In Grottaglie: our luck with the weather runs out

April 19, 2023

We’re in a pattern here. For three days in a row we’ve anticipated a complete rainout and have been pleasantly surprised to wake up and see there’s enough of a window that a ride seems reasonable. For the last two days it was barely enough for us to fit our short ride to our next base. Today it looks even better, with a five or six hour dry spell that’s plenty for a day ride for myself and a hike for Rachael. I map out routes for each, and we both start off about ten.

Scott’s ride

For myself I’ve put together a 30 mile balloon-shaped route that bikes northwest through the flats before coming to the base of a ridge and climbing up a plateau. Nothing too strenuous, though it includes about a mile climb at 10-11% ascending the face of the plateau, the most challenging climb I’ve tackled since leaving Sicily. If I’d been paying more attention when drawing it I’d have reversed the route, since the climb going the other direction is more gradual.

After a short drop out of town it’s a very lazy climb for the next seven miles, passing old olive trees and vineyards wrapped in plastic most of the way. The vineyards are a new touch and it’s of course nice to see so much more sun this morning, but other than that it’s similar to the country we’ve been passing through for the past several days so I don’t find many reasons to stop.

About two miles into the ride I’m stopped for a call from Rachael, sounding rather frantic as she tells me she’s abandoning her planned route even though it’s beautiful because it’s rife with menacing dogs. She needs me to talk her down off the wall, and to let me know that she’s following a different plan now.

This is the first time I’ve seen vineyards under a canopy like this. Nearly all of them I pass this morning are like this. Is this a new idea, maybe to promote early growth?

Many of the old olive trees catch my attention, looking like they’ve been standing here since the Romans marched through.

Sanctuaria di Santa Maria della Mutata, the only non-agricultural structure I’ll pass before climbing up the plateau.

Old massaria. I muddied my shoes walking around for a better look.

I’ve seen the climb coming from several miles away and am looking forward to it for the views and because I’m curious to see what’s up top because it’s protected as a natural park.

Here it comes. The road bends left and angles up the face before doubling back. The seam you see at the top is the course of the upper half of the switchback.

Most of the way up, and stopped here at the best view point.

The view, back in the direction I’ve come from. The white patches are all plasticized vineyards. Hmm - is there a bit of rain out there?

It’s much different up on top. There’s a lot to see - a garrigue-like landscape with a profusion of wildflower displays. Most surprisingly, I see trulli! We left the coastal plain before entering the Itria Valley where they’re prolific around Alberobello especially, so I didn’t expect to see any on this tour. I didn’t realize they could be found in the uplands too.

Another old wreck, again in the characteristic Puglian peuce.

They’re an interesting architectural solution: just tack on a new trullo when the family enlarges or you want to give grandpa his own space.

I’m starting to feel uncertain about the weather as I continue north across the plateau for a short distance. I’m glad when I come to the junction for my left turn so I can start turning back toward town, imagining that the weather behind is fairer.

The next few miles are the most spectacular of the day, as my empty road rolls along between stone walls with astonishingly colorful meadows opening up on the other side. I’m excited by it for today, and also for the days ahead when we’ll be biking through higher country still.

Gloomy ahead. I’m glad to be turning left here.

This pasture ran on like this for about a quarter of a mile.

And then, abruptly, the fun ends. Showers break out, light at first and then increasingly insistent. it’s a broken sky, so I pick up the pace hoping I’ll get ahead of the cloud I’m under and break into a clearing, cursing lying Weather.com as I go. It doesn’t happen though, and I’m in the rain for the next twelve miles.

The one good thing in all this is that it’s nearly all downhill back to town, so I make excellent time as I descend back off the plateau with darkness all around and the occasional thunderbolt or rumble to make me anxious as I count down the remaining miles and hope I get home without getting zapped.

Well, actually there are other good things. The road surface is reasonable, visibility is as good as can be expected (few blind curves, for example) and there is very little traffic until I finally near town nearly an hour later. So I can keep a good pace, as fast as feels safe in the wet road conditions. And it’s not cold, so once I’m thoroughly soaked and there are puddles in my shoes it really doesn’t matter that it’s still raining because I can’t get any wetter than I am already.

Entering town is a revelation, as the last mile back to the hotel is the worst of all even though the rain is finally lightening up. There’s the traffic of course, but the real issue is the water on the road. When I first come to town the road is completely under water for perhaps forty or fifty yards, in a lake that wasn’t here when I passed through going the other way three or four hours ago. It’s wall to wall, so there’s no option other than to bike straight through it, hoping it doesn’t get too deep or slick. Fortunately the oncoming and trailing cars are very considerate, giving me all the time I need to get safely through.

In the middle of the lake the phone rings. It’s undoubtedly Rachael checking in to see how I’m doing, but under the circumstances I decide to ignore it. It doesn’t seem like the place to stop and stand with both feet submerged, answering the phone and holding up traffic. I’ll be home soon enough anyway, if I don’t drown first.

And then it’s uphill back to the apartment, biking up one street after another that is completely covered by a shallow rushing river. What is it with the drainage system in this town? I’ve never seen another place like it.

Finally I’m home, where Rachael meets me at the door and takes in my sodden socks and shoes while I collapse the bike and carry it inside. And so I get my answer to the question I’ve been rhetorically asking the last few days - how wet can you get on a bike in twelve miles? Very wet.

Not so bad, really. A very nice 18 mile ride, followed by another 12 miles of Type 2 fun. We were due for a break in our spell of good luck, really.

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Ride stats today: 31 miles, 1,800’; for the tour: 620 miles, 34,000’

Rachael’s hike

On our way to dinner the previous night, we encountered some aggressive stray dogs that had to be called off by a shop owner so we could pass. I’ve had a fear of dogs for a long time after being bitten and after Scott’s really bad wound. Little did I know that this would be a major issue for the hike I had planned for today. The beautiful walking trail along the cliffs soon led to several large dogs that wouldn’t let me pass! I found a way to map around the area but ran into more stray dogs running at me. I called Scott to let him know I was not going to follow my mapped route.

The dogs were a continuing problem until I found a road with cars on it. Fortunately, there were few cars and they were very careful. On my way back at 3.5 miles from our place, it started raining hard and there was lightening. The roads had some water but I could get around most of the puddles. The worst part was when I got back to town and the roads were completely flooded. I was thoroughly soaked by the time I got back! Scott arrived about a half hour later, also soaked. I was so glad he made it back safely!

Beautiful cliffs ahead on my walking route!

Guard Dog ahead! Little did I know he would send a pack of dogs my way.

Today's ride: 31 miles (50 km)
Total: 620 miles (998 km)

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Jacquie GaudetMakes me think of arriving in Saintes in 2019. The little arched pedestrian bridge had water flowing down both sides a couple of inches deep within a few minutes of the rain starting.
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1 year ago

Amber StarfireI'm also terrified of dogs and usually carry a can of pepper spray with me. I've never used it yet, and I doubt it would have helped in your situation, but ugh. Glad you both arrived "home" safely.
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1 year ago

Susan CarpenterWater and wandering dogs, not the best things to encounter on a ride or hike. Glad you both made it back, wet - but safe.
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1 year ago

Rachael AndersonTo Amber StarfireI have carried pepper spray and I probably should get some more, although, it’s the first time I’ve had the issue here. I think it was a problem with this town!
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1 year ago

Rachael AndersonTo Susan CarpenterIt definitely a relief getting back, especially when Scott made it back!
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1 year ago

Lyle McLeodTo Rachael AndersonFree ranging (maybe even feral) dogs are certainly a worry. I don’t think it was just the town. On our 2019 ride we had a number of encounters with unfriendly and uncontrolled dogs throughout Basilicata and Puglia. Happy to hear you were unscathed.
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1 year ago

Rachael AndersonTo Lyle McLeodThanks. I did another hike today and actually had a dog befriend me! It was a much nicer encounter.
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1 year ago