Isola Madre
L went for a run inside the enormous campsite, as the security gates will not open until 0730, too late for our schedule. She tried to run on grass or concrete to avoid waking the sleeping hordes in vans and tents. Coughed endlessly as pollen blew in a fierce breeze.
By 0915 we were ready for the bus to the ferry port to take us to Isola Madre, one of the famous Borromean islands on Maggiore. Reception suggested that instead of the bus, we take the child-friendly road train that picks campers up to take them into town. We agreed. It was a rollicking ride, first of the day. Cost us twice as much as the bus!
A number of jolly German couples got on board, laughing like drains, and soon we were dropped off at a street market somewhere near the port. No signposts to help, in Italy everyone assumes you know where to go. The tourist office told us where to find the ferry ticket office and we bought our round trip tickets. It was not where Reception had told us, with full confidence.
L purchased some sweet pastries from a stall. The large boat arrived, and set off in something north of a force 6, with big white waves rolling across the deep blue of the lake, below densely wooded green of hills and brown of roofs.
There was so much surf on the hull we could see rainbows flash through the picture windows.
The journey to Stresa was beautiful but the next few stops were breathtaking, seen from the boat in passing. They were the other Borromean islands.
We don't have time for all of them them, so we chose to go to Isola Madre, a small island described by Gustave Flaubert as the most voluptuous place in the world.
As we left the boat and climbed steep stone stairs, the scent of exotic blossom rose in the heat. There were banana palms, cypress, and strange-flowering protea from New Zealand. It was an assault on the senses. So many stone paths, high stairs, new vistas and everywhere a slice of cerulean sea.
The gale force winds whipped branches, leaves, hair and hats. We had a coffee on a terrace which cost 2 euros pp extra for the view. Worth every cent.
The rest of the day spooled out slowly in sun and shade, walking and resting. We ate our sandwiches on a bench overlooking the water, and later had a welcome gelato at another viewpoint.
As Nic rested in the shade of a gigantic Kashmir cypress, L ventured towards an aviary.
We had been told there were unusual peacocks. She spotted one of them, strutting his stuff to an unimpressed peahen.
The stately home was plain from the outside but a cornucopia of weird delights inside.
They included numerous backdrops and stagings for a huge puppet theatre from the 19th century, plus intricate papiermache puppets of every kind including demons from hell.
The return boat was very late, which meant standing in the sun in a queue for far too long. But the journey is gorgeous. The weather has been almost unbelievably beautiful, with sky and water of the clearest blue and green carpeted hills everywhere.
We feel very lucky to have seen this place at its best. Maggiore rules.
The long ferry ride back was equally dazzling with the lower angle of sun bringing everything into sharper relief. The ferry was 15 mins late, but we still made the no.15 bus back to the campsite - the tourist train had long gone to bed. After a superb but tiring day there was nothing for it but another takeaway pizza at €10 a throw - delicious zzz.
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