In Mattinata, day two

May 2, 2023

We’re in Mattinata for three nights as a bailout while we sit out the rain, but it’s turned out to be a much more enjoyable stay than we’d anticipated. We really like the town, we loved yesterday’s hike, and we got enough of a break in the weather today for a decent hike as well. This time we followed a second route north from town, a lane that eventually becomes a footpath zigzagging up the side of Monte Sacro into the national park. The walkable path is shorter than yesterday - not much more than four miles round trip - but it’s also a more gradual climb and at least as enjoyable. We turn back when the path deteriorates further into an overgrown grassy route further up into the hills that in today’s conditions is just too wet with our footwear. I test it out by walking maybe fifty yards, which is enough to thoroughly soak my shoes and socks.

Once we’re out of town the nature of today’s walk is different. we enjoy similarly impressive views back toward town and the sea, but see no donkeys, horses or free range cattle wandering in the road. Instead we’re in woods most of the way, our path lined with colorful road cuts and an impressive diversity in the wildflowers.

We both thoroughly enjoyed our walk, which for much of the way we took alone at our own pace; but for me the day will be best remembered for seeing a flock of about a half dozen bee-eaters putting on an aerial show high above. Bee-eaters are astonishly colorful birds that win my vote for the prettiest bird species in Europe. I’ve only knowingly seen them once before, and was secretly envious when the Grampies spotted one in Portugal earlier this spring.

I knew i was seeing a different, unfamiliar species as soon as I heard them gyrating high above. Superficially their flight reminds me of swifts or swallows but it’s really quite different, more of a flap and glide; and their shape is unique - their body is heavier than than a swallow, their wings delta shaped in a way that to me suggests a fighter jet. I watched them for long enough - at least five minutes, maybe ten - to really take it in. I feel confident that I’d recognize them in the distance the next time I see them.

But I still had no idea what they were. I waited that long holding the camera focused on the sky in hopes that one would swoop low and near enough that I could snag enough of an image to identify them. At last, about the time I was ready to give up and move on, one alit on a wire perhaps seventy yards away. I didn’t miss my chance, and almost gasped when I zoomed in for a shot.

#139: European bee-eater. My vote for the most attractive bird in Europe.

That was enough to make the day, but there was more. Returning to town later and walking past a small lemon grove I spotted a pair of tiny birds fluttering in a thicket. Rachael’s been long-gone by now and the rain is still holding off, so I’m in no hurry. I pull out the camera, focus on the branches and shadows where there’s occasional movement to be seen, and wait and hope. My arms and hands are getting achy by the end, and I take about a dozen shots hoping there’s enough of a bird exposed in one of them to figure it out. Exactly one shot is successful, I’m pleased to see when I’m back in the room later.

It takes me a good twenty minutes trying to figure out what I’ve seen. It’s small, grey, looks like the bushtits we see back home - except Europe doesn’t have these. I find a website with a complete checklist and an extensive photo gallery of the birds of the Gargano, and finally find it - a spotted flycatcher. There’s really no other bird found here to confuse it with, so I feel confident.

#140: Spotted flycatcher. This little guy cost me at least ten minutes waiting for him to finally come out in the open.

But that only accounts for maybe twenty minutes of a two or three hour hike. There’s plenty more, enough to make this a special outing for both of us. And we’ve both been pleased that walking three days in a row has worked out for me and my knees. It really does seem to make a difference to be walking more frequently. Regardless of whatever comes of managing my arrythmia, I imagine walks will play a larger role in our lives as time goes on.

Leaving town. It doesn’t take long - here we’re maybe a quarter mile from our room.

Gargano is famous for the diversity of its orchids, so it’s a mild disappointment that the only one we find today is just another naked-man.

The walkable path ends at this no longer used shelter of some sort.

Really, shouldn’t every post have an interesting door shot?

Heading back. We’ll meet back up at the room later.

We get a different look at the town and sea from this angle.

So that accounts for just a few hours of our day. For the rest, we occupy it staying dry in our room and passing the time in the usual way. Rachael reads a mystery, I cull through photos and update the blog, and together we plan out the next steps in our lives. On this, we can report that we have a plan for the coming days. We canceled our two night stays in Vieste and Rodi Garganico as soon as we realized we were staying here; and we’ve booked new accommodations for the next two nights to get ourselves back on schedule. Essentially, we’re going to backtrack and go around the western side of the promontory, staying in the flats. Tomorrow we’re back in Manfredonia again, and the next night we’ll be in San Severo. After that we’ll be back on schedule in Lesina.

At 7:30 we’re back on the street again, heading off to a different restaurant. Tonight it’s Dal Saraceno, and another meal we’re thoroughly pleased with. Rachael starts with an imaginative and varied tray of grilled vegetables and I have a bowl of bean soup, and then we each have our own modestly sized sea bream. Afterwards we walk across the street for pistacchio gelato and head back to the room.

In Dal Saraceno, waiting for our third fine meal in as many days. We like Mattinata!

And, of course, there’s off and on discussion during the day and over dinner about my arrythmia episodes, which today at least feel less troubling than when the last one occurred. Over dinner I remembered that I had a significant episode near here four years ago when we were biking inland from Lesina to Venosa. Later I’ll reread the post from that day and be reminded that it was at least as bad or worse than any we’ve experienced on this tour, lasting a full two hours and leaving us wondering if we’d make it to Venosa before dark when it suddenly and mysteriously ceased. Then, as happened this time, we ended the day wondering if the tour could even continue.

In an odd way I was comforted by this, as a reminder that this is after all nothing new even though episodes have been occurring more frequently lately. After all, I’ve been living with this condition for most of my life now - I didn’t recognize what was happening at the time but I’m pretty sure my first episode was in 1980, when I was on a tour of the North Cascades a month or two after Mount Saint Helens erupted. So who knows what this really means for Team Anderson in the future? Too soon to tell.

____________________

2023 Bird List

139. European bee-eater

140. Spotted flycatcher

Rate this entry's writing	Heart	11
Comment on this entry	Comment	2

Eva WaltersIt's great that you two are staying so positive and adaptable in the face of various difficulties. Definitely glass half full! You could never have predicted that your stay in Mattinata would have worked out so well--a bit of serendipity brought on by your positive attitude. I look forward to reading your journal post every day!
Reply to this comment
1 year ago

Scott AndersonTo Eva WaltersThanks, Eva. Attitude is everything, isn’t it? It’s hard to feel sorry for ourselves for too long when we’re lucky enough to be in such an exceptional spot.
Reply to this comment
1 year ago