Goodbye Anapo, Resting Blue and the Last Day of Exploring Sicily

First, I must say that this will be our last day of exploring Sicily THIS TRIP.  As our friends and neighbors, Seth and Julia predicted, this amazing island at the tip of the boot has won our hearts.  We already are talking about what parts of Sicily we want to investigate on our next trip.  Our only adjustment may be to arrive about a month later (in April), for slightly warmer days.  But the wonder of enjoying Siracusa, Noto, Ragusa and the Anapo Valley mostly in the company of only Sicilians was a little magical -- and worth a jacket.  Note that almost every picture has great sunshine, so had we not been cycling, we likely would barely have noticed the weather.

This is the final post for this trip.  We're in Rome now for our rendezvous with school pals, double-checking return travel and exploring a bit on foot.  In less than 24-hours, we'll commence return travel.

*****************************

Last Team Shot (Taken at Sacre Pietra)

Little Blue: At rest after ~200 miles

Our final day of day of riding dawned clear and sunny.  Vincenzo kindly snapped a team shot of Team ABCD before we pedaled our way out of the Anapo Valley and rejoined time and traffic on the outskirts of Siracusa.  We got back to town and the Hotel Gutowski -- where we happily were reassigned to the same terrace room overlooking the sea -- just before the markets closed.

This happy circumstance allowed us to get one more plate of sweet Pachino tomatoes and market-fresh calamari (grilled out of doors while we sipped wine), for lunch before browsing the streets, sites and shops of Siracusa and Ortigia.  

Fishing Boats along the Siracusa - Ortigia Harbor

Since we spent our first day only in Ortigia, we headed back over one of the harbor bridges to Siracusa to visit the Roman Amphitheater and Greek Theatre.  The two sites (located very close to one another and only about a 30-minute walk from Ortigia) require just one ticket for admission and, in our view, well worth the 10 euro price.  Syracusa is rich in ancient history -- the home of both Plato and Pythagoros -- tand he includes the ruins of structures created from the 5th-2d centuries, BC.  The Roman amphitheater once the site of huge public sacrifices (to Zeus and other Roman deities) was surprisingly well preserved in structure and design.  I found it almost impossible to overlook the seats and theater below and not to recall all of the Roman gladiator movies from my youth.  Apparently, around 330 AD, the bloody performances came to an end and a kinder gentler Siracusa was born (ok, that last part is completely my desired result).

The Greek Theater in Siracusa

The Greek Theater, slightly larger and much more intact than the amphitheater, is amazing not only in design and construction, but also by virtue of the fact that Sicily still hosts classical theater programs on the site each summer.  Beginning in 1914, Sicily revived the performances of the ancient classics that debuted on the site over 2,500 years ago! 

Grotto de Museion

Orecchio di Dionisio

And just above the Greek Theater, we found the Grotto de Museion, where the aqueduct has flowed for thousands of years.  This was particularly interesting to us as Vincenzo (from the Anapo Valley) explained to us that the water in his well, which he showed us, also was sourced from this site.  Nearby, we visited the Orecchio de Dionisio -- an enormous limestone cave (whether man made or natural is an unsettled matter) where the Greeks are said to have held prisoners.  And if Orecchio sounds (no pun intended) familiar, it may be because it is the Italian word for ear.  Legend has it that the acoustics of the cave enabled Dionysius to hear the whispers of his most dangerous prisoners.  The other commonly repeated idea about the cave is that sounds echo sixteen times in the chamber.  While I don't know if that is true, what is true is that it seemed impossible to remain quiet in the cave (lots of hoo's and ooh's -- and we had it all to ourselves).

So, the journey was ending and all left to do was to collect a few gifts and art memories before organizing our bags for the movement toward Rome in the morning.  Shopping in Ortigia?  We recommend you investigate the ceramic work. These are many unique-to-Sicily items (finding it in Sicily does not mean you will also find it elsewhere in Italy). 

Love the caption here: "This is Art"

Early on the morning of 18 March, we bade farewell to A&B, and headed back to Catania for our flight to Rome.  At one point, a slightly fuming Mount Aetna appeared through the windshield of our cab.  Then, with a wave and a promise to return, we were gone.

Mount Aetna ahead as we approach Catania

Chip and Dale's Rome Reunion (The event that got Sicily on the calendar)

Hike no Bike

Our only cycling holiday day without cycling finds us pulling on hiking trousers and heading to the sunny terrace at Sacre Pietre for a true farm breakfast (complete with the resident ratters hanging around in hopes of a scrap of dropped ham or ricotta).  Our host, Vincenzo, who already has laid the breakfast table with a fresh checkered cloth and simple place settings -- arrives promptly pouring fresh squeezed orange juice from the farm.  He is an interesting man -- there is no apparent partner nor kids to help in his hosting duties, but the place is abuzz with painters and electricians.  Before we can finish our juice, Vincenzo brings hard boiled eggs (peeled and sliced) drizzled in olive oil (both the eggs and the oil are from the farm), toast and feather-cut ham.  Next to appear are fresh ricotta, tangerine (mandarin) marmalade, apples. kiwi and a delicious rustic pistachio torte.  Having only tested and dabbled at breakfasts prior to this, I eat wholeheartedly and relish every bite.

On our schedule today (dawning sunny and a bit warmer than the day before) is a hike into the island's largest necropolis, Pantalica.  Vincenzo draws a strip map to get us into the archeological site -- and also onto the path to the ancient Byzantine Village, high on a hilltop on a path that winds through the tombs and dwellings carved into the limestone walls of the magnificent Pantalica Gorge.  

Porcupine quills

The walk to the park entrance is about a kilometer and trips along a rutted dirt road through orange groves -- trees heavy with fruit.  For the next five or so hours we explore the paths and enjoy the quiet and beauty of the site at the confluence of the Bottiglera and Anapo Rivers.  The river banks and bed are littered with evidence of the harsh fall/winter floods that hit the region just months ago.  Great trees lay with exposed roots, stripped limbs still trailing in the powerful water.  Stands of bamboo are strewn like tinker toys in other places.  In ancient times these magnificent canyons provided safe shelter first, to the ancient kingdom of Hybla, and later to locals seeking refuge from Arab invasion.  The trees and brush are alive with the sounds of birds. Lizards dart along the canyon walls.  The occasional snake crosses our path. But the most amusing discovery in nature is the appearance of porcupine quills along the trails (and even in one of the three dark tunnels through which we pass.  Given that one quill is more than 6" long, we aren't necessarily sorry not to see its owner.

Caves at Pantalica

Given the quiet of the place, I have to wonder how many tourists ever visit Pantalica.  All day, we see only two farmers (managing orange and pistachios groves within a small section of the park) and one couple walking.  Between the rush of the Anapo River and the wind through the trees, this is among the most peaceful of places.  The fact that the white noise drowned out my tinnitus was pretty wonderful!  OK, I have to add that it feels good to have a day off the bike (to me anyway).

When we got back to the agristurismo, Vincenzo was standing by with wine and cheese.  Best yet, he poured himself a glass and joined us as we mingled English, German, Spanish and Italian to communicate.  We learned that Vincenzo has owned the agriturismo for six years.  Previously he managed (and maybe cooked) at the restaurant below.  He has three rooms (in addition to ours, there is one more, facing the sunrise), and is putting the finishing touches on a kitchen and dining room.  He lives in Sortino (the largest city in the valley), where he has four chickens, each of which efficiently lay just one egg each day.  He guides us into his orange grove and proudly points out his well, which he assures us finds its source at the Teatro fountain in Siracusa.

A determined plant finds a root hold in the canyon wall at Pantalica

Finally it's back to the restaurant below the agriturismo for dinner.  Pizza this time.  And if last evening was the longest dining experience, tonight is the LOUDEST!  Seated in the middle of the very crowded dining room full of Sicilian families and friends, we give up trying to converse and just settle into the hum and rhythm of the Italian language (to my ears perhaps the most beautiful of all tongues).

Cliff, Axel and Bettina at the top of the Ankytoron, Pantalica

Tonight, we don't even try the heat in our room. Instead, we pile two comforters on our bed and snuggle in for the last sleep-to-bike day.  Tomorrow our cycling loop terminates upon our return to Siracusa.

Into Anapo Valley

 

Wind turbines in the distance

Today's ride takes us 36 miles further into the interior -- and into the agricultural heart of the rich Anapo Valley.  Over breakfast, we talked about our biking route -- trying hard to dismiss the forecast of more high winds.  I'm beginning to see the irony of hoping for windless biking days when pedaling in the shadow of giant wind turbines turning across the mountaintops.  And rain?  No, we decide, leaving raincoats in our duffels for transport. Tempting the precipitation gods . . .  with predictable results!

The ride is a day of rolling hills through small villages, across rivers and finally into the orange and olive groves of the Anapo.  Each area through which we have pedaled is so different: From the coast (and traffic) of Siracusa into the quaint piazza-less stone garden of Noto, to the dual cities of Ragusa and now into the Anapo valley -- where time and traffic seem to disappear.

Gems of the Anapo

After an on-the-road lunch stop in Palazzolo (Cliff now is making the sampling of macco di favi into an art), where we tried our darnedest to hide out from the gathering clouds and looming rain, we began a long downhill into the valley.  Off the main road (and onto rutted farmers' tracks) we bounced deeper and deeper into the valley -- crossing the Anapo River and observing the cliffs of the Pantalica necropolis on the way to our Agriturismo: Sacre Pietre.

The charm of Sacre Pietre, I can hardly hope to communicate.  At the end of a dirt road and set among citrus trees (orange, lemon and tangerine) was a stunningly contemporary looking weathered structure (and for the sake of me, I don't know why I took neither a picture of the building nor of its delightful owner) with two lofted rooms overlooking orange groves and the setting sun.  And while each of our hosts has been kind and gracious, nowhere has there been a warmer or more authentic welcome than at Sacre Pietre.  A short, watch-capped man with weathered skin, a brilliant smile, an ever present cigarette (or e-cigarette) and very little English (but the heart of a host and the magic of a person who truly connects) showed us where to park our bikes, find our rooms (baggage already moved inside) and how to turn on our lights and heaters before offering wine and cheese on the terrace.  The quiet of this magical landscape was a respite from the hurry-up of cycling and the hustle of cities.  This location would turn out to be my favorite stop on our tour.

Sacre Pietre in the foreground (r) lush valley beyond

Although the Sacre Pietre Agriturismo is growing to include a kitchen and dining room, as of our visit, dinners were served at the local restaurant just about 250 meters down the hill.  On our first evening, we were all but lost between two very large parties of locals -- one apparently an anniversary of some sort, the other a large group (of mostly men), which we joked constituted the annual Orange Baron dinner.  We brusquely were seated and provided water and wine.  Despite never being offered a menu, within half an hour food began arriving at our table in waves (though far more than we could consume, it barely compared to the courses served the parties). This was by far the longest evening meal we experienced.  We finally escaped just before midnight -- returning to our rooms in the dark and the chill only to find no heat or electricity.  Luckily, the next day is a hiking day (the lone non-cycling day of our journey) and we plan to sleep in anyway -- perfetto!  G'night Anapo!

Replenshing in Ragusa Ibla

Macco di Favi

Hot showers and steaming bowls of macco di favi* (a delicious soup of pureed fava beans, basil and grated pecorino cheese) last evening helped us to thaw out from the long cold day's ride to Ragusa.  *If you've never tried macco di favi, and think Hannibal Lechter forever has turned you off to fava beans, this delectable soup may be just the thing to bring you back to the humble legume.  The combination (showers and soup) certainly worked to revive us for a day of exploring Ragus Ibla and for a ride to Modica to sample the renowned (and truly distinctive and delicious Modica chocolate).

San Giorgo Cathedral

First a word or two about Ragusa:  Another UNESCO World Heritage site -- Ragusa itself is a beautiful Baroque city built just above the old town site (Ragusa Ibla).  Ragusa was built on a high plateau above the ancient city mostly to suit the needs of the landed gentry (1700's) -- while the Ibla continued to sustain the way of life for the feudal nobles.  Our lodging was in Ragusa Ibla; and so, where we mostly explored and dined.  Like every Baroque city in this realm, Ragusa Ibla is built around its churches, the largest of which is the Cathedral of San Giorgio. San Giorgio commands the piazza of Ragusa Ibla with majestic stairs (oddly fenced off from entry) leading into a Baroque church with a beautiful duomo, amazing artworks and high in an alcove, a most impressive pipe organ -- the sounds of which we were blessed to overhear during a private tour for, we guessed a visiting musician.

If ever a sign said it all . . .

All along the piazza we found quaint shops and cafes -- with what I thought were some of the most creative and captivating signs.  We know we are lucky to be visiting Sicily early in the season as we experience no crowds and are taking photographs uninterrupted by all but the city's inhabitants.  It's really quite a magical time.

Just before noon, we settled back into our bike saddles under clear skies and set out to Modica (only about 12 miles away).  After yesterday, the idea of a shorter ride under clear skies is quite appealing -- except that 6 km switchback we cruised down yesterday (albeit in the wet and cold). We now must grind our way back up . . ..

Looking at Modica Alta from Modica Bassa

Arriving on the outskirts of Modica (Alta), it takes us another 20 minutes of winding through narrow cobble-stoned streets to reach Modica (Bassa).  The heart of the city Modica, yet another UNESCO World Heritage site, rests on the ruins of the ancient civilization of Siculi (inhabited since 212 BC).  Yet, somehow (perhaps sadly for Roman historians), Modica perhaps best is known today for its chocolate.  Modica chocolate, known as "cold chocolate," in that is in processed at lower temperatures than other European chocolates and not conched (that high temperature lustrous folding), leaving the sugar and the cocoa grainy and crumbly.  Both the texture and taste are distinctive -- and it is no mere coincidence that the chocolate is much like the Mexican xocoatl chocolate, since this method for making chocolate was introduced to Sicily by Spanish Conquistadors, who learned the process from the Aztecs!  And how is it?  I imagine chocoholics around the world would have differing opinions.  From someone who usually opts for other than chocolate in the world of sweets, I thought it was spectacular.

San Giorgio organ

Rested and restored after a day of easy biking, good food and exploration, we are fully re-energized and ready to head tomorrow to the rich agricultural region of Siciliy's Anapo Valley.  (Wind warnings ahead . . . ).

Ragusa as viewed from Ragusa Ibla

What is an Orange Weather and Wind Warning Anyway?

It's so human: The whole business of constantly checking weather forecasts.  We check first seeking
details to inform our decisions.  Do I need a jacket?  Are sunglasses required?  Must I vary my route?  Then, when the information is other than what we hope for (i.e., a jacket is required when shirt sleeves only are desired, or an umbrella is recommended when sunglasses and sunscreen are preferred), we keep checking back on the forecast.  Almost as though we believe that if one checks often enough, one can change the future weather.  And being human, we double/triple/quadruple checked the forecast for Tuesday's cycling.  It never changed:  Chilly and windy, with a persistent chance of rain.  That darned orange weather warning kept appearing too -- popping up as an advisory (most particularly, related to wind conditions). As the day played out, we understood.

The narrative for today's ride read, "you climb steadily for much of the day, pedaling deep into the Sicilian countryside with little sign of habitation except for individual farms and villas on much of the route."  Hmmm -- remote, lots of uphill cycling and no refreshments or possible refuge along the way.  Got it.  Wonder if the orange wind and weather warnings might make any of that important?

By noon, Axel added long pants under his biking shorts

Despite having met the morning with blue skies and a gentle breeze, by the time we finished breakfast and headed out of Noto, the weather world was changing.  We climbed the narrow alley streets to exit the city gate with howling winds whipping trash and debris around our wheels.  We dismounted our bikes when the rain and sleet made speeding along slick cobblestones an impossibility.  We hunkered down and peddled, wondering how much worse could it get, really?

And I thought this would be funny!

Well, it was a long riding day with the wind at times doubling-down on the uphill resistance.  You know that experience of barely moving fast enough to maintain balance on a bike?  Well, there you go!  I took what I thought would be a funny photo of telephone lines leaning toward the road (looking, I thought, as though they had been pushed over by the wind).  Turns out, that was exactly what had happened.  The front that moved across the region included some scary gale-force gusts -- being pushed into traffic by the winds was a frightening thought for me more than once.  Turns out an orange weather warning means there is an increased likelihood of impacts from severe weather; that communication and transportation lines could be interrupted due to weather conditions; that there is potential risk to life and property and that there is a high potential that weather may disrupt planned activity.  Ha!  Now we know.

Brrr!  Sleet and rain and wind (lots of wind)

Most of the day. my camera spent protected in my pannier.  The photo at right is when the four of us huddled against a stone wall along the road for protection from the worst of the blowing sleet and rain we experienced (you can see the pain of the situation in Bettina, squatting to mass heat and conserve any remaining warmth (rain jacket on, hood up)).  The temperature dropped from about 52F to 35F in no time flat.  When we resumed cycling, we passed a utility crew responding to downed power lines maybe a quarter of a mile from where we huddled for protection from the storm.  

And there were a few photos taken between the crazy weather events, which stayed with us for most of the day.  Challenging weather and terrain can really draw out a 35-mile ride! 

Fields are filling with wildflowers

Please someone, buy this villa  (not us)

Beautiful villa surrounded by ancient stone walls

We rolled into the Baroque city of Ragusa Ibla mid afternoon -- tired, hungry and happy for warm showers.  Viva l'orange!

Ringing out Noto

Noto -- The Stone Garden

After three very late nights. I had to take a blog-break last night to get some much needed sleep.  A routine of cycle, visit the local sights, drink cappuccino, dinner and WINE (never before 8:00 p.m.), rinse and repeat, leaves little time for blogging.

Cherubs on a balcony console

To catch you up (this is important to a kid who once asked her parents if the action in TV shows kept going during the commercials) . . . We explored Noto (known as Sicily's Baroque city) on both sides of our Monday ride.  In the morning, we set our for a walk and got lots of (unsolicited) advice from the locals about where to go to capture the very best photos.  And the constant urging was to see the Baroque balconies on Palazzo Nicolaci.  Each of six balconies along this street has five console brackets of mermaids, winged horses and cherubs (all different).  Noto is unique in its nearly complete representation of Baroque architecture.  Wholly rebuilt, in a new location (about three kilometers from the original Noto) following the earthquake of 1693, virtually every building in the city is designed and constructed in Baroque style. 

The cupola on Noto Cathedral

And, one may think, equally amazing is the preservation of these (very) old buildings.  Well, it turns out Noto got quite the wake up for stewardship of its style and treasure (for surely this is the tourist draw for Noto), when the cupola on the Noto Cathedral collapsed in 1996.  Rebuilt and reopened in 2007, this work lead to the development and slow execution of a plan to care for all the city's spectacular buildings.

As we look around, restoration and rehabilitation in progress is clear where weather shielding and scaffolds surround buildings currently in their care rotation.

Typical stone paved narrow street

Our B&B in Noto was built in the mid-1700's by a Spanish family, and has been owned continuously by our Sicilian hosts for the past 120 years.  After breakfast on the first day, our host gave us a quick tour (understanding that for a number of years the home actually had been a museum, explained the weird uninhabited feel of the main house).  Most things were left in museum staging (to include his grandfather's (gynecologist) office -- complete with cringe-worthy tools of apparent torture (ugh!)

Our ride today was back to the coast (down, down and back up) to a nature preserve, which it turns out was still shuttered for the season.  The upside to a pre-season tour is the lack of crowds, and the downside is that not everything is open (and weather can be iffy -- tomorrow's blog will make the latter aspect abundantly clear).  Faced with the closed preserve -- and determined to find something -- we first explored to the limits of a couple of dead ends, then took a beach loop to (the mostly deserted) Lido di Noto.  It was a lovely and rather warm weather day -- perfect for biking.

Roofs of Noto from the bell tower

The fabulous bell

Back in Noto by mid-afternoon, we set out for gelato, pizza and espressi.  Once again following the recommendation of the locals, we climbed the long and winding stone steps to the top of the Chiesa di Santa Chiara.   Interestingly, each of the three bells in the tower (at the top of the steps), was rigged with an electric hammer, which seemed to me horribly undignified for so beautiful a trio of bells.  With the clacker still apparent (and quite moveable) in the center bell, I set out to ring it like a gong.  Despite the nearly apoplectic response of everyone around me, the beautiful ring sounded in a way freeing and important.  I was glad I did it.  It was my ringing farewell to this stunning Baroque city.

Old men in the park -- and the street was lined with them!

Cars and Coastline

Before I tell today's story of cars and coast, I want to close out our first visit to Siracusa --

Adjusting my bike

Building Bettina's bike

In the afternoon, our B&B host called ahead to Gallardo bike shop to let the owner know we were en route.  When we arrived four Trek bikes were ready for us . . . almost.  The bikes for Cliff and Axel took only minor adjustments and changing out pedals for clips.  Then Bettina and I were presented "women's" Treks, complete with drop cross bars and small frames (say what?).  Bettina quickly determined that her bike would not work at all.  And, after a look of incredulity and a slight shake of disbelief, the bike shop owner presented a third men's frame -- and engineered a near rebuild cannibalizing Bettina's first offer for bits to outfit the new frame.  With some adjustments, I accepted a slightly too small frame, which has me perched a bit Mary-Poppins like as I travel along.  As I like to say: "Not good, but good enough." (and it was pretty clear this man was not going to be able to produce a fourth larger frame, so hey).

The Temple of Minerva in Ortygia

After a delightful dinner of Sicilian seafood stew and grilled tuna in Siracusa, we undertook a rather lengthy return walk to our B&B (imagine lots of: "Have we seen this before?" and "Which way now?").  The opportunistic night photos here are a result of our tripping across the Duomo (Temple of Minerva) in Ortygia at night.

And now to Noto:  Whoever thought the Sunday not-quite tourist season traffic would be light for the 28 miles between our lodging on Ortygia (actually a small island linked to Siracusa by two bridges across a harbor) and Noto had no faith in the Sicilian determination to enjoy a blue-sky Sunday before their island is clogged with tourists (from 1 April - 1 October, the locals tell us). It took some time for me to gain confidence joining the vehicular traffic flow of the locals as we maneuvered junctions and roundabouts along the way.

With firm resolve not to get caught up (or killed) between Siracusa and Noto, I learned courageously to tailgate the cars in front of me (commanding false bravery through rights of way) and to stop for pictures without constantly fretting the ongoing progress of Cliff, Axel and Bettina.  And this approach made all the difference:

The road to the coast was lined with green houses bursting at the seams with tomato plants drooping under the weight of the super sweet pachino tomatoes grown here, grove after grove of citrus trees (mostly lemon), stands of olives trees not yet in fruit and fields of artichokes with hairy stemmed necks struggling to hold the bulbous purple heads up to the late winter sunshine.  Growing wild and in hedges were plants I recognized from Florida to include Bougainvillea and Honeysuckle, and New Mexico (think cacti of every shape and size).  With a climate quite Florida-like and a latitude very nearly the same as Santa Fe, this sense of the familiar at least in the vegetation, I really should not find this surprising.  Still it seems to be at least a tad so -- and totally delightful.

Cycling still with a pretty constant flow of traffic, we kept the Mediterranean coastline (and ostentatious beach homes) to our left, and the gentle rise of the interior (and many abandoned villas and ruins) to our right.  With only a short stop for espressi (and a toilet break) along the beach in the resort town of Avola, we rolled into Noto early in the afternoon under cerulean blue skies with only the slightest breeze and temps in the mid sixties.  Just before Sicilian siesta (roughly between 3:00 p.m. and 6:00 p.m.) we grabbed foccacia and calzones before heading in for our own siestas.  The first day of cycling had been a great success (thank you weather gods).

The Red Bike Team with Noto in the background

A & B

C & D