Follow the Blue Circle in the Sky

Day 12/56 : 15,00kms around Europe.

The wind didn't chase the clouds away. They are getting darker and darker. And as we ride further south down the Eastern leg of the Italian boot it is becoming apparent we need to make a plan. The plan starts forming as we wind our way past groves of olive trees, fields of sweet potatoes, hilltop towns and polytunnels of peaches. We'll just have follow the big bright blue circle of sky that has appeared, as if by magic, above our helmet heads. We dash through Agropoulis, down the via Appia to Acciarolli where we shelter from the rain for coffee and croissants. More blue circle skies take us to Policastro for a picnic lunch on the harbour wall and then it's on to Lagonegro and Policoro. So far we have avoided getting wet by dodging the deep, deep grey canopy and riding under the blue patches overhead. Then by late afternoon our luck ran out. No blue skies and lots of rain. We head for the autostrada and stop in a SOS lay-by to complete the arduous and tricky task of donning rainsuits, standing on one leg, then the other, over boots, over bulky jackets and propping ourselves on the bike without it or us falling over. The rain makes our fingers sticky and clumsy. A bright Orange Highway Service van stops to offer assistance. “Thanks, but no thanks, we're done”. Both attired in luminous green Hi-Vis Babygros, and then the rain stops. Too bad, we keep them on and keep warm against the late afternoon howling wind that is now driving the clouds and rain away. The flat lands across the Sole of the Boot create tremendous side winds so we tuck ourselves in the fast lane as close as possible to the centre Armco barrier and and swaying plants for protection. It's exhausting,but we hang on until we spot a welcoming sign to San Marco Agroturissimo. We agree “that's definitely enough for the day” as we drive down an elegant tree-lined drive to a stunning geometric classical white building overlooking the vast windy valley below. We knock. We call loudly with no response. “There's some people in the garden” I say. Bedraggled, windswept and wearily we stroll over “ Buenos dias,can you help us please?” Yes, they are relatives of the grandmother who runs the agroturissimo. Back to the white cube where they all disappear inside and bring out an elegantly dressed octogenarian, styled with bold red lipstick and beautiful coiffured hair. She opens the door into tiny side room/office and everybody squashes in. Fifteen Italians ranging from 60 years down to 4 years, plus 2 bikers with helmet and jackets, make for a very cosy confab. We proceed to have at least 5 very loud conversations in both English and Italian where everybody is translating and joining in and eventually hand over some money and are informed that we can pitch the tent in the garden. There's a spotless bathroom for our use, plus washing machine and another tent with a friendly Belgian couple. We tie our tent to a disused caravan and a large tree, find a broken terracotta pot to act as a wind shield and boil up water for an authentic spaghetti supper. A gift of homemade red wine appears from one of the family and we spend an entertaining evening with our neighbours swapping travel stories. The wind dies down overnight and we wake up to a beautiful bright blue day, no rain, no clouds. Following the blue circle in the sky took us through villages, harbours and mountain passes, and adventures that surprised, delighted and wore us out. What a great way to travel.

“That’s Amore”

A cool morning breeze welcomed us as we packed up and set off South after a fabulously cosy warm night in our super-heated tent. With no particular route in mind, except to hug the coast and ride South, we breezed through Naples and stopped 44 kms later in Pompei. What a lovely town, coffee bars everywhere. The tourist shop at the station gave us maps and instructions and we ignored them all, waved to the ruins and the queue outside and carried on. The sun is shining, bike perfectly balanced, B enjoying the roads and we’re singing my favourite song: “oh, what a beautiful morning ….“ as loud as we can inside our helmets. We really can belt it out within our own echo chambers.  

 We take the inland back road around Mount Vesuvius viewing it from all angles until we are back on the coast road. 71 kms from our start we are at Sorrento which is a bit tricky with tourist buses, but B gets past them all with calculated ease. The roads are twisty, jam-packed with just about every vehicle imaginable, luxury sports cars, silly little 3-wheeled pickups, ridiculous Ferrarris stuck in first gear, bicycles and buses. It’s manic but exhilarating. I lean back against the bedding pack and snap away. We ride beyond the tourist route almost to the end of the peninsula and wave to the ships sailing to the island of Capri. The sea and sky are glistening blue, eye-burning beautiful blue. There is no discernible horizon, the view is all a big blur of blue. I think I’ll paint a big canvas of blue when I get home. We find a little triangle of green grass in one of the villages and have a picnic. The houses are perched scarily on the side of the cliffs ready to fall into the sea. And then we get back on the road to Amalfi. At least 10 movies have had the Amalfi coast as their background* and it is easy to see why.

The Drama is in the domineering mountains and plunging cliffs. The Plots follow the twists and turns of the road, disappearing into tunnels and taking your breath away with the beauty when you emerge the other side. The traffic squeezes everybody like a toothpaste tube along this sinuous road, with dare-devil boy racers testing their nerve as they overtake into oncoming traffic around blind corners. It’s terrifying to watch. We hang back and try to take a rest in Ravello. Only for a second though as parking is at a premium and we are ushered to move on just as I’ve climbed off the bike. B really needs to take a break, but on we go through this crazy gorgeous funnel lined on the left by lemon groves and sheer drops on the right. We are in Limoncello Land. And then the fuel gauge flashes. At a stretch our limit is 300kms and we calculated we were at 289kms. Oops, according to the GPS the next big town, Salerno, is 30kms away. Not going to make it! Typing in ‘petrol’ on the GPS (leaning over B’s shoulder and on the move) we hairpin up left into these monstrous rocks along a very narrow road. The road repair taffic lights take forever, using our precious fuel as we wait and wait. Another bike pulls up and ignores the lights, so we follow suite. At the top of the climb there a convergence of roads, help, we don’t know which one to take. We ask a chap in a car, nonchalantly parked in the shade, such a contrast to our near panic in the sun. No petrol = panic. He shrugs, and points hesitantly “that way, I think”. We are riding on fumes as we spot a lonely pump in a layby. Oh dear, it doesn’t take credit cards, CASH ONLY. We haven’t been to an ATM since visiting Rome 4 days ago and Lidl’s and coffee bars had consumed most of it. We have just one 5 euro note left. We feed the note into the mouth of the machine, and it promptly spits it out. Again and again , we try turning the note over, turning it around. Nope, not going to take it! And then a very nice Italian pulls up in his van. Luckily, he can't put fuel in his van until we move on. We did a bit of 5euro note swopping until eventually one of his worked. Many ‘Grazias’ later we took another hazardous road back to the coast. With 10kms of fuel left we had ridden from Ravello to petrol stop in Pietre (11kms). Pietre down to Maiori was a spectacularly stunning and dangerous 9.5kms. I say dangerous because we had a close one. I had been taking photos with my right hand but decided that the steep S-bends required more than just a balancing act. I really should be holding on to B. In one simultaneous moment as I leant left to tuck the camera away, B swung around a right bend, I straightened up and we over balanced skimming into a retaining wall, bouncing on the right-side pannier which threw us sharply left again. The next S-bend was immediately upon us but fortunately a small pull-off area allowed us to right ourselves and stop, next to a low wall below with a heavenly view of thousands of dangling lemons. Without thinking too much that we could have been dangling amongst them we unpacked the lunch bag and munched on last night’s left-over spaghetti pesto.  Time and space for a break, indeed. B was puzzled as to why the bike had veered into the wall for no apparent reason. I then realised the critical part that the pillion plays in the whole riding and cornering pattern and confessed that I'd been fiddling around at the back putting my camera away, which changed the balance of the bike. Not so good on a hairpin bend on a cliff face.

The coastal ride from Maiori to Salerno was 31 kms, where we filled the tank to the top and more. Including the miracle 5 euro pump’s input; we calculated we had done 326 kms on a 300km tank!

The ferocious wind and sand flying around down the coast after Amalfi drove us inland to Pontecagna, where we found a lovely sheltered empty grassy campsite. We tied the tarpaulin to 3 trees, scrounged a rickety table and looked forward to a peaceful recuperative night. The disco next door started up at 11pm, the dogs joined in with the party, yowling and barking, the rain came down in a big whoosh, the firecrakers went off until 5 am together with the disco and the pine trees left a sticky residue all over the tarpaulin.

But the best thing was the sweet smell of Star Jasmine as night fell. "That’s Amore."

 * movies

·         1950’s La Macchino Ammazzacattivi, Beat the Devil

·         1990’s Only You

·         2000’s Under the Tuscan Sun, A Good Woman, Scandal in Sorrento, Talented Mr Ripley

 2010’s Love is all you Need

This Tent comes with Underfloor Heating

This Tent comes with Underfloor Heating

The ride to Anzio, where we stopped for a picnic break, was pleasant. We asked at a restaurant for coffee, and found out that mid-morning coffee is provided by a bar not a restaurant.  So we settled for a delicious Italian ice cream instead. After the hectic ride through Rome city centre it was really good to just sit in the sun, look at the waves and watch a mum with her little boy having great fun and success with a kite. Perfect windy conditions. In fact, almost a little too windy.  We really need to hang on to keep upright and after 250kms of urbanisations and highways and sand dunes we called it a day. Normally we start looking for a campsite at about 4pm, but the wind today caused us to start searching by 2pm. We probably pulled in at about 5 different sites. "Sorry, only opening June 1^st". "That’s a pity ‘cos its only May 19^th."
 We passed huge plantations of apricots, fields of corn and polytunnels of tomatoes. The flat agricultural lands went on forever, occasionally interrupted by round-abouts. To break the tedium we branched off randomly left at one round-about and there in front of us was a gigantic Roman columned colossus. It was startling in its size and completeness and took us quite by surprise. I had studied Latin at school and our Latin teacher was as bored as we were doing all the grammar and conjugations. Whenever we got the chance we would ask him about Roman life and culture and then his eyes would light up and he would tell us great tales of wars and architecture and road-building. This is what we saw in front of us, a fantastic relic. I was thrilled.

 Its almost 4 pm and we have been searching for a campsite for 2 hours, travelling ever South, being bombarded by the buffeting wind. On the 6th^th attempt, following the GPS ‘places to camp’ category, we turned into an arched gateway down a narrow road into a vast courtyard. Oops, this looks like a private house. But no, a very enthusiastic Guiseppe rushed to meet and greet and welcome us to his family owned campsite. How could we resist?  “Please, Go anywhere, Camp anywhere, Hot showers, Moonlight walk, Bread and Coffee at the café, spare tables to use, Enjoy, Enjoy, Enjoy. “ And we did. After setting up camp, (no tarpaulin tonight), and cooking up a batch of spaghetti and pesto, we took Guiseppe’s advice.  We had a sunset stroll around the well-lit paths of Volcano Sulfata, peering into bubbling steam-filled holes and smelling wafting sulphur. It soon got dark and as we crept into our homely little red tent we cosied up in the warmth. Warmth! Soon we were shedding sleeping bags and opening up the vents. Why are we so hot?  For under floor heating in a tent we can seriously recommend camping in a volcano.

Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your ears

The ferry price from Olba to Civitavecchia included a cabin which we filled up quickly with helmets, jackets, bike pants and panniers. It’s the middle of May and at 6o’clock in the morning when the ferry docked we were welcomed with a warm hot wind. We took the back roads to Rome through the hilltop town of Bracciano where already at 7am the cafes were filled with noisy people drinking coffee and chomping on cheesy breads for breakfast. We couldn’t resist. Our camping discount-guide deal took us to a huge campsite 12kms outside of Rome city centre. The traffic was nose to tail which increases the pleasure of motorbike riding as B overtakes and ducks back in slowly getting ahead of the queue. Alarmingly, some motorists also thought they were on bikes and tried the same tricks until stopped on the wrong side of the road head-on into a police car. B mentioned that every country has its own driving style and he is constantly adapting his to suit. Rome scored low on the list of careful and considerate.

The Flaminio campsite is perfect if you are in a camper van: level grassy ground next to the ablutions. Tents are relegated to a rocky slope 500 paces away from all amenities. Well we pay less so they don’t care. Using B’s age as a feeler for any compassion we explained about middle of the night pee-trips. Not interested. Never mind there is a hedge in Flaminio Campsite that is well irrigated. After clearing some stones and tucking ourselves behind said hedge we set up camp for a 2 night (3 day) stay. This time the tarpaulin was tied to the fence and a tree, and we stomped the pegs in with a boot. A thought came to mind:  We need to buy triangular duralium pegs as recommended by George, and a lightweight mallet.

There’s a pool. We wander up to the top of the hill, carrying our superlightweight black ‘crushable to nothing’ costumes which we had been required to buy before entering a thermal spa on a previous trip around France. They fit into the front panniers along with other wet-wear gear. This pool requires the compulsory purchase of a bathing cap each; cost 4 euros, so both looking like we are training for the Olympics we don cap and cozzie. The water is freezing but we had to do it. We met a charming English couple at the poolside who sold their house in ‘Blighty’ 3 years ago, bought a caravan (not a camper) and live permanently in Spain on a campsite. Because of ferry costs they had come to Rome by car only and a luxury tent for their 2 week Roman adventure. They tour around Europe and do the grandparents’ bit in the UK when required. As an ex-Army chap, this semi-nomadic lifestyle suits him and his wife perfectly until such time as they will move back to the UK and live with their grown up children. We are fascinated by their lifestyle change and good spirit. They also supplied us with heaps of information about trains, buses and must-see sights.

Suitably cooled down and refreshed we walk to the metro and arrive in Rome, popping out in the centre. The Leonardo da Vinci Museum of Working Things catches our eye and we spend a pleasant cool 2 hours handling large wooden workable replicas of the machines he invented. What a brilliant place. We had two return trips into Rome city centre by Metro and eventually worked out that the maximum change at the ticket machine is 3 euros, so if you put a 10 euro note in for tickets totalling 6 euros, you will not be issued tickets as it cannot give you change! Tip of the day: keep your coins.

The Coliseum was filled with people, the Trevi fountains were filled with people, the Spanish steps were filled with people, the Vatican was filled with people and the Pantheon was filled with people. We wiggled our way around and through them glimpsing the historic sights and tried to capture the feel of the ancient empire. Army trucks blocked main roads and the presence of security forces dominated the area. We found a shady courtyard with benches and trees to eat our picnic and chatted to a couple from Finland. Over 2 days we walked our sandaled feet off, drank lots of water and took masses of photos. The only Romans we saw were Gladiators selling their tours. Tick that box, time to move on.

So why are we exploring Europe? Primarily to meet the locals, sample their cuisine and understand modern day Europe, pre-Brexit and the migrant crisis. Back at the campsite we started to rethink our riding Route. Yes, we would try and ride through every capital city. No, we would not just ride from campsite to campsite. We repacked the bike so the thermals are now buried far away and the rain gear is quickly accessible.

Another glorious day, our last one here, and we brave the traffic once more and ride straight through the city centre with a fully loaded bike, and proceed South along the coast with the sea on our right.  The wind almost blew us inland again. We were a bit disappointed to see the laybyes filled with old furniture and black rubbish bags. Actually the dilapidated and neglected state of the countryside confirms to us that Southern Italy is in trouble.

Rome need more than ears.