In Manduria: Oria loop

April 9, 2023

It’s Easter Sunday, and it’s wet. We’re glad we’ve booked ourselves for a second night in our B&B here because there’s no requirement for us to venture outside if we don’t want to. It’s a good day for catching up on the blogs, getting back to the task of booking the next chunk of our remodeled itinerary, and later in the afternoon enjoying a lengthy phone chat with Susan basking in the sun over in Cordoba. In the evening we’ll walk over to the restaurant where our host has booked an Easter dinner for us and hurriedly walk back to the room afterwards in a light rain and strong, chilling headwind.

Still, it would be nice to get out for at least part of the day. Yesterday at lunch we were chatting with a fellow diner, a Brazilian man who resettled in Europe years ago. He approves of our choice of a stopover here, testing out some of the smaller and lesser known stars in the bright Puglian constellation. He says we should also have a look at nearby Olia and Nardò, towns he said are also well worth a visit.

So last night I optimistically created a short route to neighboring Olia, less than ten miles north of here, and hoped for a big enough break in today’s weather to bike a slow 20 mile ride through. And this morning I find I’m in luck if I’m quick about it. Weather.com and YR (we’re back to shopping around the weather sites, looking for the most promising forecast) both assert that I’ll have about two hours before the next rains arrive if I leave right now. So I do, after asking Rachael to load the route on the Garmin for me and discussing our plans for the day. I’m out the door a few minutes later, and she’s soon off herself on a brisk walk. She takes the room keys with her so we’ll have to coordinate our returns.

Within a few minutes I’m out of town and on an empty lane biking north toward Olia, surrounded by olive groves.

You see a lot of olive treesin Salento. From what we’ve seen so far it looks like they must cover half of the countryside around here.

It’s nice when the sun breaks through briefly to brighten things up.

Seven miles into the ride Olia comes into sight. It’s a hill town so for the next while I can imagine the terrible 300’ climb in my near future, once I get past this ferocious beast squatted in the middle of the road up ahead like Cerberus guarding the entrance to Hades.

I slow down to size him up, and in the meantime a car overtakes me and honks at the dog to move. He doesn’t budge, doesn’t even flinch; so the driver slowly veers past, pulling off onto the shoulder to avoid him. I follow soon after, and my passing does rouse this beast to rise to his feet, walk a few steps, and then settle down in the road again.

Puglia’s a pretty quiet place, if you find the right roads.

Monstrous dog ahead, monstrous climb further ahead. Oh, woe is me!

The Brazilian is right. With a domed cathedral and a castle crowning its hill, Olia does look worth a look.

When I get there, it’s a relief to find that the much-feared climb doesn’t amount to much at all, barely topping 3% at its worst. And it’s a satisfaction to find it to be an interesting place to briefly explore, which I do for the next half hour or so before looking out over the gray skies from the vista point beside the cathedral and decide it’s time to head back before the next rains arrive.

The historic southern gate, one of at least three still intact from the once walled town.

The strikingly patterned dome of Oria Cathedral.

In Oria, another typical Puglian town with white marble streets and structures but without the crowds.

Construction of the new Oria Cathedral began in 1750, replacing the older one that was made unsafe by earthquake damage.

The view west toward the sea, and toward my ride home. Hopefully there’s enough dry weather left in the day for me to get there.

I’ve taken longer poking around Oria than I thought I might. I feel like I should make good time on the ride back to Manduria, but it’s slow going here and there as I encounter a one soggy stretch of road after another. While I bike I get a text from Rachael that she’s home from her own seven mile walk, so I’ll be able to get into our room when I arrive. When I get there I find that she’s been tracking me on the Garmin and a little concerned because I’ve been traveling so slowly, but I had my reasons. A nice ride to a worthwhile destination, and I’m lucky that the rain held off long enough for me to make it in dry.

We’ve seen several structures like this now. I think Suzanne’s probably right, and that protuberance looks more chimney than dovecote.

One of the older structures you still see here and there.

I’d like to make better time, but this holds me up a bit.

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Ride stats today: 22 miles, 500’; for the tour: 397 miles, 26,900’

Today's ride: 22 miles (35 km)
Total: 397 miles (639 km)

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