Adriatica ’17: A Bicycle Journey Through Italy (August 2017)
August 6th: From Como to Cremona – Fields of Green and Whispers of Experimentation
Yesterday’s 128km ride from Como to Cremona was a journey through the heart of the Po Valley. I have to admit, the “bassa” (the lowlands between Lombardy and Emilia) isn’t as boring as they say. Sure, it’s mostly flat, cultivated land, but it has its own distinct charm. Tractors working the fields, villages with evocative names like “Scannabue” (which literally means “ox slaughterer,” yum!), meat processing plants, and rivers full of emerald water flowing gently by. There were also some rather unsettling cornfields with “Pioneer” signs and “Experimental” written below, the surveillance of which dissuaded me from taking photos. A pity! The only real downside was the suffocating heat that sapped my strength, but I’m almost used to that by now. Today’s destination is Modena, and if the heat gives me a break, I might even try a detour to Bologna.
Note: I took a photo of a road sign for San Daniele Po and commented, “The only saint I worship,” playing on the San Daniele prosciutto and the word “Po” sounding like “porco” (pig), making it a vaguely blasphemous association with a saint.
Note: A little further on, I commented on a photo of the Po River, “The God Po… of Lega Nord memory.” Here, “God Po…” with the ellipsis implies a strong expletive, especially against the Northern League voters, whom I find utterly disgusting with their religious identity politics for racist ends.
August 7th: Lombardy and Emilia Romagna – Postcard Landscapes and Culinary Delights
Yesterday’s 107km ride through the countryside of Lombardy and Emilia Romagna was truly beautiful. Cultivated fields and agricultural villages where time seems to move slower, more in tune with nature. This part of Emilia has a myriad of tiny provincial roads winding through the fields, almost devoid of cars. I’ve seen many agricultural landscapes, but Italy is beautiful even in this: unlike other countries, everything looks like a postcard, everything exudes beauty. In a way, I’m glad I started this trip now, after seeing 16 other countries on two wheels, because we often take our own country for granted and don’t realize how beautiful it is. The contrast is extraordinary. And the fact that the food is amazing is not a stereotypical Italian legend, it’s absolutely true! Especially here in Emilia! Yesterday, I could have reached Bologna; I was only 36km away and in Modena at 5 pm. But more than the heat, a violent thunderstorm forced me to seek shelter. I’m not sure about today; I’d like to get as close to Rimini as possible.
Bologna! From here, I could take the ancient Roman military road that connected Bononia and Florentia through the Apennines, known as the “Via degli Dei” (Road of the Gods), used for the rapid movement of troops. But having never really seen much of the Adriatic coast, I’m taking advantage of this opportunity. I’ve brought my swimsuit and towel!
August 8th: Rimini – A Feast for the Senses and a Tribute to Culinary Genius
Today, making up for lost kilometers, I pushed on for a 160km ride to Rimini! At my signal, distract the vegans and let’s devour the fishmongers, cheese factories, and delicatessens of Emilia and Romagna! I saw many things and took some photos, but one stands out as emblematic. Not the moon over the beach umbrellas, not the platter of cured meats and mozzarella, not the various cathedrals: it’s the statue of Pellegrino Artusi at the entrance of Forlimpopoli. He was born there, and it doesn’t surprise me at all that he was Romagnolo. He is the Dante Alighieri of Italian cuisine, he wrote a cookbook drawing on the traditions of various regions that is the true bible and the foundation of our cuisine. And he lived to be 91, just to counter with anecdotes the delirious vegan theories based on just as many anecdotes (my couuuusin is a raw vegan and feels great), contrary to all experience, data, and scientific study. I recommend the recipe for pigeons in broth in the aforementioned cookbook!
Yesterday, I did a 160km push to Rimini! In these first three days, I’ve been pushing myself like crazy, almost 400km! And now I’m riding along the coast before facing the Apennines. Today, only about 100km to Ancona.
In front of a photo of a pier on a beach, I commented: “Okay, I’ll pitch my tent and stay here!”
In the evening, in front of a photo of an intense red moon over the beach of Rimini, I commented: “The moon is red, tonight the Vegans will attack,” referring to a famous line from the cartoon Goldrake.
August 10th: Pescara – A Brush with Disaster and the Joys of the Adriatic Coast
In these past few days, I’ve racked up the kilometers, reaching Pescara. Almost halfway according to the original route, but riding along the coast is giving me enormous satisfaction! In fact, I’ve decided to continue to Bari and not take the Apennines from Vasto. This way, if I have time, I can also take a look at the Gargano National Park. It adds about 100km, but when will I get another chance? From Bari, I’ll go down towards Taranto and do the Ionian coast of Basilicata, then cut across Calabria towards Paola and from there to Sicily. Unfortunately, today, due to a shamefully dilapidated bike path, to avoid a hole, my right knee went to war with a wall at about 28km/h, and the wall won. The impact caused a contracture in my chest muscles, and to top it all off, while accompanying the bike to the ground, I torpedoed my left knee (fortunately, it didn’t scrape, just bumped, but relatively mildly). I immediately rinsed, treated, and medicated the large scrape with hydrogen peroxide, betadine, and powerful invocations to every known deity, from Vishnu to Quetzalcoatl. Obviously, pedaling on it isn’t ideal, and after 30km of bleeding bandages and rib pain, I stopped 40km short of my goal to let the knee heal. Excellent strategy, as it stopped bleeding, I made a more suitable bandage, and the chest muscles magically calmed down. Whoever designs and maintains bike paths in Italy must be related to Roberto Parodia. This is the third time, and like a fool, I keep going back to them, but I’m getting quite tired of getting scraped up because of other people’s incompetence. In these days, I’ve seen sunrises over the sea, followed the coastlines, eaten fish, met a Greek cyclist returning to Athens and Paolo Livieri, a cyclist near Senigallia who helped me get off the SS16 state road to follow the sea! I faced some nice ups and downs near Ancona, I saw the national-popular seaside Italy of old. And I found the Romagna Riviera formula, especially in Rimini, to be spot-on: ultra-modern facilities and unbeatable hospitality. Oh yes, of course, I gorged myself on gnocco, tigelle, piade, arrosticini (400g), and Ascoli olives. Italy is a cycling paradise (crappy bike paths aside). Tomorrow, if the knee hardware allows, about 100km to Termoli.
Note: What happened was much worse. I cracked my ribs and destroyed my knee in the bicycle fall and hurt myself very badly. I had to stop in Pescara to bandage my knee and try to fix it, but the pain was unbearable, and I think I damaged a meniscus. I decided to continue anyway, enduring the pain and hoping that pedaling would help, but I was afraid I wouldn’t make it.
August 11th: Termoli – Vastness and Temporal Distortions
Passing through Vasto, I took photos of the road sign and commented: “Admire how vast is the…,” implied: “…the heck I care.” A phrase cited as an inner joke of Italian pop culture, referring to the destruction of my still-bleeding knee.
And today, sticking to the plan, I reached Termoli. My knee was swollen and sore when I woke up, but what better cure than the rotary motion of the pedal to promote circulation and drainage of the bruised blood? Apart from that (and convincing my knee with curses and prayers to cooperate), it was one of those days that puts you at peace with the world, with gentle ups and downs by the sea and landscapes less like a tourist Riviera and more rugged. Still no trace of Molise, not a sign indicating the end of Abruzzo, and strange phenomena of space-time distortion: the distance to Foggia is 118km at one roundabout and 107 at the next. Termoli must be a mental projection created by me and passed on to my phone’s camera.
August 12th: Termoli and the Gargano – A Stormy Escape
When I said to distract the vegans and at my signal empty the Mediterranean… I didn’t mean literally! (Note: photo of mussels, fish, and seafood eaten the night before). Termoli is truly lovely! Today was a bit suspenseful. I set off from Termoli with my knee still sore, aiming for the Gargano, at least wanting to see the Umbra Forest. But about 15km after Termoli, I saw dark, dense, and menacing clouds enveloping the Gargano mountains. Considering that if my knee gave out up there in bad weather, I’d be in serious trouble, I decided to veer southeast, skirting the Gargano from the inland to avoid the storm. And I rode, I rode hard! By 3 pm, I’d already covered about 110km of ups and downs through olive groves on quiet country roads. I reached the sea before the storm, but playing hide-and-seek with bad weather is never a guaranteed win. Exhausted, while recovering my strength with the only break of the day, the storm hit. Luckily, I had a plan B, and I’ll never stop being glad I always carry my tent! Amidst whirlwinds, rain, and pieces of bark, when not actual branches flying, I made one last effort to reach a nearby campsite and pitched my tent, escaping the worst of the storm. Now, as I write these notes, I’m enjoying the warmth of my sleeping bag while a few drops still patter outside. Today went well. Tomorrow, finally, Bari, after 915km in exactly eight days, and from there, the Ionian Sea and Calabria… My homeland is getting closer.
August 13th: Bari – Solid Ground and Canine Serenades
Italy, all the way to Bari! Almost 960km in 8 days flat. Today nothing particularly remarkable landscape-wise, except perhaps the salt pans of Margherita di Savoia or the Gargano looming after the campsite. The usual struggle with my knee, which is showing some signs of improvement; if I hadn’t had this problem, I would have been here yesterday. Today, a sleep on solid ground without the cheesy camping entertainment until 2 am… Barking dogs… bratty kids… I missed it! And tomorrow, the Ionian coast!
Welcome to Bari! This is just a simple appetizer (photo of a huge plate full of food). I was expecting tiny northern Italian tastings, not the whole dinner! At my signal… No, never mind the signal, I’m already good here! GNAM!
August 14th: Metaponto – Dangerous Encounters and Coastal Delights
Today, 105km of ups and downs, spectacular countryside landscapes on lonely roads. And arriving in Metaponto, I encountered some very dangerous people! (Note: the “dangerous” person is because I have a photo with Silvio).
And a summary comment on August 14th: Italy to Bari! 960km in 8 days, passing from the Po Valley to the Adriatic coast. 8 days of sunrises over the sea, fish snacks, the smell of salt air, sometimes scorching sun, and beautiful seascapes. Today I cut across to the Ionian coast, from there to Calabria, which I will then cut across towards the Tyrrhenian Sea at Paola. Still to be defined in detail, Calabria is very mountainous, and I would like to minimize the days of climbs under the August heat in areas where finding water and open shops could be difficult. But Sicily is getting closer!
August 15th: Basilicata and Calabria – Camping Nightmares and Ferragosto Heat
I hate campsites! Really, I detest them. Camping for me is pitching a tent in remote areas, possibly with zero population, admiring the stars and listening to the voices of nature at night, reflecting on the day spent. Yesterday, of course, everything was sold out everywhere. I considered going rogue on some deserted beach, but the Basilicata coast is inaccessible except from some villages connected by the SS106, which is a nasty highway. Impossible, therefore, not to attract attention (in Italy, wild camping is prohibited) when you have to make your way through beaches, campsites, and umbrellas. In the end, I went to a classic campsite, but by 10 pm, I was losing it. Shouting, barking dogs, capricious children screaming at the top of their lungs, and so far… Okay, I can deal with that. They’re dogs. They’re kids. It’s not their fault, if anything, it’s the owners or parents who are inept. But what devastated me… Not the barking. Not the brain-splitting screams. Not the Olympic snorers. No, WORSE: the campsite (re)animation! Toto Cutugno! Celentano! Ricchi e Poveri! The Chicken Dance! They even resurrected that! But with such (re)animation, you go to intensive care. They made my grilled seafood go directly from my stomach to my tear ducts. But WHY SO MUCH HATE? Well, after a sleepless night kept awake by resentment, this morning’s awakening was difficult. The small metal bracket I had built to mount the rearview mirror couldn’t withstand the vibrations and broke. The aluminum bracket to support the weight of the rear bag had loosened, and while tightening it, I overdid it, breaking one of the arms. Fortunately, the campsite had a lot of equipment; with a drill, I fixed the mirror. As for the bracket, it was experimental (a very successful experiment!), so I had something to replace it with elastic cords and Velcro (and it’s holding up great!). With all this, I lost time and left around 11 am, still having to have breakfast, find an ATM, and a bar with ice for the camelback. By one o’clock, I was already dying of hunger and heat while trying to avoid the SS106 by taking all the service roads, which made me lose a lot of time. Finally, after Policoro, the “no entry” signs for bikes disappeared, and I took the 4-lane highway… a calculated risk because on Ferragosto at lunchtime, there wasn’t a soul around. And I started racking up kilometer after kilometer, despite the headwind and the 44 degrees rising from the asphalt like a hairdryer. In Roseto Capo Spulico, now in Calabria, the coast changed and became stunning… azure sea, castles, and a beautiful provincial road along the coast. Ice tea break with lemon popsicles, and then invigorated by seeing a real Riviera again, I rode even harder; by 5 pm, I had covered 102km and miraculously found accommodation in a hotel in Sibari. Calabrians should be known for being QUIET; if anyone disturbs me tonight, there will be feuds!
August 17th: From Ionian to Tyrrhenian – Calabrian Coasts and Cyclist Encounters
Adriatic, Ionian, and today, Tyrrhenian! After a ‘sweet’ succession of ‘lovely’ climbs under a CURSED heat, in a comfortable 125km from Crotown (=Crotone 🙂 ) to Pizzo Calabro, I crossed over to the other side. Now I’m stationed 100km from Villa San Giovanni, after 1400km in 12 days. Tomorrow evening, if all goes well, I’ll sleep under the sky of my homeland, and… I can’t wait. Today I met Paolo, a guy from Messina who was going in the opposite direction with traditional bags, still on his second day and already complaining about the climbs… ouch… it will be a long way to Treviso. Final note: The Ionian coast of Calabria is beautiful, a placid and calm azure sea, lush Mediterranean scrub, countless vestiges of Magna Graecia… I really enjoyed it. Near Pizzo Calabro, I met a group of cyclists, Peppino & Co. They asked me many questions and enthusiastically offered to escort me to get ice cream and then to the hotel where I spent the night near Vibo Valentia. I still keep in touch with Peppino for Christmas and New Year, with greetings messages.
August 18th: Approaching Sicily – A Devastating Climb and the Sight of Home
A DEVASTATING, tremendous climb. The Calabrian coast on the Tyrrhenian side is atrocious, a climb up to Palmi, then always following the villages in between. Shortly after lunchtime, I arrived in Gioia Tauro: a very strange feeling, deserted streets, no one around. I stopped to eat a takeaway pizza in a small place overlooking the road. The locals were torn between diffidence and being amused by such a strange character who “dares” to venture around there by bicycle. But understanding the situation, I immediately declared my Sicilian origin and spoke to them in Sicilian dialect. This created a relaxed atmosphere, with questions and curiosity, until it was time to leave. The heat was tremendous; I drank a lot. Another endless and very hard climb began, finally stopping shortly before Bagnara. At the top of the climb, I stopped at a bar to have tea with a lemon popsicle and cream gelato. I was now close to Villa San Giovanni and mentally preparing myself for the last effort.
Comment on a photo of Sicily: “There she is!!”
I finally saw Sicily from Calabria! How many times, traveling by train to and from Milan during my childhood, had I seen Sicily, placid, standing out against the backdrop of the Calabrian coast. This image reinvigorated and cheered me up. I regained my energy and started riding again, racking up kilometers, until finally… Villa San Giovanni! I followed the signs for boarding and from there found the Caronte ferries. I bought a ticket and shamelessly skipped all the cars waiting in line for boarding. I secured the bicycle as best I could on the car deck, and OF COURSE, I went upstairs to devour a couple of ARANCINI and a Coca-Cola while enjoying the crossing to Sicily… until, LAND!
A great emotion came over me as I left the ferry with my wheels touching the soil of my mother island. I headed towards the hotel in the Messina traffic. In the evening, a decent dinner at a restaurant near the hotel.
August 19th: Messina to Letojanni – Reunions and Coastal Views
I left the hotel and headed towards Letojanni. Only 50km, mainly to meet my uncles who were on vacation there. Leaving Messina, I argued with and cursed at least three idiot drivers who were driving erratically. I saw the eastern Sicilian coast again and enjoyed the scenery. Suddenly, on a hairpin turn, my uncle called me, saying they were running late. I arrived in Letojanni at 3 pm, parked my bike near the beach, and started enjoying the sea breeze. At 3 pm, the relatives arrived, and we were happy to see each other again. I told them a bit about the trip and the misadventures. We had a late lunch after looking for parking for their car, and we settled in for the afternoon. In the evening, my cousins joined us, and we went out for seafood. A good, restful sleep followed.
August 20th: Letojanni to Catania – Etna, Memories, and a Sense of Home
In the morning, I left Letojanni and went to my cousin’s house for a quick granita with brioche at a bar, with her and her husband. Between one thing and another, it got late, but I wanted to reach Catania by the end of the day. I started riding, and finally, at a certain point, near Taormina, after leaving Isola Bella behind… I took a hairpin turn uphill, and on the other side, I suddenly saw it again. Her Majesty, Etna. With its ever-different and changing profile, so active and yet strangely docile, too many times frenetic, always spectacular. The most distinctive feature of the landscape during my childhood years, with its imposing bulk that intersected every gaze turned towards the horizon, with the scars of lava and basalt scattered everywhere, with the orchards carved out among the lava flows, as harsh and hard to work as they are fertile. How long it took me to get used to its absence! And the citrus groves, which spread a delicate and sweet aroma everywhere in the air, which intoxicates you… I had forgotten about it. I don’t know how I could have forgotten it; feeling it again among the roads around Acireale, with the beautiful landscapes and the farmhouses on the azure sea, caused a short circuit of memories as only olfactory memory can do. Today, between these sensory stimuli and the fiercely hot and incongruous sun, the words of Prince Salina in “The Leopard” came back to my mind, never more true and imposing:
“[…] Sicily, the environment, the climate, the landscape. These are the forces that together and perhaps more than foreign dominations and incongruous rapes have formed the soul: this landscape that ignores the middle ground between lascivious softness and damned harshness; which is never petty, down-to-earth, relaxing, human, as a country made for the dwelling of rational beings should be; this country that a few miles away has hell around Randazzo and the beauty of the bay of Taormina, both out of measure, therefore dangerous; […]”
And this is the key, between salvation and damnation but never reconciliation, of those like me. Condemned to love it madly and at the same time despise it with fury, to yearn for its maternal embrace but always want to escape it. But we can never ignore it because we are made like her.
I continued to Catania, and finally, I felt at home! My hotel was on the Ognina seafront. How wonderful to be here! It was a beautiful trip because Italy is beautiful, but the 150km of coast between Messina and Catania were worth the whole trip. Tomorrow, visiting other relatives, and then I’ll start heading home!
