It’s my turn. I get to describe the two days walking to and over the Apennines. I want to let you know what it is like being feet and carrying a 200 pound fellow to the Passo della Cisa.

Before the first day begins, I hear concerned chattering up in the brain. Bardone to Berceto is 13 miles, from approximately 400 meters to 900 meters and then back to 800. Sandy Browns guidebook states “one of the hardest sections on the entire pilgrimage.” Then, there is the 17.5 miles tomorrow. The kicker there is that 1270 meters ascent (4100 feet) and 1830 (6000 feet) meters descent. Good reason for the upstairs control center to be anxious!

Knowing that it will be a rough day, the stomach gets a green light to fill-up. Juice, two yogurts, granola cereal, two cups of coffee. Just enough fuel without feeling bloated. Socks on and my Keen walking shoes laced, I’m out the door at 8:30 AM. Bright and sunny. Nice.

In a few minutes I’m passed by a cyclist. He is in low-gear peddling hard.

In an hour, I’m in Terenzo. I can tell the brain upstairs is still trying to figure out if his last nights “reserved” BnB is in this town. I stop outside the church. The control center pauses to say a prayer. He wants me to wander around the small, church cemetery. Okay. I’ll humor him even though we have miles to go.

Past Terenzo’s last buildings, the trail gets “interesting,” or “hard” in other words. All uphill.

Also, for some reason, somebody decided to cover the trail with small, uneven rocks. Despite the Keen’s good soles, the bottoms of these feet are going to feel tender if this keeps up for long. Unfortunately, it does. Just before I’m about to have a serious talk with upstairs, the trail changes. I’m still going uphill, but the trail becomes softer from the surrounding forest. Hallelujah!

But, but, but. I find myself walking in mud from all the recent rain. Then the brain upstairs screws up.

When a 2-3 inch mini-pond covers the whole trail, with a wire fence stretching down one side of the trail making it unwalkable, he makes me try to walk on the other slippery side. What happens? You guessed it. All of a sudden I’m getting washed, except that I still have my shoes and socks on. Oh well! Squeesh. Squeesh. Squeesh. Upward and onward I go.

About now, another part of this guy’s body starts to send messages. Two hours of uphill means the pulse rate hits the 130’s. The brain at least had the smarts to buy an iWatch which shows his pulse. He also has the smarts to only walk when his pulse gets back to 100. Smart, but making for very slow pace. Walk 50 feet, rest. Walk 50 feet, rest. Thank God for hiking poles! Those leg muscles right above me are able to get considerable help from the arm muscles. The leg muscles push and lift, the arm muscles pull and steady.

The trail finally levels out. More than simply focused on breathing and finishing the uphill section, the guy upstairs starts noticing the surroundings. Flowers. Local art. And, because the Via Francigena takes you past people’s “backyards” old mowers, plastic chairs, sheds filled with who-knows-what. I can tell the mouth up-above wants to apologize to these folks for seeing their clutter from living.

After all these hours, I’m finally going downhill! The eyes upstairs have their first peek of Berceto. Nice!

Then I hear the brain upstairs “Oh, d—-, what’s this red tape and a sign with a slash through a walker doing in front of me?” “You’ve got to be kidding me!” It takes less than 30 seconds for control center to decide to walk around the barrier. “Ah, there’s the problem, parts of the trail are falling off the cliff. Not good.” Undeterred, I keep us moving. Plenty of trail still left.

I enter Berceto. All of a sudden, I can tell that the brain thinks that it is in Cornwall, England. Arthur’s Excalibur.

I can tell control center is getting a bit giddy reaching the nights destination. It thinks that it can tell the arm muscles to pull Excalibur from the rock, and the muscles will! Get a grip control center!

I’ve made it the BnB. My dear host takes a look at me, and the rest of the attached body. I can tell she is thinking “You look like a mess.” When she offers to wash all the clothes, I can hear the upstairs control center say “Thank you. Thank you, thank you.”

What a day! So much for the ancient writer who says “I will keep your feet from slipping.” Or, maybe he means something else just as important with those words. Whatever the words mean, I also found some extra help along the way. The writer has words for that also.