Out of Rome

Getting out of Rome to its sea front port was miserable. First up and down through the towns, and all around. This far out, there was only one set of bridges over the Tiber. The first one involved hauling bikes up onto a grated 18" wide catwalk. We walked across, avoiding scary looking bolts and the gapped flooring. The second bridge at least was shorter, and we decided to gun it across. Made it alive and with all our requisite parts.

We almost stopped at Kilometer 20, at the first possible campsite. There was some misery that was making us falter. Instead, the cold of the day and the threatening future-possible weather made us press on. The duned coastal road finally made the riding easy, as the wind was blocked. Apparently, we put away 20 kms in 45 mins — which is great for our fat bums. We rode until we couldn't any further, as Matty was all snotty. Gross enough for us to hit a hotel in the drizzle, and deal with a bus load of french pre-teens.