Venice

On 14th September I arrived in Venice.  Although long since a novelty, sailing into Venice at sunrise is still a spine-tingling pleasure for me.  My short sea cruise, and the attendant thirty-six hours of freedom from all responsibility which it had provided, was reaching its conclusion.  Before me lay the prospect of driving away from Venice, on unfamiliar and far busier roads than those to which I am accustomed, and finding somewhere to settle.
I drove off the ferry and onto Mussolini's 'Ponte Littorio' which, since 1933, has been the only road link over the lagoon between Venice and the mainland.  Heading west towards Milan, I passed by many interesting towns and cities worthy of my time; Padua, Vicenza, Verona, Mantua.
Because I decided, on this occasion, to ignore the undoubted charms of these places I was at Milan far earlier than I had expected so chose to press on further.  Beyond Turin the motorway runs through more scenic country than hitherto and it began to rise towards the Alps.  By late afternoon I had reached the entrance to the tunnel that would take me through the mountain and bring me, within half an hour, into France.