Dearest Readers,
We are pleased to announce that, after three months in Italy, WRONG WAY ADVENTURES HAS REACHED SICILY!!! WHOOOOHOOOO!!!
We are pleased to announce that, after three months in Italy, WRONG WAY ADVENTURES HAS REACHED SICILY!!! WHOOOOHOOOO!!!
Six months of difficult and not so difficult pedaling have brought us to this long awaited island destination that we have so long quoted as our first major goal.
We would like to tell you that the past couple of weeks have been lovely. Good weather, beautiful views, traveling along flat and easy roads through tons of small towns full of people where we have been able to perform our little show in the street and earn a bit of money to make our journey possible...but nothing could be further from the truth.
We would like to tell you that the past couple of weeks have been lovely. Good weather, beautiful views, traveling along flat and easy roads through tons of small towns full of people where we have been able to perform our little show in the street and earn a bit of money to make our journey possible...but nothing could be further from the truth.
It could be said that the past couple of weeks have been some of the hardest weeks we've experienced so far, but they have, nonetheless, been quite interesting for various reasons. The views have been beautiful and the people, though there are not so many out and about this time of year, have been very welcoming and hospitable. As they have been in all of Italy. And in Switzerland...and France...and Spain...
We can't say the same about the weather that we've had to get along with since we left the Amalfi Coast and arrived in Salerno. Cold, wind, and what's worse, rain...there have been many days that reminded us of our time in Piemonte, the skies cloudy and grey 90 percent of the time and hardly a soul to be seen. The Basilicata and Calabria coasts, like most coasts, make their money in the summer and sleep in the winter.
We can't say the same about the weather that we've had to get along with since we left the Amalfi Coast and arrived in Salerno. Cold, wind, and what's worse, rain...there have been many days that reminded us of our time in Piemonte, the skies cloudy and grey 90 percent of the time and hardly a soul to be seen. The Basilicata and Calabria coasts, like most coasts, make their money in the summer and sleep in the winter.
It goes without saying of course, that we made it through like champions. We took it day by day, getting on our bikes regardless of the weather, and finding abandoned houses to pass the night. Safe from the wind and rain, we were able to recharge our batteries, waking before dawn in an effort to get in a decent number of kilometers before the rain could catch us. But, as per the Law of Colleen's Irish ancestors, just when we were packed up and ready to go, the first drops of rain would begin to fall...
These have been hard times, passing through parts nearly devoid of people, not to mention self-service laundromats...None in this town, sorry...No, the next town doesn't have one either...This town seems bigger! Yes, there's a landromat! Oh, self-service? Nope, not here...but there's a town 140k in the wrong direction that's got one for sure! In this way, we went 2 weeks without washing our clothes until we were saved, quite unexpectedly, by Maurizio Curtosi, his family, and their laundromat.
These have been hard times, passing through parts nearly devoid of people, not to mention self-service laundromats...None in this town, sorry...No, the next town doesn't have one either...This town seems bigger! Yes, there's a landromat! Oh, self-service? Nope, not here...but there's a town 140k in the wrong direction that's got one for sure! In this way, we went 2 weeks without washing our clothes until we were saved, quite unexpectedly, by Maurizio Curtosi, his family, and their laundromat.
In our almost daily search for four walls and a roof, we have even gone so far as to ask at a brothel, quite unknowingly, if we could maybe sleep in a backyard shed or garage. The tickled laughter of the friendly African woman, the two young girls who didn't speak Italian or English, another woman who spoke to us through the door...everthing was a bit odd. That evening, when we returned to the same street to get to a house under construction that the owner's father-in-law had given us permission to use, granted we didn't tell a soul and headed out bright and early...we saw the red, blue and pink lights lighting the windows and the way to the apartment complex. And everthing suddenly made sense. It's unfortunate, though, that the landlady wasn't in...we're sure she would have had a free bed or two...
We've climbed hills that reminded us of those found in Cinque Terre, where we were forced to push our bikes, sweating like pigs despite the cold, heads down, putting one foot in front of the other to complete the mission. The Cilento Coast with its singular and seemingly unavoidable old highway, caught us totally by surprise. We'd climb a few hundred meters only to be plunged back down to sea-level and invited once again to climb a couple hundred more...until, thanks to the advice of a local, we hopped on the "Superstrada" - ignoring the clearly posted prohibition of bicycles. In less than 20 minutes, we were in Sapri, which we had been told was about 40k away. The Superstrada was straight, quiet and almost all downhill, allowing us to reach and maintain a velocity of around 65km/h. We got our adrenaline fix and arrived with fresh, windblown faces at the "House of the Soldered Doors"...all except for one, of course. It keep us warm and dry for two nights but when we were ready head on, the marshy yard we had crossed to get in had turned into a lake. A quick hop over the fence, passing the bags and bikes over one by one, and no one was any the wiser.
We've climbed hills that reminded us of those found in Cinque Terre, where we were forced to push our bikes, sweating like pigs despite the cold, heads down, putting one foot in front of the other to complete the mission. The Cilento Coast with its singular and seemingly unavoidable old highway, caught us totally by surprise. We'd climb a few hundred meters only to be plunged back down to sea-level and invited once again to climb a couple hundred more...until, thanks to the advice of a local, we hopped on the "Superstrada" - ignoring the clearly posted prohibition of bicycles. In less than 20 minutes, we were in Sapri, which we had been told was about 40k away. The Superstrada was straight, quiet and almost all downhill, allowing us to reach and maintain a velocity of around 65km/h. We got our adrenaline fix and arrived with fresh, windblown faces at the "House of the Soldered Doors"...all except for one, of course. It keep us warm and dry for two nights but when we were ready head on, the marshy yard we had crossed to get in had turned into a lake. A quick hop over the fence, passing the bags and bikes over one by one, and no one was any the wiser.
We've pedaled the entire coast from Naples to Villa San Giovanni, taking off our shirts while playing frisbee one sunny day, only to return to head-to-toe rain gear for the next four days. We've had our bikes strapped to the back of a "Piaggio", a tiny pick-up truck that instead of a steering wheel has two handles like a scooter, the two of us plus the driver packed in like sardines. The driver was quite insistent, though it didn't take much to talk us into letting him carry us up an 8k climb in a cold, hard rain on one of the toughest days we've had. We should have stayed put that day, we had a house with plenty of firewood, orange trees and really nice neighbors who had showered us with questions and concerns for our physical and mental well being. They also showered us with food - cheese, eggs and meat from their fridge and oranges from their backyard, apoligizing for not having more to give us! We had stopped just to let them know our intentions of staying the night in the abandoned house at the end of the road..and to ask if what appeared to be a wolf, kept in a large cage behind the house, was in fact a wolf. We could have predicted their answer. Its icy stare and agitated silence was all the proof we needed. The urgency of our dirty laundry and the close proximity of Vibo Valentia, however, was enough to make us leave all this behind venture out in the cold and rain.
When were just 10k from Vibo Valentia and its promise of self-service laundry - 10k of uphill climbing, that is - we decided to stop and ask if maybe there wasn't a self-service in Vibo Marina, 5k downhill. We were in luck, and without a moment's hesitation, we went tearing back down to sea-level. We found a couple of abandoned houses on the way down that we dreaded the thought of having to climb back up to, but if that was the price of getting out of the rain and cold then so be it. And there, at the bottom of the hill, was the laundromat...and our savior, Maurizio, who we've already mentioned but of whose kindness we will never tire of retelling.
When were just 10k from Vibo Valentia and its promise of self-service laundry - 10k of uphill climbing, that is - we decided to stop and ask if maybe there wasn't a self-service in Vibo Marina, 5k downhill. We were in luck, and without a moment's hesitation, we went tearing back down to sea-level. We found a couple of abandoned houses on the way down that we dreaded the thought of having to climb back up to, but if that was the price of getting out of the rain and cold then so be it. And there, at the bottom of the hill, was the laundromat...and our savior, Maurizio, who we've already mentioned but of whose kindness we will never tire of retelling.
We left the next day, our stomachs filled with fagioli alle Calabrese, nduja from Spilinga, cheese, bread, and potatoes, our bags full of clean clothes, and our spirits full of shared stories and music. Next stop, Tropea, where Colleen had some problems with a pesky serial flat tire, highly resistent to repair. But it wasn't enough to slow down our arrival in Sicily, nor was the rupture in Colleen's rear rim due to an over-tightened spoke. The classic unhooked-brake fix and onward pedaling! Only 12k of straight climbing and a long and pleasant descent to get to Villa San Giovanni where the ferry was waiting to carry us to the promised land. The bike computer read 5,532 km as we dismounted and headed upstairs to watch the pennisula fade away and the island come into view.
Shortly after disembarking, we arrived at our new home, a quaint " Casa di Vacance " in the small town of Mili de San Marco, just outside of Messina, run by our gracious host Dino Bombara. The cosy house sits above the village with views of the sunrise over Calabria and the Mediterranean, terraced beds with oranges, grapes and olive trees, built into the hillside behind it. We're helping to build some ramps that will make possible the use of a motorized wheelbarrow to more easily and efficiently cart the grapes from the vines down to the wine cellar, cleaning and organizing the house a bit, whatever else needs doing. We'll also have time to busk in nearby Messina, as well as make a dent in a generous number of projects that we have in mind...the fruits of a combination of many hours on the bike to think and dream, and the natural tendency of the active and curious traveler's mind to glean ideas from its ever-changing surroundings.
We can easily say that we are currently quite happy and content, if a bit off-balance due to the fact that there is suddenly no need to wake up and pedal all day, compensated for by a pile of to-do lists full of things to cross off. At the top of the list, though we might rather focus on other things, is filling our very empty pockets. Until the rain stops, however, there's not much we can do in that regard.
We can't say, at the moment, what our next step will be, nor when we will take it, nor in which direction. What we do know is that we will NOT be stopping anytime soon. The possibilities are endless, and our desire and enthusiasm is too.
Best,
Jose and Colleen
Best,
Jose and Colleen