Today’s must have been the hardest ride of the tour so far - with 5,400’ of climbing in only 42 miles, it certainly was the hilliest. The main thing though was the weather - a very forceful southeast wind buffeted us constantly all day, and the skies during the afternoon grew quite ominous. Several times during the day I thought our prospects were becoming grave, and I would not have been surprised to find us thoroughly soaked and hypothermic with still too many miles left to reach our room. It all added up to a rather harrowing experience.
Paradoxically though, since we were luckier than we deserved and arrived dry at the end of the day, I think we’ll also look back on this as one of the best days of the tour. We certainly feel like we shared an exceptional experience that we aren’t likely to forget. All day long we biked past fields blowing like a green river running uphill. All day long, we listened to the wind howl and moan and power lines sing, and came to a bend in the road or a gap in the terrain that would face us with a sudden gust strong enough to bring us to a near standstill. For several hours we were unnerved by mercurial skies that seemed to change on a moments notice. Twice, we scrambled for shelter when rain started to break out, only to have it stop almost the instant we were protected. It all felt so raw and elemental.
At the end of the day, we’re very content. We’re high up - about 3,200’ - in a picturesque mountain village, fat and happy after an excellent meal (my agnolotti with mushrooms and walnuts ranks as my favorite pasta of the tour), and safe and dry in our comfortable room as we see the rain pour down inside. As good as it gets.
The photos don’t really quite capture the character of the day. The video is better.
Leaving Caltanissetta, with the last of this morning’s showers still slick on the streets.
After climbing through three or four miles of Caltanissetta’s suburbs, we finally escape the city. It’s still hazy, but the weatherman has assured us that a dry but very windy day is ahead.
These bright green photos are a bit of a misrepresentation. Much of the day was quite dark and grey, but I just brought the camera out during the occasional brighter spells.
After gradually climbing for about fifteen miles since leaving Caltanissetta, we begin a sharp descent to one of the tributaries of the Salso River. I’m surprised to learn that the Salso is the longest in Sicily, rising in the Madonie Mountains (still ahead of us to the north) and emptying to the sea at Licata on the south coast.
We’re biking on another road filled with character. It’s not clear which side is best here - Rachael goes right while I go left, and we’re both rewarded with cleats clogged with mud.
The dry day we were promised looks like a fantasy now. The skies around us grow gloomier by the mile. With a fierce, ceaseless 25 mph crosswind and temperature in the low fifties, we’re getting a bad feeling about the day.
In early afternoon we descend to the small town of Resuttano, hoping to find something open on this holiday afternoon. We’re in luck - a trattoria has its open sign out, meaning only that its door is unlocked. There’s no one here, but we need shelter from the wind and cold so we walk inside, close the door, and eat our lunch.
After bottoming out at Resuttano, we start the long, gradual climb toward the Madonie mountains. Much of the rest of the day is spent on this moderately distressed carless road. It would be a great ride if we weren’t worried about rain and feeling beaten down by the howling wind.
For a distressed road, it is really in quite good shape with only the occasional bad patch. And, at the moment we’re enjoying one of the few brief sunny breaks of the day. Within a few minutes it will be dark grey again, and then lightly raining, and then hailing. And windy enough to almost stop us in our tracks on occasion.
Somewhere around here the sky grew ominously dark, and the wind really picked up - maybe 35 mph - and felt like it would blow us off the road. It began lightly raining, maybe even hailing. We dashed for the only shelter in sight, an abandoned stone structure, and hid on the leeward side. The video below was shot there - I wanted to give you a sense of the wind, but it’s blowing so loudly you can’t hear me talk. Just a minute later, it was fine and we biked off again.
Nearing our destination, we look down on the village of Blufi. A mile back, I was sure we were going to get plastered by a rainstorm, but suddenly it’s quite nice again - for about the next ten minutes.
Petralia Sottana finally comes into view. Notice the sky though. We pick up the pace for the last few miles, blown uphill by a fierce tailwind. We just make it to the village dry, and a loud thunderclap announces our entrance to town. Half an hour later it is pouring out.
Petralia Sottana is all stone, and not easily entered. We had to walk our way up its steep stone streets to enter town, and then down an even steeper one to our room. And, by now it’s lightly raining and the stones are getting quite slick.
Deja vu all over again! Like a few days ago, here we are cowering under a skinny overhang hiding from the rain, waiting for our host to arrive and let us in.
After thawing out, we walk back out into the village during a loud thunder and lightning show to Il Castello, the restaurant we’ve been assured is open. We’re a bit shocked at how full of character this small town is. A great overnight stop.
After an excellent meal, we walk back to our room through the secluded stone streets of the village. Petralia Sottana has quite a complex and confusing plan, for such a small place - lots of narrow crooked lanes and staircases. An easy place to get lost on a dark and stormy night.
Scott AndersonTo Jacquie GaudetWe got rid of the cages about five years ago. We use Clikr’s, a Shimano pedal that work really well for us. They’re not real clip-ins, but hold well and are super easy to engage and disengage. The cleats are recessed into the soles of our SPD shoes, so you can walk with them completely normally. Reply to this comment 5 years ago
Jacquie GaudetTo Scott AndersonThat I know; I've been using SPD shoes for years because I found the tops of toe clips uncomfortable on my toes, though maybe that was because I didn't like to tighten the straps. I remember asking why you didn't use SPDs but I suspect your switch was related to the unavailability of small toe clips when you had to replace Rachael's. Reply to this comment 5 years ago
Scott AndersonTo Jacquie GaudetI don’t recall now for sure, but it was after Rachael’s accident. We had tried real clipless pedals a few years earlier, but they didn’t really work for either of us - we always felt at risk of toppling over at a stoplight. A friend suggested Click’rs after her crash, and we both liked them immediately.
Sharon PledgerWhat a day's ride! You were greatly rewarded by arriving dry in such a scenic town and enjoying a great meal. My husband likes to refer to our hardest, most challenging rides on our tours as " Epic!" We certainly remember those "Epic" days many years later. Reply to this comment 5 years ago
Scott AndersonTo Sharon PledgerEpic is exactly right. These are the ones that really stick with you, alright. If we remember one ride out of this month in Sicily, it will be this one. Reply to this comment 5 years ago
Ron SuchanekThat John Hyatt song captures the mood of a windy, stormy day perfectly. Reminded me of a few we had in South Dakota. Reply to this comment 5 years ago
Rachael AndersonTo Ron SuchanekThanks although the weather you encountered was much more extreme! You and Jen are very tough, much tougher than us! Reply to this comment 5 years ago
Ron SuchanekTo Rachael AndersonThat's nice of you to say, but you're the ones still on the road and we are sitting in suburbia on our arses! Reply to this comment 5 years ago
