Catania - San Lorenzo via somewhere south

Some sort of unwanted symmetry meant that the leaving of Catania resembled its arriving in that I wasted an hour and six miles before I found the way out. The blame for that must be shared equally between the Italian reluctance to waste money on signs for people who don't know where they are already (i.e. non-local taxpayers) and my own inability to spot the few that were provided.

Eventually I broke free of the town, and tried to make up time along route 114, as yesterday. Where it differed from yesterday though was that the motorway had given up, so all the traffic was on this road, which made it less than pleasant. Eventually, it decided to turn into a motorway itself, at which point I was pushed off onto the old SP 193 (I think SP indicates something a bit less major than SS in road terms). Anyway, it was signed to Siracusa, which is what I wanted. I headed for the city, through what was really a wasteland of refineries and tips.

Siracusa, though large, wasn't nearly as hard to get into and out of as Catania. For getting in, I just headed for the centre, and for heaading out I tried a plan which I regret learning so late, but which I intend to use if ever I do this sort of thing again.

I started by assuming I was going to waste an hour asking directions either of people who were equally ignorant of their whereabouts, or who thought that the bike I had with me was for decoration and I was going to stuff it in the back of a car I was keeping round the corner, hence allowing me to use the motorway. Proceeding from that, I decided to spend the hour thus written off having lunch, and then, before paying the bill, asking the waiter how to get onto the road I wanted. The double benefit is that you know your interlocutor is neither a Croatian holidaymaker nor (hopefully) the local nutter, and also that once they realise the table isn't going to come free until they've made sure this sweaty customer (and that odd feety smell really did only start to become a problem after he arrived) is satisfied he's heading in the right direction.

It worked like a dream, and off I went, unerringly heading out of town in the right direction for once.

It was interesting (though not pleasant) to note that the wind which appeared between about 11:30 and 15:30 yesterday was there again today, once more in my face. I don't know if it's a daily thing, but it does make a powerful argument for a siesta. Whether it was the wind or the day generally that was hot I don't know, but I did drink huge amounts of liquid today, and could hardly stop once I'd started drinking.

So, through a couple of small towns, then I saw the first sign to Pachino, which I knew was the last town in a southerly direction. I assumed this meant I was close, but it really just meant it was the only town left to put on the signs, and it took a long time to arrive. I did use the time to note a couple of hotels by the side of the road, one of which I'm in at the moment, thus not wasting the usual half hour or so trying to find one.

Through Pachino, and hotfooting it for the southernmost point. Did I get there? I really have no idea, but I suspect not. It's not like Nordkapp, where they make a big thing of it, with a monument showing the latitude and longitude. Here, I went down a couple of small roads, before arriving at a members-only campsite, where they pointed me to a beach a bit up and across. I arrived there, and decided to treat this as the destination, despite a fairly large building on a small outcrop clearly south of where I was, which I couldn't have got to anyway. Whatever, it will do me, and I'm not coming back to finish it off even if the GPS trace shows I was in Belgium.

There were a few people on the beach, and it appeared this was one of the few places in notoriously conservative Italy where women sunbathe topless. This made it a bit difficult to take the obligatory photos without being accused of being some sort of pervert, but I think I managed to save everyone's modesty.

After all that time and distance, it seemed a time of reflection was called for, and for fully a minute and a quarter I faced into the ocean and relaxed. I'd been busting for that one for two hours, but I hadn't been out of sight of people in all that time.

So, having topped up the Mediterranean, I turned round and came back here to the Villa Julia. Now all I need to do is work out how to get back to Stuttgart, but that's my problem. Over and out.

Pictures

Updated 18 June 2008