24/11/24
After such a long ride the day before it was impossible not to feel reluctant about the prospect of heading off too early. We had a coffee and crammed the rest of the bread and jam in, our bodies demanding evermore fuel. We left around 10am, back along the bank to that bridge which required the insane loop and then carried on towards Porte Tolle.
We were soon at the next river and therefore bridge and therefore on a busier road. But as soon as we had crossed the route whisked us back to a quieter safer road. Where we were cycling seemed to have been one of those places where cycling had once been encouraged. There were signposts and information boards, but they’d fallen into disrepair. The colour was lost and it was hard to read the maps. Some of it was even in English, so it certainly served as a tourist destination, once upon a time.
The terrain was still very familiar though it was on a grander scale than the Fens. We rode along a huge bank, wide enough to have a road on top, with large plantations growing in the wet, muddy floodplain between us and the river. Farmland was the only other thing we could see.
It was actually a cold(er)day and there were even clouds, a phenomenon we were barely used to. Our hands and feet could feel the cold and the desolated landscape made us feel even colder. The only points of interest were beautiful pine trees, someone mentioned they were maritime pine, but they could be stone pine. Their beautiful umbrellas making the woods look like bubbly green sponges from afar.
Torre Abate is a remnant of the age of drainage. Something we also have plenty of at home, but lacking the beautiful 16th century Italian architecture that was present here. A beautiful building that had a toilet and even electricity, though no one but a couple of walkers in sight. We paused to eat some dates and warm up a little.
We were now heading back towards the sea and a lovely woodland along the coast called Pineta di Volano. We had initially planned to camp here, though in a moment of weakness, tired and cold, we relented to find a room in Porto Garibaldi. Yes, just like the biscuit. Fortunately, we were right to do so, the wood served up no places to camp, it being densely packed.
It was also densely packed with deer. There being so many, that looking in any direction yielded at least a 50% chance of seeing one or more. Sometimes they were seemingly frightened but mostly not at all bothered by our presence. It was a rather enjoyable few kilometres, punctuated by a track that was more difficult to find and equilibrium with. It did, however have glorious sea views, with an incredible reddy coloured sky in the distance, curiously it wasn’t anywhere near sunset yet. We guessed some kind of Saharan influence?
Once back on the roads we could only liken the area to Skegness or some other resort that became spooky and dead in the off season. Masses of large campsite related infrastructure including football pitches and swimming pools, as well as extremely quiet streets with rows of seemingly unoccupied houses.
We arrived at the address of our accommodation at around three, but we’d used booking.com this time as there was a sparseness of places available. The occupants of the apartments told us that we should go into the Italian restaurant next door to find the owners.
Inside was an extremely happy Italian man, who commented immediately on the wearing of shorts, and then set about telling his daughter that English people had arrived. It seemed very likely he was suggesting that she should practice her English. We asked for a ground floor room and he took us round the back to a pleasantly simple apartment.
We hadn’t been to a shop yet and didn’t have much food. We thought we could finally make it to the Eurospin, about two kilometres away, on foot. Though the first 500m had a footpath, the rest did not. It was a somewhat sketchy walk to a cars only destination. The road suddenly became busy and though often smiling, most Italian drivers had little concern other than just not hitting you.
Eurospin was a little disappointing, perfectly good store, but not as cheap as the name and logo would suggest. False advertising again! We bought some flour and toppings, for pizza of course, some fruit, more dates and a very large bar of gianduja (hazelnut paste) chocolate.
As always, the journey back was psychologically quicker, though we arrived back just before we lost the daylight. We cobbled some stovetop pizza together, the kitchen being poorly equipped, and got some rest.
Surly They Won't Make It 