We stopped for elevenses at a café showing World Super Bikes, where I had a ridiculously over the top Swiss roll thing with cream, jam, Nutella, chocolate chips and hundreds and thousands.
In the afternoon, the sat-nav took us on an elevated single-track road alongside a river. We were a little concerned that it might be a cycle path, but it was lovely nonetheless.
We'd hoped to stay in Verona, but there was a festival (I suspect there generally is). The streets and squares were packed, the shops and bars too busy to sell me an ice cream. It took us an hour to find the Tourist Information Centre, which was closed, and we concluded that we hadn't much hope of locating a hotel with a vacancy before dark.
We enjoyed the glimpse we got of the river and the amphitheatre. Another time, perhaps. Now, our plans changed yet again, we found our way out of the city and into the cooler air around Lake Garda.
Most of the traffic was travelling in the opposite direction, heading home from their weekends at the lake, but a little filtering was required before we arrived in our revised destination.
We had stayed in Garda before, and we made for the same hotel, but their prices were higher than we remembered. We went instead to the Hotel Cortina, where I'd spotted two German bikers unpacking their luggage as we rode past.
We selected one of the many waterfront restaurants and ate with lights twinkling out on the lake and a man performing a phonetic rendition of 'Hotel California' on the keyboard.
It was late by the time we finished, and businesses were closing for the night. Without much hope I walked into a bar where two young women were stacking chairs and cleaning the counter.
"It is possible...an ice cream?" I asked.
"Un cono? To take away? Which flavour?" they smiled.
So at a quarter past ten at night, I finally got my ice cream.
(It was a lemon one.)