D48 Minervinho to Rivo di Puglia

What a lovely couple of nights in Minervinho - the unsung balcony of Puglia. In the park on the top of the hill the cafes start filling up a couple of hours before sunset when the most extraordinary light show  commences as the wind turbines sitting in the windy rolling landscape below light up. All helped by a brilliant soundtrack laid out on by a cool dude whose photo was taken too late in evening to sadly show anything! Italian pop feels pretty good at this moment and I'm.beginning to recognise a few times you here playing in the narrow streets. Thanks to Rocco (a local saints name I later learn) I was feeling recuperated and ready to take on the hills of the National Park dell'Alto Murgia. Given my starting point this turned out to be not so challenging  and with little effort I reached the Castel del Monte of Frederick 2nd.
 For those of us with a shaky understanding of the Holy Roman Emperers who attempted to follow in Charlemagne 's wake (see earlier posts) Fred 2 is pivotal. Son of Barbarossa who crops up on Sicilian trips he powered up the peninsula from his southern power base ('son of Puglia' as is claimed locally with pride) to unite something which we can recognize from school books as a version of the 'holy Roman empire ' combining lands now falling in Germany and Italy and seeing off the Mongols to boot! The man was a polymath and took a serious interest in classical antiquities hence the flourishes to his castles and wrote a guide to hawking which is considered now an early work of ecology !  He ended up 'King of Jerusalem' amongst many other titles having been excommunicated 4 times for not doing what various popes wanted but managed to broker a deal with the Saracen Turks which won the holy places bloodlessly . What a life!
Anyway having enjoyed my first sighting of the Adriatic / Ionian Sea I wound down towards the coast through olives and vines.

 The  land is dotted with field shelters called tutti locally very reminiscent of the Mani. Indeed there are loads of echoes (our olives are Koroneiki varieta l after the town of Coroni,  here they are  Coratino after the town of Corato! 

Arrivied that afternoon in lovely Rivo do Puglia.another medieval town this time with a jazz festival on. A pleasant evening including a chat with all three women in my life , Susannah and my daughter's Harriet and Kate who were all dining together in Bristol and I felt fleetingly homesick for the first time on the trip.

D47 Gaudiano to Minervino

After spending the morning hanging out with my new mates learning some stuff about bikes and hammocks for future trips I decided to head over just 25 kms to Minervino which I worked out would give me a last night camping in the hills above an route to Bari after a night in shelter to get myself together after three nights wild camping.

I found somewhere on booking.com and off I went over the rolling hills escaping the tomato plain. As I pulled up the hill to Minervino I realised just how low on energy I was after the previous days effort and gratefully reached for my phone to use the GPS for the final approach to my overnight accomodation.Just then the phone went and it was booking.com Italy to say there had been a mistake and the property was no longer available - nearest alternative 20 km back the way I had come! It's hard to explain how frustrated and low I felt on hearing this. Something about having something snatched away from your for which you have toiled just at the moment of arrival!
Anyway I got on with it now determined to stay in Minervino and started walking the streets asking for camera per dormire! Then I spotted a taverns sign which also did camera - the result was Rocco the Taverns owner became my saviour chef and friend.
What a lovely guy running a fantastic slow food restaurant and with a lovely room in a barrel vaulted house round the corner.

Minervino is known as the balcony of Puglia perched atop its volcanic outcrop with panoramic views over the tomato plain. It's quiet local and the prices the perfect place for a two night stay to recuperate.

D46 into Puglia to Gaudiano

I had a good check in with my brother-in-law Alex last night (once the farmer had finally retired for the night) who accompanied me on days 2/3 as far as the South coast at Southampton a summer ago and is planning to rejoin the adventure at Patras for the ride in across the Pelopponese. Re-energized by the forthcoming rendezvous discussion I was up at dawn for a big push. Around the next corner I encountered the perfect roadside breakfast stop at the local gas station (a double espresso with marmelade croissant plus ablutions has become the routine) and then embarked on what turned out to be a 500m climb. Reflecting on how under-researched I am for this section of the route I decided by the top that it's best not to know what's coming! The ridge top cafe men were suitably impressed by my pilgrim's tale and informed me gravely that the hilltown (Ariano) I would soon be approaching was best not entered as it was Berlusconi's redoubt! With much comradely camaraderie I set off across a windy plateau for the next but one imposing hill town of Monteleone di Puglia. On arrival I left the bike at the entrance to the town and walked up -enough hill climbing already that morning. All the life was at the top where the weekly market was packing up and I joined the post market crowd at the cafe and attended to my messages on the phone which included an urgent requestor funds from my daughter - she had caught me at a good moment in funds with the pension news! Turning my attention to my surroundings I found an unusually party town with a very liberal feel evidences by this sign beside the war memorial commemorating the dead of both the second world war and the Italian Ethiopian colonial wars.

 The route on took me past countless wind turbines - no nimbyism evidently here but rightly an appreciation that sustainable technology has its own beauty. My Garmin informed me in was at 750m (no wonder it had felt like a hard pull that morning) and the afternoon turned into a swooping descent into the completely different landscape of the agricultural plain of central Puglia.

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I got as far as  the outer fringes of Candela where I ran out of steam in the shade of pine trees outside what looked like a casbah carrying a municipal sign of some kind. I was out of power and need urgently to make a routing decision. My preferred port of elaboration for Greece Bari had a  ferry which had suddenly added a note to their website about the job carriage of bikes which has thrown me into some uncertainty - would I need to head a further 100km to Bring us via a different route? I was fast approaching the branch point. So in I went in search of someone to help me get connected and  resolve all this. 

As luck would have it the  building was a migrant  reception centre staffed today by social worker Tania who added me to get 40 Nigerian women and children she was sheltering as a needy traveller!

Two hours later and a helpful discussion with the Greek Shipping Club (of course a bike was not a vehicle and of course it could go on board) I was a ticketholder and  Bari bound!I
One of the most surreal late afternoon sessions then unfolded as I descended into a huge agricultural plain devoid of people but with more tomatoes than I knew existed in this planet dotted with wind turbines all facing my way because he's the fierce Puglia wind is a westerly and I flew 40 kms with barely a pedal stroke!I
Carried away by this satisfying progress I was me an to make the most of it and unusually allowed the darkness to engulf me.

I knew the plain was devoid of life for a reason - heat and mosquitos I assumed - so not a very attractive option for a wild camo. I caught up! With some tractors heading towards a church tower in a small settlement - here there is a church there may be a bar I reasoned - and sure enough as I entered this tiny workers settlement there was the bar and there  was the rate sight of 3 cycle routers with laden bikes having a beer! Never  were fellow cyclists a more welcome sight! The night unfolded into a merry session toasting all things Italian, Catalan (for Elo, Monto and Jaime were Catalonian students ) and my pension with prosecxo. We all killed down together on the grass in front of the church and once again I drifted off to sleep thanking my lucky star.

D45 through Benevenito

The day started and finished at unspecified rural roadside wild camping spots but focussed around the last major urban centre before Bari. My map finished at Benovenito so I knew I had to find a mapshop at the very least. The route in was circuitous to say the least as the local cycling group has clearly advised a route for eurovel o 5 to steer around what is the hardest road system I have ever encountered! I sniff So grant money in the numerous huge empty roads on the periphery of the town leading nowhere! Anyway I failed to follow the largely unsigned notional EV5 route and ended up getting there by 'direct navigation' - is there's a bloody big town down there and this little road is heading towards it -go for it!
A trattoria lunch and the purchase of a nap at the train station kiosk solved my needs and I felt on schedule enough to enjoy some sight seeing in what has been an important Roman town at the confluence of two rivers on he remain route South East. The two sites of note, a well preserved theatre and a remarkable victory arch of Trajan did not disappoint.

The freeze and plaque above celebrates Trajans victory over the Germans ! Plus ca change c'est la meme chose me thinks!

These rather intriguing mask like heads caught my eye at the theatre - the keepers were unable to add any further information and I'm not carrying a guide book - any  theatrically minded  classicist readers out there are invited to comment?

The afternoon session took me out eastwards up a lovely valley where as usual in the nick of time I found a bar for evening beer, purchase of camping supper (cold pitza) and most importantly a bottle of the excellent local red to toast the arrival of my pension called through by my dear wife (with some relief all round! ) earlier in the day. So I lay in a field under a vine a little way up the valley beside my tent that night (ducking away from the surprisingly industrious local farmer working until 10 that night on a tractor fitted with lights that were more akin to search lights than tractor illumination) reflecting on the marvels of the pension system that means tonight I am no longer a tramp but a pensioner!

D44 San Ambrogia to Alife

After a reasonable night I got cracking and negotiated a tricky but of main road cycling to get across to the northern aspect of this major communication route having wandered along the southern fringe the previous day. I got to my breakfast cafe in the first village back on the route and enjoyed a morning chat over coffee with a young lawyer back home in the village for the August holidat from Milan. He was a cyclist and able to confirm the route on which via a tunnel through the looming volcanic outcrop up ahead was going to take me across into the neighbouring region.
This tunnel was fortunately less than a Km long, straight so the exit was visible, downhill but not too much and most importantly well surfaced with little traffic so not too dante-esque!
On the far side there was yet another change to the landscape as I traversed a wooded estate complete with workers cottages reminiscent of a colonial haciendo in Latin america!

I also spotted a rare sign for eurovelo 5 noteworthy enough to justify a stop to capture  the image above. The reassurance of encountering a sign for the wandering cycle tourer cannot be overstated.
I then had a long and increasingly  hot  run into my next target Alife and running low on water, food and energy I rolled through the Roman gateway into a perfectly multilateral walled town just as the Romans had designed it. Unfortunately I was knackered and all that was on my mind was lunch. Only one problem with this - where were all the inhabitants. On the beach, home in bed in the heat or had there been a zombie invasion? I said as much to the one lad loitering in the town square who responded not unreasonably that he didn't understand the clearly and red faced stranger! However he did understand the the word restaurant and directed me beyond the town. Ho w far I dejected asked? Oh the same distance as between the town hates he gestured in a brilliant piece of improvised communication. I set out more in desperation than hope as everything else was clearly shut for who knows how long!
The asphalt road turned into a stony track which led to a compound where I found a long ranch style building. I opened the door to find a n extended family just finishing what looked like it had been an excellent and  vinous lunch. No I was informed the restaurant wasn't open this lunchtime but after a pregnant pause with this crestfallen rider of course they would feed me! Christ I could have kissed the young woman who over the course of the afternoon I learnt was Ileria, a keen restaurateur like her parents who having learnt all she could from home was hoping to be London bound!

judging by the excellent lunch and the guys she had learnt the basics off she has a great future! After numerous digestives of the local green liqueur pressed on me and a short fiesta in their garden I set out at 5pm refreshed and reinvigorated! Not only that but Ileria pressed on me the best panini I have ever tastes for my supper which I enjoyed in the xool.if the evening in a far more rural wild camp under the stars and the rising full moon 30km down the rural road I was following.

D43 Cecinno to St Ambrogia

Posting from my tent tonight - the wonders of modern technology.Riding out of Ceccino a couple of fellow cyclists took me under their wing and soon we were at the cyclists' cafe. Lovely exchange of information with Ivano who runs a cycle tour company and his mate.
Onto Prasena which wasn 't on the planned itinerary but having climbed up the wrong road the bonus led into a relatively isolated valley with a small hilltop town right in the middle.
Fortunately it was lunchtime as I had spotted a sign on the way in advertising local cuisina typica which sounded good. The little town\village felt deserted but after making enquiries I was directed to a restaurant at the top of the town for what was my best lunch of the trip so far.... Bean soup followed by rabbit in olive and sage with aubergine on the side.....to die for. Their range of pickled vegetables was picture worthy I thought though when I shared these pics at a cafe this morning the lad was clearly rather unimpressed and commented it was just as his grandma did.

The afternoon started with a hard slog out of the valley  rewarded by a really special atmosphere - a little Shangri La in Campania as I am learning to call this region stretching North of Naples and intersecting with the Casino valley which heads down eastwards to Rome. The geography is complicated by a series of volcanic outcrops and the fact that the rivers drain South finding there way down to the med between Rome and Naples.

This hexagonal building was at the top of the pass - function obscure - but clearly ancient and reminiscent of the Carolingian chapels previously encountered. Anyway no time for further research - onwards in a swooping descent back down to the main valley and a late well fed push on. 

As the sun dipped I approached a hill town San Ambrogia on a smallish volcanic outcrop and having rejected low lying fields for a wild camp as looking rather mosquito infested I headed up hoping that  I might find some human company and a corner of grass to put  the tent up. Sure enough I spotted a patch of grass as the road wound up to the town just before the first house with a strange welcome display which I figured would shield me effectively in my furtive camp. Even better there a was a mini market where I was greeted warmly by Simone and his wife and was able to resupply and exchange Roma Liverpool banter. Yes Mo Salah was a steal Simone! But you have a pretty good view from your shop mate!

D 42 Palestrina to Ceccano

I promise to be brief today! At least I'm not attempting to summarise 2500 years of cultural history! The road from Pallestrina to Fuigi (SR155) is fab - little traffic, not too hilly and scenic in the extreme.

After a light lunch in Fuigi (supplier of water to the royal families of Europe and now a quiet spa dreaming of better times I took in two of the lower and very numerous historic hill towns dotting this underrated area. Ferentino was quiet with dramatic views and old men reluctant to.Talk about the battle for Monte Casino just down the valley where my Dads mate Led fought, a fact that was mentioned in terms of high respect. Looking it up.on WIKI I learn that the commanding 15th century Franciscan monastery was in fact not a German stronghold when it was destroyed by American bombing as the Allies fought their way up the peninsula.  It was only after the bombing that the Panzer divisions dug into the ruins to great effect making it an extremely costly assault for the Allies to clear the approach for Rome.  Gungho American bombing - sounds all too familiar! the onset of crepuscular twilight  found me at the unfashionable Ceccano having taken some time to negotiate laboriously a quiet and largely rural route past the populous modern agglomeration of Frosinone. As is so often the case in this Montainesque life a lovely evening ensued chatting with an anthropologis , her brother and Irish boyfriend just back from the beach at Bar I and then a lovely family running a Trattoria who had finished serving and were Sat eating their dinner rustled up a dinner including a memorable primi of buffalos mozzarella. I went to sleep replete in my €40 hotel room wondering what I had done to deserve such a dolce vita!