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. 


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. 

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.

 So much surf on the hull we could see rainbows flash through the picture windows.



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