Warning! Due to circumstances which befell me during this period, this blog may have a lot of scatalogical references.

We knew were were going away to spend a weekend in a hotel, and so spent a quiet day or two in Volterra after the white night in Vicopisano, just eating at home and in the lovely traditional restaurant La Carabaccia.

The next day, I went out for a morning walk, and managed to catch the beginnings of a classic car rally leaving from Piazza dei Priori. It was a lively affair, and there were plenty of vehicles and their proud, gabbling owners knocking about quite early in the morning. I took some shots… some artsy!

There seems to be some sort of early-morning vehicular activity in the square at least once a month. Mostly it’s cars – which might be brand-restricted, other times it’s motorbikes.. and on a couple of occasions in the last few years, mountain biking urban course championships have been held here, as well as the beginning of one of the routes of the Gira d’Italia.

That afternoon, we had bruschettone in Porgi l’Altra Pancia and a gelato from L’Isola del Gusto.

Later that evening, we went to one of our faves: La Vecchia Lira for dinner.

Finally, we hit what was to me the more looked-forward to part of the year: to spend two nights away from Volterra, somewhere else along the coast: a holiday within a holiday. We booked the improbably-named Mercure Argentario Hotel Filippo II on Monte Argentario. It wasn’t too expensive, had a pool, and was reasonably well located, but took a small car journey into the nearby coastal town town of Porto Santo Stefano.

Monte Argentario itself is effectively an island, joined to the mainland by two curving land-bridges and one actual bridge bisecting a manmade lagoon.

There’s Monte Argentario above, courtesy of Apple Maps.

A friend of ours was thinking of spending some time in Castiglione della Pescaia, and so we thought we’d join her for half a day, and give her a lift there. So, that was some unexpected fun! We got up at sparrowfart, drove via Cecina down the main vein of the Tuscan coast – the E80. We parked in our usual spot, and then saw our friend into her lovely Air BnB, before hitting Bango Perla.

The restaurant at Bagno Perla serves reasonable food, and we left happy. We’d usually head back to the beach for a dip and a rest before we’d head home, but this time we had a different destination.

We changed, and drove on entirely new roads to Monte Argentario. We even saw a little bit of Grosseto itself (the capital of this particular province), having to skirt around its train station and shaggy suburbs.

Our excitement grew as our distance to the coast lessened, and was palpable when we were crossing the northernmost landbridge onto the ‘island itself’. I love coastal scenes generally, and the ones here were no exception – people lying on rocky beaches or scurrying across the road to or from their accommodation. The air itself changes, and more stone pines can be seen, which always reminds us of the coast.

We finally reached the entrance to the spiraling road that led up to the hotel. It was over worrying narrow bridge, that was less than fun to cross back over unsighted onto the main road. Parking was handy enough, and we checked-in.

It turns out we were given something of a suite. A huge living-room/kitchen area, a big bedroom and bathroom and a large terrace to boot. All fully, and blessedly, air-conditioned. We were well-impressed!

We had a look over the terrace walls onto the Mediterranean and thought we’d landed in paradise. We rested for a little while, as we’d been going since the early morning (I can never truly ‘rest’ at the beach).

Later on, we took the car into the town to grab some dinner. It’s so cute on the way in.

It took us a little while to find a parking spot, and we eventually resorted to parking in Piazza Facchinette, which was essentially carpark, which only seems to charge daily rates – so go elsewhere if you’re on any kind of budget, or have a modicum of pride. Niamh and I were burdened by neither!

We walked along the promenade. It’s a noisy place. I didn’t mind it as much as Niamh, being a bit of a city boy and all. We found three restaurants in a row, settling for the first one: Osteria La Terrazza di Mataloni Riccardo.

We sat outside, so we could look at the promenade and the bay. What we should have copped on to was that we were right beside a busy road. Again, I didn’t mind too much, but it was terribly noisy. Anyway, despite the location, the food was actually pretty decent, with the standout being Niamh’s pasta dish.

Rain came down quite heavily after a while. The couple near us on the other corner, and the couple behind us to my right had to be moved due to the leaky gaps in the parasols that hung over the tables. A spatter or two came near us, but somehow our corner wasn’t as bad as the other areas.

When done, we wandered up towards the end of the commercial part of the promenade and back again towards the car.

We drove back to the hotel, used the terrace to gaze about and went to bed, which was the end of night number one here.

The next morning, we got up, had breakfast, wore out the views from our terrace.

Our plan today was to drive anti-clockwise around the island, and make stops in Porto Ercole and Orbetello. I love to drive, but Niamh would often rather I didn’t, whereas I trust pretty much anyone inherently who drives me anywhere. So, it’s easier for the pair of us if Niamh drives. I still drive – usually from the destination back to Volterra, so I do get my chance. Anyway, it was Niamh who drove, so I got a smattering of a chance to take photos and film footage – more on the latter in another blog, but if you’re intrepid enough, you can find it in youtube.

Niamh negotiated her way left off the narrow bridge that led away from the hotel, towards Porto Santo Stefano. Missus Google took us through the backstreets, which were interesting little neighbourhoods in their own right, but not necessarily worth a separate visit. However, I certainly regret not stopping at the towns major tourist attraction: the Fortezza Spagnola. At least we’ll have something to come back for.

It took us on a loop, then, back to the promenade and we did one of my favourite things: a coastal drive. They’re not often easy to do in Italy, as either the most serviceable roads are a couple of hundred meters away from the sea, or train tracks are between the road and the sea, affording rail ticket holders better views. But when it happens, it’s glorious! And it was glorious, for maybe the first third of the journey, especially along the Via Panoramica and (to lesser extent) the Via dei Pionieri. Then something happens. Tuscany happens, to be precise. There is an instant where the road turns from freshly laid asphalt, to dusty grey and cracked asphalt and nearly halves in width, and then with a lousy 3km to go ’til you reach Porto Ercole, it turns into a strada biancha and narrow even more – see more below the pics. The best thing about the first part of the road, is that there are frequent enough places you can pull into and admire the view.

I took more video footage than photos. And we only stopped once or twice, as we had our eye on the clock. In reality, though, we had a lorry-load of time and needn’t have worried, even when what was about to befall us befell us.

We enjoyed much of the trek, even when the road became narrower, torn and pitted asphalt. It wasn’t until we hit the the strada bianca (white road), just 3km away from Porto Ercole, we said “no”. There had been some rain in the week leading up to our holiday – and rain the previous night, and the white road was in pieces. There was a large central hill with chopped-up tracks. We were mindful we were in a non-4×4 rental vehicle and instead performed a 15-point turn and then spent another 15-20 minutes driving back the way we came. The road, I’ve just learned while writing this, does have its normal days and only goes for about 1.5km before becoming broken asphalt again, and then back to normal road. Oh well.

Anyway, we took a slightly inland road that rises and dips and took us back to Porto Santo Stefano. We blew through that, and went clockwise this time and hit Porto Ercole a little while later. It really is a shame that about half the road is wonderful, and the other half is awful. You should be able to circle the mountain in a normal car – but it is what it is.

We parked here, and walked 3 or so minutes to the bay. What can I say? Maybe it was the time of year, or maybe it just is the place it is, but we loved the vibe in Porto Ercole – to wit: it was quiet. Much quieter than Porto Santo Stefano. There were only a few places open along the promenade, which we walked, but we didn’t mind. In the distance, on the other side of the bay, there was an old-town part to it, which we didn’t explore. It was getting hot out, and we were more inclined to feed our bellies than work our legs.

We passed by several groups of young ladies, most of whom were devouring gelato – so, sheep that we are, we had to join them. We stopped at Botania for some creamy goodness and bench-sitting, and both were pretty good – recommended if you’re in the area. A little while, we decided to look for somewhere for lunch. One of the best-scoring places seemed to have been getting ready for service on the inside of the restaurant, but when I queried they said they weren’t open until the evening. Please update your opening times on Google, please, restaurateurs. Grumbling, we walked back to the car, and drove at speed towards Orbetello. Shame, because the menu looked nice. All said, Porto Ercole – we will be back some day.

We drove back towards Porto Santo Stefano, but took the left instead towards Orbetello. There aren’t many towns on the coast with a medieval feel to them, but Orbetello is one of them. We parked on the eastern end of the (frankly) phallic peninsula (I almost spelled that incorrectly), here.

Our primary focus was food – we’d explore a bit afterwards. We made a b-line towards the centre of town, admiring some of the streets along the way. It was so quiet, but we found one of the better reviewed places, run mom & pop style, which usually impresses in Italy anyway – Ristorante Bistrò Ale da Pasquale e Marcella.

I enjoyed my outsized clams and pasta, but occasionally had to spit out a bit of shell. We engaged with a couple of the local ladies outside while we were paying and they were surprised to hear that we were from Ireland. We said goodbye and I had not a care in the world, and so we walked through the town snapping some of the prettiness.

We’d had a full day in the heat and needed a rest. We did so back at the hotel, but when it was time to get up for dinner, we didn’t really feel like going back out again, so we thought we’d dine in the hotel. After tidying ourselves up, we went to reception and asked how we could get some aperitivi. She walked out from behind the reception desk and over to the bar, which couldn’t have been more than three meters wide, and poured us each a decent enough Aperol spritz and gave us a little bowl of mini-pretzel crispy things.

She suggested we could head down to the restaurant when we were ready – she didn’t think a booking was needed. When down there, we got a little bit of a stank-face from the lady at the door, who wasn’t totally impressed that we didn’t book.

In the dining area outside, there was nobody but us and a family of five. We took up 20% of the seating, and it remained that way until the end of our meal. We were still fullish from lunch, and so only we only had the one course… one savoury course… ok, we had two courses, if you include dessert (not pictured).

One last look around the bay from the terrace…

And then to bed! And apologies for what’s about to happen!

Next morning, we had some breakfast, and everything was fine. We’d mostly packed the previous night (force of habit), and had breakfast. It wasn’t until we were about to check out that, to coin an expression, I began to feel pressure from the rear. I rushed to do what I had to do and didn’t think much of it – perhaps just expunging the excesses of my recent couple of days.

I still didn’t think anything of it, until we started to approach the town I wanted to visit on the way home: Talamone. It’s not too far from Monte Argentario, and is a lovely little seaside village – definitely give it a visit if you’re not suffering from explosive diarrhea. I was beginning to feel extreme pressure again. There is tons of parking to be found here, and it’s only a short walk to the walls surrounding the raised town. Except I didn’t make it that far initially.

I ran across the road to Bar Il Porto, and while Niamh purchased drinks so I didn’t look like I was poop-mooching, I RAN to the bathroom behind – it was sort of an adjoined outhouse. I had to wait for a bit, giving my sphincter the workout of its life. The occupant came out a minute later and I might have broken the sound barrier as I rushed in to take his place. It was another mess, and I knew something was wrong with me. I only had the pleasure of evacuation for maybe 4 minutes before a poor woman (whom I really wanted to murder afterwards) knocked on the door to get in. I had to relinquish my throne, and scurried over to Niamh and had a drink.

We were at the bar five minutes downing our drinks, and then headed up through the Porta Garibaldi, up the steps and walked about the cute place. Moments later, I knew I had to go again. Thankfully, the town was providing many distractions.

I skipped the gelateria, instead opting to go down another set of steps to the admire the boats on display in the man-made marina. I was desperate to use the bathroom again, so I took another trip to Bar Il Porto and relieved myself posteriorly. I didn’t know how I was going to make it home – we had two hours to go in the car.

I spied several garages along the way for obviously accessible bathrooms, without having to ask for their whereabouts or a key – but no joy. I broke out into a sweat, and there it was – some sort of food poisoning that had led to stomach issues. However, I made it – against all odds – as Niamh powered us home. She stopped at the Piazza dei Martiri in Volterra, so I could scramble out with my case, and walk briskly to the apartment. How I didn’t (excuse me) shit myself royally on the stairs up I’ll never know, but I reached the apartment, shakily unlocked the doors (which I left completely open), dropped my case and bolted for the loo, where I remained for many minutes.

And so this was me for the next few days, which was unfortunate. Actually, this reminds me of the time my brother had visited us earlier in the year – something which I had forgotten. The water went in the apartment, including in the bathroom, and it took a couple of days to sort it. Nasty, nasty stuff!

I’m amazed you made it this far – but thank you! Drop a comment or question for me!