This was the kind of day I wanted for every day of this trip. Things just went my way. It started with the convenient fact that my B&B in San Quirico is not staffed on-site. The B&B has a shared kitchen/eating space, but the host has left yogurt and makings for coffee in the fridge, and said when I checked in that he would bring bread at 7:30. But it occurred to me: why wait? With cereal and yogurt available, I could start my day extra early to get the jump on the walk and beat, or at least limit the exposure to, the heat.

I was the only person staying, so I didn’t have to worry about bothering anyone with my 7am quick breakfast. I was out the door by 7:15, with the temperature in the mid-60s. This felt amazing. And the hike, though it has a ton of down followed by some rough up, is only 8.5 miles, which seemed very manageable. You can see the excitement on my face.

The town was very still, and I was quickly on the road descending the hill in gorgeous morning light.

Even the first bits of uphill couldn’t lower my spirits.

I don’t want to suggest that the miles just flew by, but the walking was good, the temperature was just rising into the 70s, and I felt inspired to take photos, always a good sign for me on a walk.

The morning was nicely punctuated with what I’d call intermediate goals. After a few miles of walking mostly down, but with still a lot of down to go, I spotted this notable building in the distance. I could tell by the maps that I’d be passing very close to it, so that was something to aim for.

Along the way down, the walk kept offering up various kinds of beauty.

I achieved that tower (it wasn’t right on the path, but pretty close) and continued descending with occasional surges of up as I wove my way through the landscape.

Eventually, after a few surprising muddy spots (the first I can recall on the whole trip) and more ambling through woods and fields and occasionally past a farmhouse, I reached a little river crossing. I knew this was the lowest I would go, and from here on it was mostly some degree of up. But I was in goods spirits, and it was only something like 9:30.

Right after the river, I began the rise, passing a farm with a rather odd flag.

Yes, it’s four Native Americans in headband with feather, divided by a red cross. Don’t ask me.

Now the climb was getting serious.

But at least there were vineyards to look at along the way.

And after more ascending (that makes it sound so mild!) my destination, the town of Castelnuovo dell’Abate, came into view.

I got to the end of the gravel and dirt road for this very very small town (two restaurants from what I could tell, no stores other than a place selling cheese and meats). My lodging was an agriturismo, which means they were real farmers but also do business either serving meals, offering wine-tasting, or doing B&B. This place was clearly most focused on the wine tasting part. I got there around noon, and fortunately a man was just getting to his truck when I walked into the yard. I asked, with all my inept lack of Italian, “Agriturismo la Pallazetta?”

“Yes. My mother.” he replied and pointed to one of the series of connected buildings. His mother, who clearly is responsible for all aspects of the B&B business, speaks less English than I speak Italian, which is saying something, but we worked out with some hand gestures and slow saying of names who I was and what I wanted. She offered me a chance to sit and drink water in the wine tasting room. I gratefully accepted.

And then she showed me to my room, which was really more like an apartment, but one not feeling much used. It had a little kitchen, which for some reason had an extra bed in it, a bathroom I will describe as rustic (to flush the toilet, I had to turn the valve to fill the water tank on the wall, something it took me a good while to work out), but a lovely bedroom.

This place might have had WiFi, but I never figured it out, and I dreaded trying to find the very sweet hostess and go through some pantomime for “WiFi password,” so, given the slow loading time for the internet, it was an afternoon to nap. There was an air conditioning unit up on the wall, but if there was a remote, I’m damned if I know where, so I napped with the shutters closed to ward of the afternoon heat. I was tired, but feeling very pleased with myself.

Eventually, the time came for dinner. Restaurants in most of Italy seem to run on the model that 7pm is the earliest any sane person would want to eat, and that’s mostly the foreigners. But I was hungry, damn it, so there I was at 7pm on the dot. The very charming young waiter was very attentive and forgiving of my bad pronunciation as I ordered steak tartare and pork ravioli with pork ragu. It was, as you can see, amazing.

And finally, this lovely day offered me one last treat. The handsome young waiter came to see if I wanted dessert. I declined. And then, just as I could see over his shoulder an older woman (the proprietress? his mother? both?) coming toward us, he asked, almost shyly, “Excuse me, but you are…. actor?” The woman showed up at this instant, and while I sat, no doubt looking modest and bemused, they discussed my face and, if I am getting the gestures and discrete pointing right, ‘something around the eyes.’

Just who, I wondered, might they think I am? Around the eyes? My dazzling Paul Newman blue eyes? Nope, my eyes aren’t that blue. Did something in my quiet solo dining suggest George Clooney? Nope, because c’mon. Was it some less flattering actor they were thinking of? Late-era Orson Welles? Charles Durning? But of course, since he was basically asking if I was someone now famous, it had to be someone current. I am baffled.

I politely demurred. “No, no.” And I smiled in what I hoped was a modest and enigmatic way that suggested ‘well, maybe I am that famous person you’re thinking of, but please allow me my privacy.’ I paid my bill and left them with the tantalizing possibility that Matt Damon had just dropped in for dinner. It was Matt they were thinking of, right?

That’s a good day.