Beside the Seaside

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In Which I'd Rather Not Sleep With The Fishes, Thank You Very Much

June 26, 2008 by Mike

San Leone

Route: Catania - Augusta - Siracusa - Avola - Pozzallo - Gela - San Leone

Full speed ahead. That means no sight-seeing in Catania and, having diverted in to the town only to discover that the only museum is closed for repairs, no sight-seeing in Augusta, either. (nb not a golf course in sight in Augusta.)

Next stop and next big town: Siracusa. I've had in in my head that Odysseus was here but can find no references anywhere. (Needless to say the Tourist Office was closed.)

That leaves me facing the sad truth that the only thing I know about Siracusa is that it gave its name to Syracuse, New York - a small town where someone I briefly worked with, a long time ago, a tousle-headed optimist called Dickon, went to University. Now why do I remember that and nothing about Siracusa?

I still had time to visit the ancient Greek theatre and the Ear of Dionysius, a grotto that sounds like it should be a pub; be plagued by t-shirt sellers and slow-moving groups of ambulating tourists, all too fat and wearing too little; and ride through the centre of town without getting a handle on where and what the centre was exactly.

Down by the port I realised why it's such a threat, here in Sicily, when a puggish mafioso threatens to make you "sleep with the fishes."

Round these parts, if you sleep with the fishes you risk picking up all kinds of something nasty from the unfettered pollution and all the rubbish casually thrown into the sea, not all of which is the remains of people who have offended the local godfather.

Pressing on, I rounded the southwest corner of the island, avoiding a detour on tiny roads, doubtless potholed and confusing, to Capo Passero, the southern tip of Sicily. How liberating! (But I promise to do all the fiddly bits when I get back to the mainland and resume the trip proper.)

I still managed to get lost, mind, as I couldn't decide whether to stay close-ish to the coast on smaller roads, take the highway through Ragusa, a few miles further inland, or try to find the autostrada, a motorway which may or may not have been completed since my map was published -- twelve years ago.

At which point I should remark on the number of cement factories in the south and west of Sicily. Far more than you'd expect to see. And there are huge road bridges straddling valleys. Anywhere else in Italy the road would follow the contours of the landscape. Here, they build the bridges. "They", one might deduce, being the Mafia who have a firm hold on road-building contracts in these parts. (*All pure conjecture on my account: I'm certainly not suggesting that anybody involved in the decision-making or building of roads here, or indeed anyone connected with political life in Sicily, has anything whatsoever to do with the Mafia or related organisations. Of course not.*)

Certainly this bridge (with no cars on whatsoever) is a valuable contribution to the island's infrastructure.. as photographed from the little road all the traffic was on...):

I must have seen two dozen burning fields today. It's a vital part of the arable economy, I know (unless it's an insurance job or a 'message' from the Mafia to a recalcitrant farmer) but a good friend lost his brother in an horrific traffic accident caused by such smoke reducing visibility on a US highway. So, useful or not, I really didn't enjoy sights like this.. or having to ride through them:

And if you've got this far, you deserve a little reward: a brief message in praise of silk longjohns.

I'd been carrying them since I left Norwich nearly two years ago but had never fetched them out of the bottom of my righthand pannier until a few days ago. I was reminded of them as I watched a stout Swiss woman decant herself from a motorbike at the Pompeii campsite and proceed to get changed into t-shirt and shorts. It wasn't a pretty sight.. I would rather not have seen it, if I'm honest, but they'd decided to pitch their tent a little too close to mine for comfort.. except for the sight of her longjohns.

I tried mine the next day and.. it's been a revelation. The heavy, thick protective bike trousers are easier to get on and off; they aren't, *cough*, sticky with sweat after a day's ride; they're even cooler when I'm off the bike and walking about. In short, my silk longjohns have made my world a sunnier, happier place.

Just in case you wanted to know. ;-)

Beside the Seaside

In Which I'd Rather Not Sleep With The Fishes, Thank You Very Much

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