained the bikes up to a tree in the pouring rain, found a restaurant across the dock where we could see them, and settled in for lunch. After lunch, we had coffee. After coffee, we drank water. The restaurant was busy, but our server left us alone, and we stayed warm and dry for a couple hours.

At about 15:30, the rain stopped, the sun started peeking through the clouds.

At 15:50, we boarded the ferry, stowed our bikes up front, found seats at a table inside, and settled in for the two-hour journey to Como.

A couple joined us at the table. The woman took off right away, the man sat and played with his phone. The ferry got more crowded as it stopped along the way, and several times, people tried to take the empty seat at our table, but the man would not let them. About half an hour before we reached Como, the woman returned. She pulled snacks out of a backpack and offered them to Ken and me, telling us they were from her country.

She explained that she was from Saudi Arabia. The man put his phone down and started talking. And talking. Showing us pictures of his children, his wife's dead mother, his wife's dead father, in his uniform as head of security for the king, his car, his sons, his granddaughters, his brother-in-law. He talked steadily, and loudly, for the entire rest of the trip.

At first we nodded and smiled.

By the time we docked in Como, we both had a headache and just wanted to get away from the guy.

As we stood up to go, he tried to give us his telephone number so we could call him and come stay in his house in Saudi Arabia. We shook our heads and smiled and said no, thank you, and walked away.

Finally, we were on the bikes and headed up the hill to our apartment just outside of Como.

Weaving our way through the city, on clearly marked bikeways and busy cobblestone streets, we were passed by screaming police cars. As we approached a particularly busy intersection, we found a crowd of police cars, police directing traffic, and traffic stopped and snarled.

We made it past the biggest tangle, only to find our route out of town blocked by construction equipment, mud, and debris. We found our way around that, only to come up against another barrier, saying our road was closed except for residents.

We decided we were residents, even if only temporary, and went around the barrier.

The next mile was straight uphill. The water on the road was flowing downhill. It was not too heavy, but you could see how threatening it might have been a few hours earlier when it was raining hard.

Within a half hour, we had found our apartment and checked ourselves in. It was after 19:00 and getting dark.

We showered, dug into our food bag and put together a little dinner, and called it a day.

A day that had not turned out at all as planned, but exactly as it needed to.

It was raining, but the lake was calm before we boarded in the morning. Even the little taxi boats were running.

Our bikes survived their trip down Lake Como in the elements. Our seats were a little soggy, but our gear stayed dry inside the Ortlieb saddle bags.

Standing around in the rain waiting for hours gets a little old.

As we headed down the west shoreline, the lake was still calm but the clouds were building and the rain was intensifying.

By the time we docked in Como around 18:00, the sun was out and the lake was calm and lovely. About halfway up the hill to our apartment, we were able to pull off to the side of the road and look back, and appreciate the beauty of the evening. 

2025 Italy, Day 73: Varenna, Night 3 of 3

If you would like to see details about our journey, check out our itinerary and our bike route.

We had just a couple hours of cloudy dry weather in the late morning, and took advantage of it to ride back down to Varenna for fresh air and exercise. We stopped and bought deli sandwiches at the bakery, and eggs and milk and ham at the butcher shop. We went inside a couple churches, and walked around the few streets we had missed the day before.

When it started to rain, we took off back up the hill and settled in with books while the water just kept coming down.

At 19:00, we zipped up our raincoats and sloshed through puddles about a quarter mile to Ristorante Crotto di Pino, a small, family-run restaurant with a limited menu of local food. We had a good meal inside, looking out the window over the lake--which we did glimpse a few times through the clouds and sheets of water.

About twenty-five years ago, Ken and Joshua cycled from Como to Bellagio and up a mountain to get their bikes blessed. Both remembered it as fun and very bikeable. Our hope on this trip had been to cycle around the northern finger of the lake, from Varenna to Menaggio, and take the ferry back to Varenna. Even if the weather had cooperated, the traffic was too crazy to attempt that route. After all we had read about biking around Italy's lakes, we had found the reality to be frustrating, dangerous, and disappointing,

Off the bikes, we met wonderful people, ate delicious and interesting food, stayed in beautiful locations.

The rose window in the Church of Saint Giorgio on the main square in Varenna. 

Saint Giorgio Church was consecrated in 1313 and is a good example of Lombard architecture, typified by thick walls, ornamental arches, and a lack of sculpture. The inside is plain and simple, but with beautiful frescoes.

A walkway along the lake connects Varenna with Esino, where the train station and ferry terminal are located.

It's hard to see through the reflection in the window, but through the clouds and rain, you can make out Menaggio across the lake. We have tucked our soaking raincoats on the backs of our chairs and are waiting for dinner to emerge from the small kitchen at Crotto di Pino.

2025 Italy, Day 72: Varenna, Night 2 of 3

If you would like to see details about our journey, check out our itinerary and our bike route.

The forecast said 90 percent or higher chance of rain again most of today, but the sun was trying to shine through the clouds when we got up, and the radar showed that it should stay dry until midafternoon. I spent a couple hours paying bills and catching up on emails and trip details. About 11:00, we put on warm clothes (the temperature had dropped to mid-50s) and raincoats, got the bikes out of the garage, and headed downhill to town.

Varenna is a very small old city with a pretty square surrounded by churches, shops, and restaurants. Steep stone steps lead down to a riva that circles south to a villa surrounded by formal gardens, and north to a ferry port and train station. It was quiet except when a bus or ferry arrived and disgorged tourists. They clogged the narrow streets and riva, posing for photos and shopping and eating. We heard a lot of American English, which sounded strange after months of mostly Italian and German.

We visited the shops, walked along the riva, and had lunch at a hotel overlooking the lake.

By 14:30, we were back on the bikes and headed up the hill in a light rain. Perfect timing.

We did laundry, read, watched an episode of Departure on Netflix, put together a light dinner, and were in bed by 20:00.

Historians believe that Saint John the Baptist Church in Varenna was built in the early 11th century, on top of an even earlier Christian church. It is a small, plain structure, built of rough gray stone, with well-preserved 14th-century frescoes.

The main square in Varenna was quiet when we got there about 11:15. By 11:30, the crowd from the 11:07 ferry had reached the main part of town, and the streets were clogged with people. 

The ferry on its way across the lake from Menaggio.

2025 Italy, Day 71: Varenna, Night 1 of 3

If you would like to see details about our journey, check out our itinerary and our bike route.

Around 6:00, the garbage and recycling and street-cleaning crews made their rounds. We ate breakfast and drank coffee and checked the weather. Partly cloudy, no rain in sight.

Ken was feeling much better and wanted to ride. (We did have the option of taking a train.) At 8:00, we  packed up and cleaned the apartment.

At 9:00, we left the tourist tax on the table (this tax is supposed to be paid directly to the host in cash at each accommodation), tucked the keys under the umbrella stand outside the apartment door (every property has a different security system), leapfrogged our bikes and bags down the four flights of stairs, tapped the button to open the entrance door, moved our gear out into the archway, and pulled the door shut behind us.

The streets were crowded with locals walking their dogs and shopping, the markets just starting to open, delivery trucks parking and unloading, city workers taking down temporary infrastructure from the weekend celebration.

These are the routines on the days we travel. They are familiar and easy, and we miss them a little when we get home.

It took just a few minutes to coast down through the old upper city, and over half an hour to get through the new lower city and suburbs. Once we were out in the country, we had incredible views of the Prealps and Dolomiti in the distance. We skirted the southern edge of the hills up to Lecco, where we caught our first glimpse of Lake Como.

The wind was blowing hard in our faces, and the air was a little chilly, but the rain was holding off. Ken actually felt better as the day went on--a good sign, we thought. Trying to eat healthfully, we avoided restaurants and stopped at a grocery store and put together a picnic lunch with half a small roasted chicken, peach juice, and carrots. We stopped at a bench along the river on the edge of Lecco to eat it.

All was going smoothly...until it wasn't.

The first hiccup was as we left Lecco and had to make a longish detour around a flooded section of the bike path. Oh, yeah: Lake Como was overflowing with torrential rains. The city of Como had evacuated some neighborhoods yesterday, and all along the lake, we saw boats overturned, trees swimming, and parks underwater.

We found our way back onto the bike path and continued on for a while. The sun came out and chased some of the clouds away. We were feeling strong and happy, with just an hour or so of riding left.

Then the trail ended. It just stopped at a permanent barrier.

We studied our maps, the roads around us. Our RWGPS route clearly showed a bike path continuing along the lake, but our eyes clearly said it was not there. This kind of thing sometimes happens. Technology is far from perfect.

The only option was to go up onto a strada provinciale (SP; provincial highway) that we could see was roaring with traffic in both directions. From what we could tell, the SP joined up with a strada statale (SS; state highway) for a mile or so, which was even worse. Bikes can legally ride on SPs and SSs, but those roads are often dangerous. These definitely looked unsafe, but we could not see another option. It looked like we should be able to get off in a few miles, then onto a smaller highway and possibly a bike path. RWGPS, OSM Cycle, and Google Maps all showed the SP as a bike road. And everything we had read said this side of the lake was bikeable.

We headed up the on ramp for the SP and rode for a mile or so hugging the white line as close as we could. There was no shoulder. We were not comfortable.

The SP joined the SS, and the traffic got scarier.

We came to a junction where one road branched through a tunnel to the right and the other branched through a tunnel to the left.

We went left.

Wrong choice. We were on the SS.

Two very long miles later, we emerged from the tunnel completely terrified. We had managed to survive because there was a bit of a shoulder, but the traffic tore past us, with drivers blowing their horns and flashing their lights. As we had neared the end, two police cars sped by. I expected to see them parked somewhere ahead, waiting to give us a stern scolding, but there was no place for them to park and we never saw them again.

We still had over a mile to go before we could exit the highway, and barely a shoulder to ride on, but there was no other way out of this mess. So we continued, Ken ahead, me close behind.

A minute later, a vehicle pulled up next to me with blue lights flashing, and a young man leaned out the passenger window and said, "Hi." I stopped, at first thinking it was police. I quickly glanced over my shoulder and saw that he was in a bright green van with the name Anas on the door. Not police. The young man gestured ahead and said, "Keep going." So I did, still thinking he might be some kind of government official who would fine us or something. (Later, I Googled Anas and found out it is the company that manages and maintains the SS.) 

That van stayed right behind me, with the lights flashing, all the way to the exit. I was so grateful for the safety of the buffer zone it provided. I pedaled like crazy uphill, panting, hoping no one would run into the vehicle because it was going so slow, trying to catch up with Ken so he could benefit from the help.

When I finally caught Ken at the gas station on the exit, the van pulled up and stopped next to us. The young man got out and asked how we were doing.

"Alive, thanks to you. We made such a mistake and got on the wrong road."

He said, "That's okay. It happens. Don't worry. Where are you going?"

We told him. He said the bike path continued below the highway at this point. His partner, the driver of the van, showed us the stairs that led to a tunnel passing under the highway, and they helped us carry our bikes down.

We thanked them again, sincerely.

All those people who barreled past us in the tunnel, leaning on their horns, were absolutely justified. We had made a huge and very dangerous mistake. But these two men had taken a few minutes out of their day to help us, and turned a horrible situation into a better one.

Ken and I made a firm agreement to never, ever get on a highway that busy again. Ever.

Still shaking a little, we finished up our ride on bike paths, village roads, and a smaller, though still busy, highway. We struggled a little looking for our apartment in a tiny village called Pino high up above the lake a couple of miles south of Varenna. Our host had sent photos and detailed instructions, and when we finally found it, we had no trouble parking our bikes in the garage and letting ourselves into our cozy studio apartment.

After we showered, it was about 17:15. The one grocery store in Varenna closed at 18:00 and restaurants didn't open until 19:00 or 19:30. We had been lucky to avoid the rain so far, but the clouds were building and we did not want to get caught in a downpour in the dark.

So we got back on the bikes, made it to the grocery store--just a tiny market--in time, crowded inside with everyone else trying to grab food before they closed, and got enough for dinner and breakfast.

Back up the hill, bikes back in the garage, and ourselves back in the apartment before it rained. 

A long day. Lessons learned.

We thought our big adventures were over and this last week in Italy would be easy and maybe a little boring.

You never know.

Part of the bike route was on a quiet gravel path along a river. This was nice.

Part of the bike route was on a dedicated path along the lake. This was nice, too.

As we cycled from the apartment to Varenna for groceries, the clouds were moving in and the sun was sinking behind the hills across the lake.

Varenna is a small town tucked into a bay in the northern finger of Lake Como. When you are not on the state highway, it looks calm and peaceful.