Volts, Vino, and V-Twins: A Throttle-Twisting Trek through Tuscany
Dates covered: 19.17.25 to 21.07.25
A slightly cheeky tale of twisties, tiny towns, and tasty tucker.
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Day 10 – 19.07.25: From Castiglione di Pepoli to Diacceto – Twisties, Toasties, and a Ghost Town Supermarket
The morning kicked off with an efficient-as-anything brekkie situation that any caffeine-loving biker would dream of. Three flights of stairs down, hang a right, and boom — you’re in the bar. No muckin’ about. A hot shot of Italian coffee punched me square in the brain (in the best way), and a panini or two gave us the required energy to throw a leg over the bike and hit the road.
The destination for the day? Diacceto.
Never heard of it? Yeah, neither had we. And honestly, that’s probably fair. It’s one of those places where even the supermarket said “nah, I’m out” and bailed. Not even a dodgy little corner shop to flog you overpriced bananas and toothpaste.
But — and it’s a big but — Diacceto’s got two redeeming features:
1. It’s up in the mountains, so it’s not as hot as Satan’s armpit.
2. It’s as quiet as a librarian with laryngitis.
And oh baby, the roads to get there? Absolute ripper. Proper motorcycle paradise. Curvy bits of blacktop winding through hills and forests, with a backdrop so stunning you’d think you’d accidentally ridden into a postcard.
One of the highlights was the Cevellino Pass, a well-known haunt for two-wheeled speed junkies. Being a Saturday, it was packed tighter than a servo sausage roll warmer. Honestly, it looked like someone yelled “Free beer!” at a biker rally — absolute swarm of bikes.
We pulled up, grabbed some lunch (a casual Coke and a sandwich — we keep it classy), and just sat back soaking it all in: the fresh mountain air, the melodic hum of engines, and the kind of views that make you say, “Yeah, this is why we do it.”
After 200 klicks of twisties and scenic delights, we landed in Diacceto and had the whole bloody house to ourselves. Spacious, quiet, and perfect for some well-earned rest.
Only catch? No shops. Nearest decent supermarket was 10 kays away, but that’s just another excuse to go for a little ride, right? We stocked up like we were prepping for the end of days: cheese, salami, gnocchi, fresh fruit, veggies, and of course — vino. Wouldn’t be Italy without a bottle of red to finish the day.
Tomorrow? Rest day. Sundays in Italy are madness on the roads — like the entire population of Rome and Florence decides to go find the same mountain picnic spot. No thanks. The bikes are having a sleep-in, and so are we.
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Day 11 – 20.07.25: Diacceto – Wet Socks and Lazy Vibes
Right, so not a whole lot to report today. In the spirit of keeping it honest: we did bugger all. And it was glorious.
No riding, no sightseeing, just enjoying the peaceful stillness of a place that seems to have pressed pause on time. Except for the rain, of course — that came in heavy in the evening. The kind of downpour that makes you glad you’re not on the bike, wet socks squelching in your boots, trying not to hydroplane off a cliff.
We just sat back with our snacks and sipped some wine, watching the storm roll in and thinking about all the poor sods still out on the road. You know the feeling — when you see a rain cloud and realise your waterproofs are neatly packed… in the bottom of your pannier.
Rest days like this? Bloody essential. Your body, your brain, and your backside all say thank you.
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Day 12 – 21.07.25: Diacceto to Volterra – Into the Touristy Trenches
After yesterday’s chill sesh, we were keen to get back on the road. But first — breakfast. We had to do something with all that food we panic-bought. A bit of a fridge-clearing buffet later, we geared up and rolled out at 09:30.
And just like that, our quiet mountain escape came to a screeching halt.
This was the day we hit the tourist trail. The route took us right past Florence, through Chianti wine country, and past the well-known medieval postcard towns of San Gimignano and Volterra.
Sounds romantic, right? Yeah, until you factor in the hordes of people, bumper-to-bumper traffic, and the fact that your riding gear turns into a portable sauna in 35°C heat. It’s hard to appreciate the “ancient beauty of Tuscany” when you’re stuck behind a coach bus full of sweaty tourists and your left glove is half-melted to the clutch lever.
We thought about stopping for a wander in one of the towns, but one look at the queues, the heat radiating off the cobblestones, and the families in matching “Italia 2025” shirts, and we noped out of there faster than you can say gelato. Sightseeing? Maybe in May. Right now? Nah mate.
We rolled into Volterra around 1 PM and thought, “Right, this’ll do.” Found a decent hotel with secure bike parking. Sweet. But then we hit a snag — check-in wasn’t till 3 PM, and we had to do a ten-minute uphill hike (in full gear!) to the main reception. You ever tried hiking in armoured pants? It’s like walking through a sauna in a wetsuit.
So yeah — we kept moving.
About 10 kays down the road in Saline di Volterra, the moto gods smiled upon us. We stumbled across a gem of a place — instant check-in, roofed parking for the bike, and a dinner that could make a grown biker weep. Gnocchi that melted in your mouth, cheese that made you question your life choices, and another glorious bottle of Chianti to wash it all down.
Today’s ride? 170 km of mostly primo roads — a few traffic jams here and there, but nothing we couldn’t scoot around. And the scenery, even with the heat and the crowds, was still full of “holy heck” moments.
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Reflections from the Road
This stretch of the journey was a classic mix of what makes a European motorcycle tour unforgettable — stunning twisties through mountains, hidden villages where time stands still, and the occasional slap in the face from peak season tourist madness.
What really stood out? The contrast. From the almost spooky silence of Diacceto to the full sensory overload of Volterra and its surrounds, you’re reminded how wild and diverse riding in Italy can be.
And honestly, after grinding through the hustle and bustle of Tuscany’s hotspots, we were seriously grateful for that little ghost town in the hills with no supermarket and all the peace in the world.
Rest days, dodgy weather, tourist crowds, and tight twisties — it’s all part of the ride.
Because at the end of the day, whether you’re sipping wine in a thunderstorm or filtering through traffic behind a dozen campervans, the view from a motorcycle helmet is still the best damn view there is.
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Coming up next: we continue rolling south, dodging crowds, chasing shade, and hunting down more of Italy’s finest roads — and maybe another bottle (or two) of red.
Stay tuned, throttle fiends. The journey ain’t over yet. 🍷🏍️🇮🇹
#dustysocks
It’s really enjoyable to read and thank you for sharing your great trip 👍🥰