Our next port of call is in the Veneto countryside just south of Vicenza. Although only an hour & a half away by the shortest route, this would require joining the main east/west artery of Northern Italy, the A4 autostrade, and I did not fancy the hassle of that. I’m on holiday!! So I decided to head in the opposite direction.

I thought to cross the lake on the car ferry from Maderno to Torri del Benaco, head up the east bank to Rovereto. From there, to snake south through the mountains to Schio and on to Vicenza -a trip of around 4 hours. Boy, it was worth it….always take the long road and remember – it’s the journey that counts!

19€ is the cost of the roll-on/off ferry across the lake.

The journey takes 30 minutes on a vessel that would not be out of place in the Calmac fleet operating between the Scottish islands. It clanked & shuddered us across with the ramped front creating a hissing surf & the open car deck allowing the bursting sun to shine down on the righteous.

Once across, the route runs up right beside the lake with only a narrow strip of sharp stones & rough rocks separating it and the road. No grand mansions, extensive gardens or private estates hiding the lake from the hoi polloi, here. On this stretch, hotels & villas squeeze into any spare space on the land side and vehicles fit snugly into any verges against the lakeside cliffs.

From both, folk struggle over with their beach equipment like a games of Beach Crackerjack. The only way to survive the challenge of the lake ‘beach’ is to sit/lie on your own sun lounger to raise you above the surface of the shrapnel below.

The dedicated beach creature unloads said sun loungers, deck chairs, lilos, hampers, flippers, snorkels, towels, umbrellas which, somehow, they are able to erect in the rocky terrain. Wind-surfers soar above in the mountain air.

As the top of Lake Garda narrows, the peaks & crags tighten their grip on the landscape and squeezes it until it oozes out into wide meadowed valleys. The route then enters the ridged spine of the mountains, snaking up cavernous passes and down crag-strides in sharp-sided canyons & around pointed, ghoul-friendly peaks finding isolated , ancient, settlements or the occasional field of harvested grass.

After several hours of invigorating driving, hard but rewarding, we emerge in the soft hills of Veneto.

Desenzano del Garda was the last place to visit on the southern shore of Lake Garda and, like all the rest except Sirmione, it was quiet, peaceful, almost empty of life. The scorching heat had cremated any living body and scattered their ashes over sun-blasted streets & furniture.

A memorable part of the stay were the many places we found to eat. There were two along the modern front in Salo.

The first menu balanced lake fish & meat – in the end I declined the donkey casserole (bit heavy for a hot, sultry evening).

The second was a handsome pizzeria.

One evening we ate in amongst the vines.

A ‘carne’ restaurant that served no fish was a godsend to those with a seafood allergy.

We shared our last meal with a coach load of German tourists next to asmall funfair; the saving grace was a bottle of excellent red and an exceptionally tasty apple turnover.

So it’s a return to my beloved Italy and, for the first week, chilling it in the hills overlooking Lake Garda itself. Up here, a gentle breeze whispers across the skin, reminding you where you are and to let the eyes & ears do all the work.

Salo is a small lakeside town that epitomises the classic Italian Lakes tour. June is the time of year to indulge yourself & come away to the lakeshore where coniferred hill ranges contour down to a sharp edged line around the clear waters. There are few crowds, eating & drinking is easy with no need to book & Garda’s ferries provide easy access around the ancient towns & villages that dip their quayside toes into the clear, fish-strewn waters.

Main problem has been to find dinner this evening. Having looked at menus up and down the front, this is it:

Now to decide between braised donkey (!!!) or lake sardines. I’ll let you know.

I’ll let Salo show off its character, accompanied by the few visitors that have slipped the cordon and arrived on foot, bicycle, car or boat.