[Day 1: Rome | Day 2: Rome to Sabaudia | Day 3: Sabaudia]
Friday is the sunny day as evidenced by the light streaming in from my window. B'fast and down to the lake. Start off with a "ladies VIII" filled out by three men in the bows, me being three. The traditional two trips down the lake and back, somewhat uncomfortable because for one reason or another the balance was poor. On the few occasions that will reminded us to sit back at the finish and rock over it went sat for ten strokes or so, but it didn't last.
As yesterday, at lunchtime I went for a run, Keith helpfully offering me an orange he had cadged from breakfast, I must remember to do that tomorrow. Along the beach again, only this time in the sun, and then go off an explore the tower. It turns out to be private, somewhat to my surprise, but the considerable wall can be turned and I do, taking moderate care not to be more obviously visible than a man in a fluorescent green tee shirt has to be. There's an abandoned house with the roof falling in, then a closer also abandoned but not in total disrepair house, then the tower which has is non-beach-facing side covered in scaffolding. Behind, a terrace and so on and an abandoned swimming pool. In all, a gloriously situated place sadly in need of care and attention and money.
Since I have time, so up the track and try following the "yellow" path so see where it leads. It heads straight up like the "red" one, but only for 500 m or so, and then gentles and starts curving round right towards the ridge, which it intersects. So you get views, back to the lake and out to sea; and then at about 250 m there's a little summit, where I pass two people; and then at 430 m the "true" forepeak which you see from the main peak, where a party of three are having some tea. I go on a little past them for a better view of Monte Circeo. From this side the extensive cliffs that separate me from it are clear. It is all quite limestoney, pleasantly vegetated, and at this time of year a pleasing temperature, and the plants are soft rather than spiky. Decide that this is a nicer path than the red route to the true top.
And so down, via the same route. Then its the run back along the beach, the intrinsic pleasantness of which can't disguise the fact that I'm really quite tired by the time I stop at 16 km. Meet Brian running out about 1 km before I stop. And so, back to the rowing club in time for a five or perhaps ten minute rest and drink and banana (thanks James) before I need to start rowing.
Afternoon outing: now down at bow, with an odd-handled blade and where the feet are a little odd: there's very little slack in the heel restraints, but decide not to fix that as it will encourage me not to extend forwards. The outing is much better sat than this morning so I'm much happier; I'm mostly trying to survive and perhaps that helps. Warm up in sixes, some finish exercises, some starts and then some pieces.
Wend my weary way back towards the hotel for a well earned shower (discovery: the reason my shower produces only dribbles is the head, which is adjustable, duh) and collapse before dinner.
A Stome Pine apparently, says Amy.