LARGO LAGO

It’s what we call stand-still days.  After a week on the road we like to stop, no driving, no planning, no timetable or commitments.  Plus it’s a rare event for us to use a campsite, but Camping Covelo is a pleasant place to be.
The thunder and rain in the night have cleared away the haze and the morning sun lights up the mountains on the far shore.  Squadrons of ducks are prowling around the vans looking for breakfast crumbs.  When the boxer dog steps out of a nearby van they scramble back towards the water causing a chap sitting on the edge to duck himself and cover his head.
At lunchtime we go to the site restaurant for a meal, which we enjoy sitting out in sunshine.  The lake is smooth and the colours are bright.  Away in the distance is a series of horizons formed by more and more distant ranges of mountain peaks of the Alps or Dolomites, we try guessing the distance to the furthest: 20, 40 80 miles?  We just don’t know, but the ridges fade from high definition of the island of Monte Isola in the middle of the lake, to shadowed ranges to wispy splashes like a watercolour wash.  Whatever the facts, it’s an enchanting and mesmerising scene.
After lunch we wander into town and linger on the waterside promenade.  It’s our third time at Iseo but its charm never dwindles.  The scum-ball and bas relief colouring of the plaster-work, Garibaldi’s statue and fountain, flower pots, cafes and ice cream shops, always with the lake and surrounding mountains in view.

We sit in a shady square with granites [gra-neet-as] frozen drinks bought from a nearby gelateria then go to the ferry station to check the routes across the lake.
Later we find the supermarket and buy milk and a few other bits.  Opposite the supermarket 9 or 10 moho’s are parked in what must be a camperstop.  Normally we would be fine in such a place but on this occasion we would concede the view from the campsite is worth paying for.
We wander back to Covelo and have a beer at the lakeside, just the sloshing of water and the chatter of the ducks to listen to.
In the evening we all go to the restaurant again.  We have reserved an outside table but the evening is cooling rapidly.  When we go through the indoor bit and onto the terrace the big patio heaters actually make it warmer outside.  Our main courses are followed by tiramisu with limoncello.  Nick fails to notice the flaming sugar cube and burns his finger on it turning the plate around.  But a slightly charred pinkie cannot spoil the beautiful sunset, twinkling lights all over the hillsides, romantic Italian crooning music from the bar and comforting fullness of a delicious meal.