A Little Stress…24 Hours of Travel Torture (1)
One of the less charming features of the Assisi hostel was the lock-out from 9:30am through 4:00pm – that meant that although we didn’t need to leave for the train station until nearly 11:00am we were forced to sit outside of the Ostello de Pace for a couple of hours warming up in the morning sunlight until it was time to catch the public bus to the train station. This bus was the first of the eight legs of our never ending travel day.
One of the reasons I am so glad that we chose to use only 52 litre packs is the fact that we have often hiked up hills and seven flights of Indian winding staircases with these things on our backs…too much heavier and we simply wouldn’t survive! The front packs weigh us down but we are ditching these in the future…as you will see after this 24 hour period, it’s a good thing we can haul ass with our packs on!
The hike to the bus to the train
Leaving the hostel to make it to the bus station was a brief but intense uphill climb on a narrow road with cars winging around corners at high speeds. We caught the bus and it thankfully dropped us off right in front of the train station. From there it was a small train ride up a few towns to the larger train station in Folignio before taking the several hour ride out of the Umbrian countryside and to the coastal town of Ancona –our departure point for the ferry across the Adriatic and into Split, Croatia. At this point we have three legs of the journey down –walking to the bus and the bus to the train and the train to Ancona.
The train to the bus to the cab
He's having a hard day too!
The train ride was, naturally really picturesque and we were all dedicated employees and put in several solid hours of our internet-based work as we sped toward the coast. Arriving at the train station in Ancona we were a bit lost…so how do we get to the ferry terminal? The LP was, sadly, no help in this matter so Helen and I whipped out our Italian skills to enquire about the correct bus number to take us to the docks.
We spotted an internet café directly across from the train station and all voted to get some work posted, post a blog, and generally take care of internet business since we had no idea if we’d have much internet access for the six days we planned to spend in a small rented cottage on the island of Brać.
With the internet out of the way we boarded bus 21 and fervently hoped that we were headed in the right direction. Lucky for us, the bus dropped us off directly at the ticket counter for Blue Line Ferries. As we looked around we realized that the ticket offices are nowhere near the actual ferries themselves…so, confused we eagerly watched the other ticket holders walk outside and stand in a line for cab that does the short five minute ride to the docks.
It was exhausting out there I tell ya.
All has been going fairly well up until this point in our travel day. We make a nearly fatal mistake. Instead of promptly getting into the cab queue we decide to grab dinner and take the cab over to the docks closer to the time that our ferry is scheduled to leave. As we saunter down the stairs to the taxi area we realize the line has grown quite large…and one of the two cabbies that runs this circuit is actually off for the rest of the evening.
We urgently flag down the cabbie as he comes back to pick up the next load but, since we weren’t first, he gestures another couple into the cab –we show him our tickets and he gives us a deep frown…we are cutting it majorly close and he’s going to try his best to make it back in time for us to catch the ferry. Those next 10-11 minutes ticked by in agonizing slowness and a young Canadian backpacker joins our group – he’s also catching the 8:20 ferry to Split…and he is also perilously close to missing the ferry.
As minutes tick by and Jenn nervously checks her watch (the only working watch right now) the cab speeds up to the curb the cabbie literally grabs our backpacks, hurriedly shoves them into the trunk and motions us three into the cab. As we’re cramming ourselves into the cab a man and his four year old son start a heated argument with the cabbie –he’s on the 8:20 ferry as well! The man and the child take the front seat and Helen, Jenn, and I aren’t willing to leave a man behind though so we squish together, Jenn jumps onto my lap and the Canadian guy squeezes himself into the car with the cab door closing with a dull thud as it squeezes our bodies all the closer. The cabbie floors it and we race away toward the docks with our hearts racing and an intense fear that our boat will leave without us.
Read Part Two: 24 Hours of Travel Torture in Croatia
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