Day 13 - Tarquinia, Italy

272K - 167 Miles

Woke up the roosters this morning. Things are back to normal. Unfortunately can't ride. Fog is laying on the ground about as thick as I've ever seen it. So I did a little blog updating and posting, and worked on today's itenary.

Took me three hours to go 88 kilometers this morning. Can you believe it? It was GREAT!! Set the GPS for no toll roads (that'll take care of the slab), and told it "I don't want no stinking ferries (there are none on this route...but Mr. Garmin is not to be trusted). Where am I going? I'm going to where they did an end run around the mess that was Monte Cassino...Anzio. Another example of economic theory at work. If Eisenhower had the best generals working on Torch (the invasion of France), then one shouldn't be totally surprised at the cluster f**k that was Monte Cassino and Anzio.   Between Generals Mark Clark and  John Lucas, it's an absolute wonder that Anzio and the resulting capture of Roma came off at all.  Lucas for his absolutely stupid insistence that he delay attacking until consolidating his beachhead (on a beach, in a bowl, surrounded by mountainous country...you don't stay, you move out), and Clark for throwing away the opportunity to entrap Kesselring's army by redirecting Truscot to Roma instead of following the battle plan agreed to with Alexander.  Lucas was relieved (eventually), but Mark Clark proved to be much more capable politically than he was militarily.  He ended the war with full honors.

But, as is usually the case with American troops once turned loose, they adapted, overcame, kicked ass...and got off that damned beach and in the German's faces. In the final analysis, that's what won it all. That and a supply arm that could use cargo space to transport Christmas fruitcake to troopers on the front lines. I'll bet they even liked it. First time in recorded history that has occurred.

Man, the guys who hit that beach wouldn't recognize it now. Naturally, close to Rome, it didn't take much for the post-war developing upper middle class to take over this place. And they've done a good job. It's, as they say in Tennessee, "all growed up.". You can see the escarpment that had our guys stuck on the beaches. It couldn't have been a pleasant thought to realize you had to go against crack German troops with bunches of 88s, but those guns made the beaches even more untenable. Again, as with Pickett's troops at Gettysburg, Foch's at the Somme, or, later, Bradeley's on Omaha, I just don't know how they took the first step.

The beginning.  Just outside of Pontecorvo.

I don't know the name of this little town, but I just kept climbing, and climbing until I finally reached it.  It had a couple of my least favorite things in it: hairpin right turns which crest the hill at the start of the turn then drop off precipitously, giving you the inside lane when you can't see if any traffic is coming or not.  Don't like 'em.  Not even a little.

But, it was a pretty little village.

Nice road, or what?

I believe I found where Marcellus was training Spartacus (Kirk Douglas) as a gladiator.

Pretty sure this is the spot.  It's east and north of Rome a little.  Perfect place to prepare for the arena.

(Wish I'd have found Jean Simmons.)

This is looking across the escarpment toward Anzio beach.

Looking north along the beach.

We've still got some of the beachhead.

If those are grapes planted in the rows among the headstones, and as I know G.I.s, they come out at night and make a little wine, have a smoke, tell a lie or two.

Good on 'yer, lads.  Thanks!








Continued north out of Anzio, skirting Fiumicino airport and Roma, and making for Civitavecchia.  Passed through there with too much daylight remaining, plus feeling good on the ride, so I kept going until I reached Tarquinia, a very old Italian city with lots of medieval, and older, ruins.

When I parked Betsy here the lady living in the apartment behind the shutters opened them and gave me a nasty look, I guess, for bringing that noisy bike into the neighborhood.












Then her neighbor, directly behind me opened her shutters.  We smiled, and I snapped a picture of her.  She didn't want me to, but seemed such a nice lady.

Here in Tarquinia I found this old 1940s looking hotel with a restaurant that just had a great feel about the ambience and the food.  It was called the All'Olivo.  I was really looking forward to it.  My suspicions were confirmed when I entered the restaurant upstairs open area dining room fifteen minutes after they opened to find it packed.  And seemingly, all with locals.  I didn't get to eat there because, after waiting 45 minutes for one of the only two waiters they had to take my order I left.  They were tremendously understaffed for the crowd they had there.

In any event, I think the place worth stopping at if you want a nostalgic retro-1940s thing in a hotel (they actually had an old snooker table in the "salon,") and what I think would be a wonderful authentic Italian dinner.