In which Sid and Doris ride with flamingoes, lunch in a holiday camp, ride across a mighty hot plain then up a mighty hillclimb to reach a resort hotel with no swimming pool.
This felt like hard day at 87 kilometres and 781 metres of climb, approx 80 k of flat and all the climb packed into the last 7k. From Barletta we headed to Marguerite di Savoie pausing only for Doris to buy a very elegant wooden bicycle sculpture as a #virtualsouvenir at a shop called “In e Out Progetti”. Sid did wonder whether they would ever want to see a bicycle again after they return home, but Doris said that is the whole point of virtual souvenirs. [Sorry for the rubbish picture but the bike was right up against a pillar by the window and the shop was shut. – D.]
The road ran through an area of very flat coastal plain between the sea and a salt lake. So we saw salt pans, then flamingos, oyster catchers (our faves) and then an area where the land was still held in little strips. Not much sign of life except tomatoes being harvested by African day labourers and their gang-master.
This flat landscape brought to mind the Fens and My Girl from the Fens, by the Ouse Valley Singles Club. It is one of the best love songs ever. Certainly this is a strange utterly flat landscape too, maybe fewer canals and ditches. It is hotter too.
There are so few places to stop that we went into Hippo Campo, a little holiday village to find a supermarket and fruiterers. We sat under a tree with penknife, baguette, butter, cheese, jambon cru, tomatoes, plums and nectarines. Really quite a holiday.
Then across the hot, shadeless plain to the real business of the day. The main climb to our carefully chosen resort hotel (chosen on the non-contoured map Sid mentioned yesterday – D.) is 3 k of straight up and then 4 k of hairpins to S Giovanni Rotondo. In the end quite a satisfying climb but not really leaving you wanting more. Also, dismayingly, on a rocky outcrop which means we will be going back down to sea level tomorrow.
San Giovanni is now a place of pilgrimage as the one-time home of Padre Pio (as in pious). As a boy (pre WW1) he was feverish and saw visions. In later life he exhibited the stigmata. His services would last hours as he related his visions. Probably modern interventions could have made his life more ordinary, but less intense than being God’s conduit.
Either way our suffering will last only a few more minutes as we climb further up to San Giordino Rotunda (St John The Fat?) and on to Borgo Celano. As a resort the Mulcri hotel is lacking an outdoor pool, garden and cheery bar. We are offered a room overlooking a coach park; this is changed with good grace. Doris is cast down at the general non-resortness. Our room is pleasant enough but there are no public spaces except a featureless terrace and some artistic seating in reception. The dining room is much cheerier than a broom cupboard, and better lit.
Even so, we decide to stay two nights as there is a lot of work to do on our route and we fancy a day of not getting on the bikes. We have had quite a few short days, but it isn’t the same rest as not packing, not spinning, not inhaling the diesel, not sitting on the bum bones.
The puzzle of legs vs places with acceptable accommodation, distance and climb is very difficult and left until Day 65 as we call tomorrow.
So off out to ‘town’ where we are among the early eaters at about 9.00pm. The restaurant has a lot of tables and a lot of staff so they must be expecting custom. Half an hour later the place is filling up. Enjoyable food and drink bring us around to a calmer frame of mind and we walk home in better heart.
We leave you with this advert which was very, very appealing to a Bonkers couple who haven’t been to a worthy museum since Istanbul. Confetto means Sugar Plums but Andria is sadly a long way in the wrong direction, somewhere south of Barletta. It is is not obvious why they chose to advertise it halfway up the road to the Italian equivalent of Ayers Rock.