Notwithstanding this, I was immediately treated like royalty, invited to have my morning meal served while relaxed on a sofa and given a whole list of food and drink options, with Loredana toing and froing for my requirements: pastries (trellicine, cornetti, …), yogurts, fresh strawberries, orange juice and cappuccino. Had I wanted, cereals and milk were also available.

By 10:00 I was on the saddle, my body’s energy stores adequately replenished and, thankfully, without the need of a weighty rucksack! In lieu of this, I had a waist bag to carry the essentials, listed here in no particular order:
=> video cam
=> head torch
=> wallet
=> spare batteries
=> security chain
=> tissues
=> wet wipes
=> fig rolls
=> extra water bottle (only one cage on the bike)
=> notebook
=> pencil

For this week of touring, I had decided that direction would take priority over destination. Of course, I consulted my map each evening to see roughly where I would head the following day but this was only to have a general idea in which area of the Monti Iblei region to head towards. Today, it was Ferla and the nearby archeological park of Pantalica but should I have spotted an interesting side road, then I’d have had no qualms in riding it.

As it turned out, I did arrive at the entrance to Pantalica, which I reached after exiting Ferla and heading down a deserted, 11-kilometre, winding road, with only 250ml of water left on a day when the temperature was already climbing up the 30s. According to my 10-year old guide book, there should have been a kiosk near the entrance. “Should”, unfortunately, does not always hold much water with reality; it certainly didn’t help in replenishing my meagre fluid supply. Now, the only way was up and back to Ferla, a Calvary where even vinegar would have been a welcome alternative to bone-dry bottles.

Resurrection was to be found on a plastic chair on the sloping sidewalk outside Al Ranch bar, with the adjacent seat occupied by a 1.5 litre bottle of refridgerated water, a cool can of Coca Cola and two choc-filled sponge cakes. Church bells ring but my GPS shows it’s 13:52. They also rang 15 minutes earlier so it appears that time was out of synch in this hilltop town. And if it weren’t for these bells, there’d be little evidence of it’s passage, as the gents silently staring from some of the other chairs seem to confirm.

Cloud cover eased the ride back to Feudo Bauly and I cycled through the gate at 17:00, after having gone up and down 80kms worth of hills.

Video clip here: Nature scene

(For the previous part of this travelogue, click Part 3)

Interestingly,  the Italian word for “finish” – FINE - was sprayed across the chequered line as the road started to level off, unlike the START, which was now a distant stream of sweat away. The real end, however, was some twenty minutes later as I pushed the bike over a pathway of rough paving stones in the grounds of Feudo Bauly, the charming complex of converted stables and other farm buildings that was to be my touring base. The history, photos and more information about the place can be found on their official site: http://www.feudobauly.com/englishfeudobauly/feudo_bauly_hotel.html. For a video clip of my room, click here: Room 214.

I’ll be frank. There were a couple of minutes after I’d been shown to my room that I stood there, staring through the insect screen of the window, feeling utterly depressed. It had nothing to do with the room, which was more than adequate for my needs; nothing to do with the place, which deep down I knew I was fortunate to be at; nothing to do with the day so far, which was essentially trouble-free. The root of it all was the lack of food. My last decent meal was now nearly 24-hours earlier. I had breakfasted on a pear and along the way I energised myself with a few fig rolls. These I had to give up on because they weren’t moist enough, thus acting like a glue locking my jaws together and drying my mouth even more. I was also stinking so much that if  could, I wouldn’t have stood so close to my own self. Geographically I might have been at altitude but morale-wise I certainly wasn’t.

Feeling sorry for myself wasn’t going to fill my stomach with anything substantial so I showered, washed my dirty kit and put on a clean one. Back on the bike for the 6km ride into Palazzolo Acreide for the following reward: couscous (with aubergines, zucchini, tomatoes and potatoes), a spinach focaccia, a frutta marturana(a traditional marzipan sweet, this being in the shape of a fig) and the full set of carbonated drinks: Coke, Fanta, Sprite and Chino. In the meantime, I got into the daily habit of reading La Gazzetta dello Sport and did some more note taking.

Back at Feudo Bauly, I identified my favourite spot. This was an elevated terrace overlooking a well-kept lawn which led down to the pool area. Across the rarely traversed country road lay a private wood belonging to the hotel owners. So from my chair, the 2 dominant colours were green and blue - ever so relaxing for the eyes. And for the ears, a soundtrack of buzzing bumble bees, chirping birds and mooing cows. As the sun began to set, it dawned on me that this was one of the reasons why I was here.

I was content.

Arched gateway

Stairway to my room

(For the next part of this travelogue, click Part 4)

(For the previous part of this travelogue, click Part 2)