We really did bike like the wind today. I’ll follow this up by writing like the wind too, so don’t expect any great travel writing here today - just some super-speedy scribbling to keep in the spirit of the day.
We outdid ourselves this morning, checking out of our hotel by the unheard of time of 8:30. Our impetus? The weather - rains, occasionally heavy, are threatened to roll in by late morning. We start early, aiming to get in as much of the ride as we can before then - every dry mile is a good mile, in our accounting.
It’s another easy ride, other than that - 40 miles, minimal climbing, and a good tailwind. We’re blown quickly through the Alta Murgia for the first fifteen miles of the ride, flying through the same fantastic, empty high plain landscape that I so loved on the way in to Altamura two days ago. The road is smooth, the traffic spare, the miles click by quickly and effortlessly.
We love the silence too - especially of our bikes, which for the first time in a week are well adjusted and spin smoothly and silently. Without her gears to curse at, Rachael soon reverts to her usual list of complaints: I put less air in her tires than mine; I won’t oil her rusty chain; I keep sneaking bricks into her panniers to slow her down a bit.
The Alta Murgia - what a fantastic landscape to spin through!
She’s out there somewhere, around the bend and down in that slight depression. Also out there is a darkening sky. We’re starting to see a few spots ahead that appear to be raining, but we’re not wet yet. Every dry mile is a good mile.
About fifteen miles into the ride we cross a low rise, pas over the high point of the day, and begin our descent to the sea. Soon the trees return, and soon after we reach at the outskirts of Ruvo di Puglia, our first milestone of the ride. We’re doing great, and on track to reach Trani before noon. The skies suggest the rains may get there first though, so we aren’t tempted to slow down and look at the town’s attractions - a shame, because Ruvo has one of the more important collections of historical structures in Puglia.
So that’s twice. We biked through Ruvo last time also, and gave it the same minimal attention on our overlong ride to Trani from Locorotondo. Next time, for sure. Autumn 2022, on The Big 75 tour- Ruvo is definitely on the list.
Soon we’re back in the olive groves. If you’ve seen one olive grove you’ve seen them all; and you have by now, so no need to stop. Keep flying.
Well, I do have to stop for this. I remember this road and its fine cypress columns extending to infinity from our first time through. Then as now, I want to bike through it down to Molfetta - but it’s the wrong direction, and too busy. Our empty lane angling to the north is a much better ride.
We reach the sea at Bisceglie. Miraculously, the dark clouds we’ve been racing toward have parted and we arrive in a window of sunshine. I know nothing about Bisceglie and have no expectations, but a pretty church tempts us to slow down a bit and detour through its small old quarter on our way to the waterfront. We’re surprised and briefly captivated by the narrow lanes, its weathered cathedral, and its clean, unspoiled waterfront. Puglia - so full of surprises. There’s a lot to see here - it would make a fine leisurely lunch stop or even an overnight, if there’s lodging.
The remaining miles from Bisceglie to Trani are a fine ride, following a beautiful blue ribbon of a bike lane nearly all the way to our destination. With a tailwind still, the final miles go quickly; until they don’t. Just over a mile from our destination, we’re nailed - a few sprinkles come down, then it’s a shower, and within under a minute it’s a deluge. We’re lucky to be just passing a narrow overhang so we quickly leave the road, take cover, and wait for it to pass by.
It’s an amazing cloudburst. We’re stopped near a low point in the road, and within minutes the road turns to a river with enough depth that a pop can flows down it. Large cars with a high clearance drive straight through, spraying out a large wake; and smaller ones slow down to a crawl to avoid flooding.
The rain stops soon, but there’s so much water in the road that we wait another five minutes for some of it to run off, and even then we continue on the sidewalk, dodging pedestrians and large puddles and biking carefully on the slick bricks for the last mile to town.
For most of the way from Bisceglie to Trani we follow this fine bike path. Ignore those dark clouds, I counsel Rachael. We’ve only got five miles to go. Plenty of time.
We finally puddle-weave our way to the Trani waterfront, arriving dry - but just barely. As soon as we reach town the next wave hits and we quickly and gratefully wheel our bikes under the canvas of a restaurant we’re being beckoned to. We lean our bikes against an outdoor table and then head inside for lunch, while we wait out the storm. It’s not the most inspired lunch, but we don’t mind at all. It’s great to be dry, with food in front of us and close to the indoor plumbing.
Trani is a beautiful place - half tourist resort, half fishing harbor.
An hour later, we leave the restaurant. Our room is ready - we’ve been advised that we can check in as early as one. We won’t go just yet though, because the rains have returned just as we are finishing our meal. We huddle under the canvas for a few minutes until it eases up, and finally make our break.
The rest of the afternoon is much the same story. Safe in our room, we dry out, shower, and lie around watching the sky outside the window alternately lighten and darken and listening to the rain pound on the window. Conditions gradually seem to stabilize though, and by four I can’t take it any more and want to go see the town. We grab an umbrella from the hall, walk through old town to Trani’s great seaside cathedral, and once again are pinned to the wall by another incredible cloudburst.
Eventually though it really does stabilize, and we get to see a bit of the town. I especially enjoy the waterfront by the old city, which is vey much a fisherman’s quarter. The quay is lined with trays of fresh seafood being sold off the back of boats coming in to unload their varied catch of the day. The foot traffic is a nice mix of fishermen, local shoppers, and spectators eying squeamishly at the slimy and still writhing creatures on display.
At sundown we head down to the waterfront again, are pulled into a nice waterfront table, and enjoy a good and reasonable meal of eggplant parmigiana and grilled spigola as we watch the night darken and the lights come on around the harbor.
I love the boats in fishing towns like this. They all look like custom, hand-built jobs.
Not seen here is a five year old girl trying to get up the nerve to touch this thing. They even tempt her with a smaller one, tiny enough to fit in the palm of her hand, but she’s not having it.
Trani is also a tourist town, and the big wheel is just going up for the season. This must be somebody’s idea of a dream job, climbing up to the hub of this giant.
