We will start with the stats: 102.3km from 9am to 7pm (inclusive of the standard 2 hour break for lunch - a few photos below). Much to my dismay, we were treated to plentiful hills and as always a bit of adversity at the end of the day when one's mental strength has been depleted and the muscles one thought unstoppable in the morning failing quickly.
We left the countryside outside Montegrosso at 9am en route to Castel del Monte, meaning literally castle on the mountain. From a distance the climb did not appear so steep or so extensive so we set off in good spirits. When you are at home planning this type of trip, you consider the hills that will besiege you but don't really digest the difficulty ahead. This despite the fact that you have experienced them before and at the time vowed never to subject yourself to that kind of torture again. How quickly the mind forgets.
Needless to say my father managed to keep his head above water, despite the fact that he was trailing me by 200 meters most of the way up. I on the other hand was in a mode of mental breakdown that seemed impossible to recover from. One of the great things about this type of cycling is that even with a traveling partner you are afforded hours upon hours of time alone with your thoughts. More often than not this is a positive thing, allowing you to reflect on the wonderful life you lead whilst taking in the scenery and plethora of new experiences. However, if you get even the slightest inkling of negativity or thoughts of regret they are compounded ten fold. I won't run you through every thought that crossed my my mind whilst grinding up a seemingly infinite climb but I regretted every extra pint I had drank after work, all the boyfriends I should never have dated, and the spinning classes I should never have missed!
Needless to say we made it to the top and were treated with some breathtaking views. We continued onwards to lunch where the trials and tribulations of the morning were all but forgotten and we enjoyed a seemingly endless selection of antipasti and as always in this part of the world exceptional hospitality and generosity.
As with any high, there is again a low to match it, just to ensure you remember that this is reality but not a dream, or as my dad says another wack on the head with a 2x4 beam. We continued on towards Matera, via la vecchia strada, the old road which was literally what it was. It was as if he pavement had been dropped from the sky. I had already had an embarrassing stationary spill off my bike at the only major intersection in town in Gravina in Puglia whereby I ended up in the splits over my bike and at that very moment two handsome young men appeared much to my dismay. My dad then proceeded to ask him if anyone had ever told him he looked like Bono (bearing in mind I have to translate this nonsense) to which he replied no, as he looked nothing like Bono (as I type my dad is insisting he was his spitting image - he wasn't).
But the best was yet to come. As we descended the hill we were treated to another truly delightful experience. Descending any hill when you are 10km from your ultimate destination is always a bad sign, as despite your hopes, there is always a hill to climb at the end. My dad had finally made his way ahead of me when two men in a tomato field started waving enthusiastically to pull over. This is one of the things guide books warn you about. Don't stop. This is a trap. My father is paranoid as it is, so god knows why he stopped but he did and thankfully this time there was no drama. You can see a photo of Franco in red below with the stoggie hanging from his mouth - I bet most of you wouldn't have stopped!
He came running toward us with a 10kg bag of tomatoes, freshly picked, urging us to fill our bags. His partner then started grabbing melons from the ground, peeling and cutting them with a pocket knife and we ended up spending half an hour with the sun setting behind us eating fresh tomatoes and melons. This was our introduction to Basilicata, the province next to Puglia that we had dropped into for a quick detour. The people here are fiercely proud of their land, their way of life, and their history yet not afraid to share it with anyone who passes through.
By this stage we were in sight of the prize, our room for the night, but worryingly so we were still 15km from our hotel (you must double any estimates you have of how far you are from your destination - things are never as straight forward as they seem). In summary we ended up on a mini freeway with multiple entrances and exits before being treated to a 5km mountain climb, in the dark, with some of our state of the art lighting failing us. Suddenly our survival instinct kicked in and the muscles coooperated whilst the brain calculated how close to the edge we could wander without falling off the side or conversely into traffic.
We arrived safely in Matera, a bit later than expected but to a great B&B, a phenomenal ancient city (panoramic photos below), some entertaining and well educated Americans, of course great food, a day of rest save for the endless stairs, and clean laundry. Another adventure to add to the collection and hopefully more tomorrow when we are back on piste towards the burrata capital of Puglia!
No comments:
Post a Comment