#padenghe

As we head into the second half of the trip away, we had a quiet few days around Desenzano - but that didn't mean it was uneventful!

Day Six

The story of the chain gang.

Another late morning getting up, the rugrats dragging their feet as they reluctantly wandered from their beds for breakfast.

Once they had finished their coco pops, and we had eaten the baguette with loads of butter and drank our coffee, there was the walk to lake side via a new route…emerging at the front by some stalls we’d never seen before. First purchase of the day was a personalised keyring with Aibhlinn’s name on – the gentleman using ‘traditional’ methods to laser it onto the fob.

Someone wanted the bathroom, so we headed under an umbrella and ordered drinks (I’m certain with the amount of time we spent getting drinks this holiday, we could probably put bar work down on our resumes!). However, Connor also decided to order pasta despite having only just finished breakfast 15 minutes earlier!

[Something, something, teenager…something…always hungry…something…eating us out of house and home]

If he was going to have pasta…sod it! I was going to have a beer!

Some walking up and down the promenade then done, and another of our plans was hatched. Hire some bikes and head up or down the coast – where? It didn’t really matter.

As with everything this holiday, the costs seemed a bit strange, with a complex grid of bikes, times, and prices adorning the front window. Of course helmets, gloves, and insurance were all optional – and more importantly cost much more. I’d started to work out the prices shown are the suggest starting costs – not what you are actually going to pay!

The shop was closed for the midday siesta, so we had to disappear for 40 minutes – you can probably guess what we did to kill time!

Four bikes hired and we headed along the prom on the bike path – except every bloody tourist believed it was a place to walk, and we got more than one dirty look as we dinged our bells to let them know to get out of our way!

When the bike path ran out, we had a brief dalliance with the road, but soon mounted the pavement to get away from some crazy drivers and because virtually every other cyclist we met was on the pavement also.

We made it to Padenghe, just over 3 miles (and one big hill) along the coast in around 45 minutes – not Tour De France pace – but enough to feel satisfied that our first hour of the two had achieved something.

Stopping at a bar on the lake front, we ordered two bottles of water – much to the disgust of the waiter – wolfed them down, and headed back up the hill towards ‘home’.

We made it back with 15 minutes to spare, quite happy at the 6.2 miles we had covered in 30c+ heat.

At this point, I would like to reveal that there had been one or four incidents that left one of our party scratched and bruised (not me), two covered in chain oil (I was one) after the chains slipped off the gears; one bike was dropped when it should have been held onto; with Avie returning to the shop neither scratched or bruised, not covered in oil; and her bike in perfect, non-dropped working order.

Heading back to the apartment…it was time to clean up and remove the oil smeared all over my hands and arms, while Monica and Connor headed to the shop to get some stuff for dinner and the following morning’s breakfast.

I took that opportunity to open the bottle of chianti.

All cleaned up, and dinner had, we headed into town for a Saturday night out. A visit to the castle on the way down, and a few selfies taken, we eventually ended up on the lakeside [by way of a nice and expensive sweet shop] and had some beers and soft drinks.

Dangling our feet over the edge of the breakwater, we chatted about many things…and then again…about nothing in particular…while our feet dodged the spray from the more energetic waves crashing against the rocks.

As the wind picked up, and the light faded, we headed through the old town and up the hill. I had the 360 camera on a selfie stick recording our progress. I got more than a few weird looks – but I didn’t care, as I’d already been out “influenced” by a young woman next to one of the statues on the front…showing off her outfit to the phone…twirling and lifting her heel to show her shoes to the world – I simply had no answer to that! Holding the camera in front of me as I walked seemed rather boring!

Back in the apartment, showered and feeling more human…the World Cup third and fourth place play off was put on, with England racing into a 4-0 lead.

But the main highlight as midnight approached was the lightning and thunderstorm outside – and pretty much overhead. It was joined 15 minutes later by torrential rain…all awe-inspiring to sit and watch on the veranda.

Back to the football, and ‘Engerland’ were making their own heavy weather of it. 4-0 became 4-3, before a trip in the box saw a penalty awarded and Saka got his hattrick. Another goal by France made it 5-4…curiously a shot of a couple of fans wearing white England tops, waving a French flag, and celebrating the goal being scored…raised a few eyebrows and my suspicions that the stadium may not contain many genuine supporters of the teams!

A Bellingham goal in the closing seconds of the match made it 6-4 and secured England’s best placing in the world cup since 1966 – third place.

There was just time enough to poke a head out of the front door to see if the loud noises were really heavy rain or hailstones, and to briefly watch lightning still light up the sky…just not at the crazy intensity of earlier.

Climbing into bed with my mild sunburn…I contemplated what a good day it had been with the chain gang – even if it had left me covered in oil!

Day Seven

This is the first time I am writing in the morning – rather than into the early hours having gone to bed. Despite Lake Garda being a relaxing few days…

Reading this online, the above paragraph seems rather unfinished, and it was. I’d got up at around 6am to have a quiet coffee while everyone slept, and maybe put pen to paper and drop a few thoughts onto the pages of my journal. That was until…my pen ran out! Looking around, I couldn’t find another one, so had to close the notebook up and wait to buy a replacement.

I simply sipped my coffee and enjoyed the peace and quiet.

So, [hours later] carrying on my thoughts from early morning…despite Lake Garda being a relaxing few days, this last few nights have seen us staying up late, so everyone is tired and Sunday morning they all wanted a sleep in.

Once awakened, the not-so-merry band of tourists walked grumpily in the direction of the Lido. We’d found it on the map provided to us, and it was one of the highlighted attractions that had been recommended to visit.

It was a hot and gruelling trip, fraught with many challenges and dangers…no opportunities to stop on the way as we were walking through residential areas…constantly dodging fireballs thrown our way! (well actually not real fireballs…but trying to stay in the shade of the trees lining the roads rather than walk in the blazing sun).

After what seemed like 20 miles through the desert, we saw the green roof of our destination, speeding up slightly in anticipation of the shade and cold water…

Only to find it was closed.

A rather expletive laden rant, too foul to recite here, was uttered…we headed down the hill towards the lake side. Online the lido had looked so good, and may I say…so bloody open! In the real world…it looked rather sorry for itself, with temporary barriers erected around the perimeter and the grass on the sports field rather overgrown.

By the time we’d walked the 372 miles back to Desenzano, I was drenched in sweat, looked like I’d been swimming in my clothes, and red like a lobster. The bar we’d been to a few days earlier with the 80’s music, came into sight and a cold Guinness went someway to healing the wounded spirits. Although, they weren’t playing 80’s music this time…so we didn’t sing along!

Leaving the bar, another pair of shorts were bought…and some extra pens…and it was lunchtime. The lasagne went down well as I tried to cool down more in the shade.

Somehow, by the time we’d finished lunch it was after 4pm…and we made our way back to the air con in our Airbnb…the kids also taking the opportunity to grab their phones and probably doom-scroll on socials. Monica picked up her Kindle to read.

Me? I stood in front of the air con with it turned down to as low as it would go!

With a trip to Venice planned for the next day, and the World Cup final on at 9pm, we decided to stay in this evening to start our packing, do some washing of clothes, cook a nice family dinner, and then watch the football.

Dinner had, the bottle of chianti finished, we settled down to watch the game – supporting Spain, as the Argentinians really hadn’t deserved to get past Egypt.

Completely one sided, the Spanish had come to play and the South Americans simply to spoil. The team in red eventually lifting the trophy – but I’m really not sure why it took 120 minutes to score the one goal.

At the same time, some competitive ‘steps completed today’ comparisons were being thrown around, and I found myself pacing the living room to get my 10,000 in – I was around 190 short as the awful half time show ran its course.

It was an easy number to do, and my watch buzzed to congratulate me as Shakira performed her two minutes of song and dance on stage.

We wanted to see the trophy lifted, and then it was time to set the alarms on our phones for what was going to be an early wake up.

About The Author

Mark is the current reigning world record holder at throwing cheesecake, with a PB of 228.6 meters. His athletic career now over a decade behind him, he turned to writing about his experiences in the alternative Olympics and became a Times best seller, recounting tales from behind the scenes of the competitive world of baking and then throwing puddings.

The claims become more outrageous, and like previous days…they are totally untrue. I actually wish this one was real! In reality, I am a photojournalist that specialises in sport and news coverage within the UK and Ireland.