It’s only a few miles of dual carriageway before we climb the sinuous but wide and smooth road to the start of the Mont Blanc tunnel. The cashier looks up at Mary*Lou’s roof and comes out to measure our height with a pole. We are under 3m high so we get charged Class 2 €60.40.
We are given our receipt and a tag with the do’s and don’ts of driving safely through the 11.7 km long underground passage. The barrier rises and we plunge into the base of the highest mountain in the Alps. Traffic is spaced out and monitored along the two way route. In addition to the overhead lights the ‘waistbands’ are lit with orange markers which are supplemented with blue distance guides to keep vehicles at least 150m apart. Deep in the tunnel the temperature rises by 4C. Driving at just under the 70kph limit it is over 10 minutes before we emerge on the Italian side of what is now Monte Bianco.
We pull into the car park and are shortly joined by Nick + Grete. Everyone is awestruck by the view.
Behind us the towering mountain, capped with white. Dirty glacial ice clings to the sides of the steep rock. Over the ravine a chapel, Santuario de Notre Dame de Guerison is perched beside a steep track. White water cascades down a boulder strewn channel, what looks like a tiny stream is actually spewing hundreds of tonnes a minute from the small hydroelectric station above the chapel.
Away to our left the Aosta valley spreads out like a geography lesson, a deep and wide glacial valley with mountains forming interlocking spurs as they fade from dark green near ones to hazy purple distant ones. Little clusters of buildings and two main roads flank the valley floor.
It’s time to get moving so we exit the car park and descend to the intersection of the Autostrada. Snoopy tells us if we took the A5 Toll we would reach Ivrea in just over two hours, but we are keeping to the adjacent SS26 which is predicted to take over twice as long.
But the ‘Tortoise Strada’ ,as Nick names it along the way, proves to be a lovely drive. Much of it is limited to 50kph [30mph] and hardly any is above 70kph/43mph] meaning the drivers can enjoy the scenery a much as the passengers. There are many small towns to pass through, woody valleys, plains at the feet of arid escarpments and vineyards arranged on terraces of pergola like structures creating the impression of pigeon holes. A few promontories are topped with castles or forts.
Often we are beside the milky green river, foaming where as it tumbles over boulders and weirs.
We stop frequently to take in the scenes. At Bard we stop by the river to look at Napoleon’s mighty fortress rising in terraces from the river bank.
Just outside Ivrea we find the camperstop but typically for Italian pay points it needs a diploma in the unexpected. Card doesn’t work; put in cash of a note and two coins but the price goes up; press cancel and receive the correct refund but all in coins. Look for alternative parking.
There is a small aire in the centre of Ivrea which we expect will be full but we will try anyway.
After the gentle trundling of today Ivrea centre is like First Night at the Colosseum. Tea time traffic is busy and impatient, lane markings are faded and roundabouts are not for stopping. Then comes the old cobbled centre, rutted, undulating and uneven, totally unsympathetic to Mary*Lou’s soft and bouncy rear springs. It’s like Biscay in a Mirror dinghy surrounded by whale sharks.
During one of the times gravity returns us to our seats we see the entrance to the aire and are relieved to see only three of its ten spaces are occupied. We park and pour a beer.
Ali is heading for the nearby river but the Italian campers stop her and offer her tea, Darjeelng, while they practice a little English.
A huge French van comes and takes two spaces and before long its driver and the Italian are chatting like best mates. Mme calls hm for ‘mange’ but he carries on chatting, beers all round.
Their chatter gets louder and more animated as the French beer lake is consumed then at 22:00 all goes quiet.
We are abed and asleep shortly after.
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