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.
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It was raining, but the lake was calm before we boarded in the morning. Even the little taxi boats were running.
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| Standing around in the rain waiting for hours gets a little old. |
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| As we headed down the west shoreline, the lake was still calm but the clouds were building and the rain was intensifying. |
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| 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. |
