The next day I depart again in search of mountains, following the possible routes taken by the monks hundreds years ago. After being immersed in the nature of the Apennines between Tuscany and Emilia Romagna, I am propelled to Pisa and the Alps named Apuane. “Nuda” and “Prato” mountains flank Garfagnana where, due to mud and puddles traps, my ride turns in to theatre of adventurous trapeze artist manoeuvres. The rain never stops chasing me and heavy downpours alternate with moments of quiet. The arrival in Pisa finds me exhausted and soaked to the bone. I park the scooter and retire to a hostel for a refreshing shower where, after one hour, I pass out in bed. At dawn, a surprise awaited me. The lock that protected the second fuel tank of the Vespa had been cut and the container removed from the Vespa platform. On the ground, I find the steel ring lock. Annoyed and vexed by this latest complication I snub Pisa and its wonders. Saving time and shots for me. I immerse myself, to forget, in the “Metalliferous Hills” and then fly to the East.