Motorhome News from Europe 17

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Motorhome News from Europe 17.

Italy/ Sicily. February 2005
A week in Sicily visiting the land of wine, lemons and the Godfather



Delayed by an unfortunate accident shortly after leaving Paestum on the coast where we had spent the previous night, we didn’t get to Sicily on Monday as previously planned, but camped few miles short to await the morning ferry. Stopped in traffic in the main street of Agropoli, a lady in the car behind fell asleep (or was she on the telephone which most of them are, most of the time?) and drove straight into the back of us. A local policeman helped with the exchange of details.
‘Buon giorno, buon giorno, buon giorno’, he said, rocking gently back and forth on his heels. ‘Wassa goin on ere-a eh?’ We later discovered he had worked at the Italian Embassy in London for a while and clearly knew the police language for such circumstances. Anyway, no great damage that can’t be put right back in the UK, mostly fibreglass and nobody hurt, but we lost a couple of hours of the day and ended up on a site at Palmi on the west coast around Italy’s instep, in the early evening. It’s just 25 minutes by ferry from San Giovani across the water to Messina in Sicily.




You know when you have arrived in Sicily; the roads are blocked with hooting traffic and parked cars, street vendors and crazy road-signs. It was hell getting out of the port at Messina, but by the time we reached the beautiful hillside town of Taormina on the eastern coast, with its smart shops, and a spectacular Greek Theatre with views across the bay to the beaches of Giardini Naxos and the snow-capped peaks of Mount Etna, the sun was shining and our spirits high. The Greeks were here some time ago; around the 8th Century BC and evidence of their presence and the Romans who followed, is abundant.
Janice eventually picked up the family cold, the result of living in confined circumstances, and she would need looking after over the next few days. Our campsite was set in the shade of the lemon trees just 100 metres from the sea. It was warm enough for us to walk along the sandy shore in short sleeves, sharing a mile of sand with just a couple of fishermen, the warmth of the sun seeping gently into our bones and the lemon groves were awash with the primrose yellow of Bermuda buttercups alongside fields of potatoes and broad beans.



Mount Etna follows you around along this easterly coast and ultimately it lures every traveller into its trap. There is a road that traverses its base and we chose this ‘safe’ route to avoid the obvious perils of the snow at this time of year. But by lunchtime we were bored with the monotony of the untidy winter landscape of lava- stone walls and vine, olive and lemon terraces, and derelict houses lost forever, the population set to dwindle as youth sets sail for prospect and prosperity. And Etna; above the broad vista of lava, black and sombre, home only to the Sicilian genista, and small copses of pollarded beach, grey smouldering clouds puff gently from the summit as the dragon sleeps, and the smoke from a wood-fire sails northwards on the cool Sicilian breeze over the snowy wasteland. We finally succumbed to the spell of Etna and drove through the single track snow-ploughed road to the base of the ski-lift, to join the few other revellers with the same spirit of adventure. The roadside snow was higher than smiley at times, still pristine white from the nights’ snowfall. You don’t get this sort of experience sitting in an armchair! Hair raising, but deliriously exciting.

Bypassing Catania and Sircusa to the south, we followed the road out to
C Murro di Porco, a scruffy lighthouse with a good record for passing migratory birds. It was hellishly windy and overcast, but we did get to see our first ever, blue rock thrush! We searched for days to find one of these in Spain without success - and this one sat on a fence waiting for us. A little further south there is a superb bird reserve at Stagno di Vendicari. We had read about this in our book, and were met at the gate by an elderly warden and we chatted for a while, he in Italian and us in English, I signed his book to say we were from the RSPB and off we went to investigate the shallow pools and hides. Here we spent a great couple of hours with sadly insufficient time for more, but Spoonbill, Rupell’s warbler, Pintail, Flamingoes, Pochard, Teal, Shoveller, a couple of Kingfishers - and lots more, made our day. Each and every day has its silver lining and we held on to the moment.

That particular moment didn’t last for long, as yet another campsite was closed that evening, and too late to move on to the next site a further 50 miles along the coast. On the way out of town Janice spotted three other campers, two German and one Italian, on a huge car park and we joined them for the night, elated by our good fortune. From time-to-time, we feel we need a bit of that.
The south coast here is very reminiscent of Almeria in southern Spain with a huge area under plastic producing early fruits, salads and vegetables. But here, the greenhouses and cloches are neat and well finished, of good design and, in particular, there is no litter to be seen beside the roads here. The fields along the coast form a carpet of small plots, of oranges, lemons, almonds, olives, artichokes, vines and fruit trees edged with huge prickly pear hedges and patches of tall reed along the bottom of the valleys and in ditches. Here too, the grass is green, the soil rich and brown, supporting a wide range of agriculture.



There is more evidence of the Greek presence at Agrigento, where the Valley of the Temples stretches along a narrow limestone ridge between the town of Agrigento and the sea. This is a fantastic extravaganza of ancient temples, ten in all, high on the skyline; and it ranks amongst the most impressive complexes of ancient Greek buildings outside Greece. These Doric temples date from the 5th Century BC, and today nine out of ten of them are still visible.

It rained on-and-off for most of Sunday, but it didn’t spoil our enjoyment to any great degree. We have had remarkably few rainy days on our travels and at least it’s warmer now on North African latitudes. The Sicilians tell us that this is their worst winter for years, but who are we to complain? - we hear it’s snowing at home!
The angry sea was hammering the narrow sandy beach by our campsite in the morning as we left and headed inland from the wine region of Menfi, crossing the island towards Palermo and the northeast coast. Just a mile from our campsite the winding road up the hill had subsided leaving a gaping hole and a 12inch drop across the middle of the road. We closed our eyes and kept going! Half a mile on, there was a sign saying, ‘road closed’ but facing in the opposite direction!

Inland we crossed the broad fertile hills, their folds ribbed with a hundred shades of green, yellow and brown in a huge checkerboard of immaculate vineyards on a treeless landscape. Such is the pleasure of taking to the minor roads across the countryside, where the land is a living tribute to the labours of man and the character of the people. It’s Sunday and groups of men are on the fields pruning the vines in readiness for another vintage. There are no women in Sicily. At least, they are not evident in the countryside.

Our plan to visit the Nature Reserve at Zingaro in the hope of seeing Bonelli’s eagles was thwarted by yet another landslide on the road just before the entrance, the stricken road subsided and threatening total collapse over the edge. Here, the sign said ‘2.5ton limit’, which by then was too late of course, as we had nowhere to turn round. We took a run at it - OK, (we’re 3.0 tons plus), but then decided to turn back to keep within the law. You can tell by now I guess, that we are none too pleased with Sicilian signing! Along the north coast, the sea was calm, blue as blue and the long sandy beaches deserted where the magnificent limestone hills erupt steeply from the sea; a long high ridge, patterned in black and white like the scaly back of an angry iguana.
Janice’s cold had much improved and there was a smile on her face once again. Life’s tough for someone who doesn’t fall ill too easily! We’re now just outside Palermo resting for a day and doing the washing. Tomorrow, we’ll be venturing into town by bus to see the sights and enjoy the sounds and smells of the capital city. There’s the odd guy in the black suit, the dark glasses, the white tie and the wide brimmed trilby on every street corner, but apart from that, you wouldn’t know the Mafia existed.



David and Janice
The Grey Haired Nomads

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Photos

Sicily
street scene -

Mt Etna
forever on the boil

The road up to Mt Etna
..we should not have been there!

inland Sicily
a land of immense beauty

Sicily
Agrigento - the Valley of the Temples

Sicily
Broad fertile hills