Overlanding Italy was nothing like we expected. Through our travels we have traverse Italy many times but this time wasn’t just a road trip; it was a full-on blown sensory symphony. Our adventure started with a boat. Not the romantic gondola type, but a good old ferry that delivered us from the dusty vibes of Tunisia straight onto the shores of Sicily.
Plan? None. Direction? North… eventually. Mission? Let the road unravel the rest.
Twisting through cliff-hugging curves, switchbacking up passes, and rolling across ancient cobblestones Italy hit us with every flavour and every view it had. Palermo, our first landing spot, didn’t just welcome us, it blasted us with its chaotic charm. This city doesn’t whisper; it screams in the best way possible. It’s gritty and golden, noisy and nostalgic.
Picture scooters weaving through narrow lanes, sardines sizzling on open grills, church bells chiming in sync with a street performer singing out 80s Italian love songs, and all that before you even had your first coffee.
But first thing first before we jump into our exploration we needed to short out our mechanical hiccup: Voukefalas decided to fry our secondary battery circuit breaker. Classic overlanding drama that proved impossible to solve in Tunisia. Quick fix here in Italy and accompanied with a bit of cursing, and we were back on track. What next? Visiting worlds oldest and biggest catacomb downtown Palermo. Next and still in a bit of a shock straight into the sensory overload that Palermo’s Ballarò Market offers. Imagine a place where everything is for sale and nothing is quiet. This is where we tasted our first Arancini, ,dangerously tasty cooked stuffed rice fritters, where Rochelle almost sparked an international incident asking for lemon on hers. The vendor’s response? “LEMON ON ARANCINI?!?!” That man’s passion made Rochelle reconsider!!.From then and for the next two days Palermo was hitting us with a jaw dropping experience in every single corner. It was hard to drive off after all that, leaving with a feeling that we missed out on something.
Winding down our Palermo chapter (reluctantly), we took to the skies—well, not us but the cable car did—and glided up to Erice. This Foggy, mystical, and straight out of a medieval fever dream town got us by surplice. Think moss-covered stones, winding alleys, and picture perfect views. Our Erice experience was toped up with our overpriced choice for a Granita al Limone and an espresso at a hilltop café grounding us to European traveling reality. Overpriced ?Yes !!!! Would we fall for it again? Probably. Lesson learned: always check the menu before ordering anything with a view of a castle.
Moving southward bound, and after some minor overnights by the sea, we cruised into Syracuse, our target, the heart-melting Ortigia Island. If Sicily was flirting with us, Ortigia sealed the deal. Baroque beauty, glowing piazzas, waterfront cafés, and ancient Greek ruins just chilling by the roadside like it’s no big deal. Even in rainy weather the turquoise waters beneath the limestone cliffs looked almost Photoshopped. If I am not mistaken that day still holds the record in walking distance per day in our trips while exploring. So much so that I had to buy a pair of new shoes as my Nike air just gave up causing me to have a flat tyre( air sole) in one of them.
Next stop: Catania—and here we talk about perfect timing. We arrived smack in the middle of its annual marathon. No traffic. No honking. Just runners, music, food stalls, and a whole city breathing freely. We strolled, snacked, and let Catania surprise us with its laid-back, festival vibe.
Final stop and while craving some downtime, after this non stop exploring marathon around Sicily brought us in Naxos a small town close to the glamorous Taormina . After spending the kind of beach days that demand zero decisions and a big Laundry reset as the main activity we were back on track! From here, we made the pilgrimage to Taormina, Sicily’s glamorous goddess. Ancient Greek theatre? Check. Dramatic Etna views? Oh yes. Bougainvillea-draped alleyways and overpriced Spritzes? Naturally. Taormina had it all and more. And just when we were about to say Sicily was completed in our final night, Mt. Etna decided to say farewell by giving us the perfect send-off show with the ages—lava glowing red against a starry sky. No tour groups, no noise just us and the mountain. A moment etched in memory.
Eventually, we left our southern cocoon, jumped on a ferry to mainland Italy and gave Amalfi Coast a second chance. If you remember the first time was a soggy messy—rainy experience chasing us away . So we decided to circle navigate back, and drove straight to Salerno, determined to catch some coastal sunshine. Did we? Kind of. The skies teased us—sunshine one minute, drama the next.
Our base in Agerola’s San Lazzaro was a misty, mountain-hugged haven. We dropped down into Amalfi, where scooters ruled and every alley begged for a camera. Then on a boat to Positano—the town that glitters like a jewellery box and smells like lemons and sea spray. Fancy restaurant food, limoncello, glam, and… surprise! Rain again. Wandering the glistening cobbled streets under a downpour might sound romantic, but let’s just say soggy shoes tell a different story. We took the hint. Amalfi: we love you, but maybe you’re better in small sunnier doses.
Soaking wet and semi-defeated, we pointed north. Quick touristy pitstop in Pisa ,did the obligatory leaning selfie and moved on, but it was Lucca that wrapped us up in its Renaissance charm. We walked the city walls, drank wine in sleepy piazzas, and lingered way longer than we planned.
And then—boom—the Dolomites. This was Italy showing off. Alpine peaks that punch the sky, lakes like mirrors, and trails that made our legs cry happy tears. Tre Cime di Lavaredo? Epic. Lago di Braies? Straight-up magic. We hiked, camped, stared at stars, and let the silence of the mountains wash everything else away. Sicily gave us soul. The north gave us awe.
From grilled Arancini battles in Palermo to fire-lit skies over Etna, from rainy Amalfi make-ups to crisp alpine mornings—this trip was a full-spectrum ride through the madness and majesty that is Italy.
Pro tip for fellow road roamers? Take it slow. Laugh when it rains (because it will). Eat the carbs, chase the views, and roll with whatever wild beauty the road throws at you. Italy isn’t a checklist—it’s a story waiting to be told at 40 km/h with crumbs on your shirt and wonder in your rearview.
If the Italy leg of this journey was all dolce vita and volcanic drama, this next chapter shifted gears into alpine vibes, medieval daydreams, and just the right amount of wurst(Sausages (Rochelle’s addiction)). Buckle up this is our winding ride from Innsbruck to Hamburg, with Bavaria’s Romantische Straße serving as our glittering, cobblestoned catwalk.
After rolling into Innsbruck, Austria’s alpine showstopper, we immediately felt underdressed. Snow-draped peaks towered above rainbow coloured townhouses, and everything looked like it had been specially manicured. With no intention to stay in Austria we pushed onwards crossing into Germany, and hit the legendary Romantic Road. Now, normally anything branded “romantic” gives us mild allergic reactions as most of the so called romantic are half fake ,half overrated kind off, but this route? Total exception!!! This was a medieval road trip through a time machine. Füssen greeted us first, home of Neuschwanstein Castle—aka the castle Disney straight-up copied. Even though that we visited in the mist, it oozed drama. It perched on the cliff like it was auditioning for Game of Thrones. We hiked, we stared, we agreed no hotel view would ever compare to this and moved on.
Then the road took us on a royal tour through a lineup of towns that all felt like they’d been designed by fairytale architects. Donauwörth, riverfront charm, colourful buildings, and pretzels so good we considered a detour just to eat them again. Harburg, a tiny town, massive castle and an excellent local dinner option. Nördlingen: Oh yes, this one was special . You can actually walk the full circle of the city along its old city walls. It was weird. It was wonderful. Then there was Rothenburg ob der Tauber: Timber-framed houses so cute it hurts, narrow cobbled alleys, and more window shutters than sense. We wandered aimlessly, ate too many sausages and apple strudel, and took a lot of photos. Finally Würzburg: Fancy, wine-soaked, and positively regal. After days of dust and diesel, we strolled into this city like disheveled nobles, and pretended we belonged there.Even our Camper stop on the riverbed watching the city from a distance made up for it and more.
From all that medieval majesty, we leapt forward into green and modern Hannover, which—surprise!—was a total palate cleanser.
After quick visit to a castle that Rochelle found on the map and an overnight by a small lake we stretched our legs shopping around town, took deep, unhurried breaths, and moved on. And then came Hamburg—Germany’s moody, magnificent rebel. If Berlin is the punk-rock capital, Hamburg is its artsy, port-city cousin with a dark side and a big heart. We rolled into town and fell head first into the industrial fairytale. Here things did not go as planned! There was not a single place to camp that was not full from German campers on a long weekend holiday that was rebooked a while ago so for us that we just drove up to camps there was just a straight “ Do you have a reservation? No sorry we are full” In a true overland magic and after a night in a Camper stop off a small village somewhere outside Hamburg ,our friends and fellow Overlanders came to the rescue. “The Outfits”, friends from Australia that overland the world with their truck were rebuilding the trucks engine in a near by town and invited us over for a couple of days in their rented AirBnB, What a coincidence!!!We have not seen Chris and Ange since our Australia trip almost 4 years ago. Another special reason was to meet Oakley (the new member of the family) !!
Two days of catching up and lots of stories later and we were on our way to Denmark .We had no big plans for this country nothing more than a transit stop before we board the ferry to Faroe and Iceland but we were pleasantly suprised.
Spend two nights in its fairytale capital Copenhagen and got to experience the Wugee (dank way of appreciating life). Unnecessary to say that we pay a visit to Queen Mary’s palace (she was not there).Sort explanation story: Queen Mary is originally from Australia and met the Denmark king and future husband in a bar that Rochelle use to hang out in Sidney.
Sorry Rochelle that I have no royal back round! As an end to this part of the journey, it was time to point the compass north and head to Hirtshals . Iceland was calling, the horizon smelled like sea spray, and the ferry panic for Faroe was creeping back in. But that’s for another chapter.
