It’s May Day, so who knows what will be open today. Our B&B is one of those that gives you credit for a coffee and pastry at a nearby cafe and this one gives us two to choose from, each less than a block away. We’re glad to see that one of them will allegedly open at 7:30 so that’s the plan. We’re awake at six though, so in the meantime Rachael walks upstairs with a coffee pod she’s brought along to see if it fits the espresso machine on the counter there. It doesn’t - it’s too small and just drops straight through, so she returns with hot water she’ll use for a cup of lukewarm instant and several cookies we both find delicious.
Later, she WhatsApp’s a request to our host to drop off a few coffee pods when it’s convenient, but we learn that our B&B has no espresso machine. As it happens, our building houses two B&B’s and we’ve just robbed some cookies from the other one. Nothing to be done about it now!
At 7:30 we head across the street to the cafe for our coffees and cornati, happy to see that it is in fact open.
Coffee and pastries in a clean, well lighted place. We’re happy it’s warm enough to sit outside this morning.
We expected it to rain all day and leave us hiding out in our room, so it’s a pleasant surprise to see that it’s dry this morning and according to the most optimistic forecast we consult expected to remain dry until around noon. I quickly map out a walking route for us and soon I’m out the door, while Rachael waits around until she feels like she can part ways with the indoor plumbing for a few hours.
Corso Matino, 9:30. This is the pedestrianized main street through town. Pretty quiet still.
You’ll remember that Mattinata sits in the narrow valley between steep-sided Mounts Saraceno and Sacro. As a result, there are really only two walking directions out of town. Yesterday we walked the short distance from town to the sea - flattish, since central Mattinata sits at an elevation of only around 250 feet. Today we’re headed the other way, up-valley.
The walking distance in this direction is quite different. It’s relentlessly uphill, and at times very steep. In our three mile climb we’ll gain about 1,700’, with the steepest slopes starting right out of town. For much of the first mile the road maintains a grade of 15 and 23 percent. Steep.
On the plus side, the steep climb encourages frequent stops to admire the increasingly impressive views and to check out whatever of interest grows or walks or flutters close at hand. As usual in places like this, there’s a lot.
Is this woad (Isatis tinctoria)? I think I’ve heard of it without knowing what it was, but in the past it was cultivated as a source of indigo dye.
Bruce LellmanI've seen prickly pear in Montana and Montana is pretty dang north. But they are probably a different variety than this prickly pear. Reply to this comment 11 months ago
Another view toward Mount Saraceno. This gives a really good perspective on yesterday’s descent. The road crosses the ridge just to the right of the rightmost peak, diagonals across to nearly the left edge of the frame and then doubles back.
Keith AdamsI want to say something witty about the cart before the horse but I'd probably just make an ass of myself. Reply to this comment 11 months ago
Here she comes, about a mile and a half into the climb. I’ve seen her approaching on the Garmin for awhile and have been watching for her. We’re both pleasantly surprised that I’ve gotten this far before she caught up.
I’m pleased to have made it about a mile and a half into the climb before Rachael finally catches up with me. We walk together for a ways before I find something else to yank out the Lumix for and she climbs on ahead. The road continues upward, but less steeply now - generally rising at around a comfortable 8-10 percent. Above around a thousand feet the nature of the surroundings change, with the woods changing from olives to juniper and the fields broken by stone walls.
About another mile into the climb I start being concerned about the weather. It’s been very lightly sprinkling for some time now, but when I look around the sky is changing and it looks like we’re losing our window. I phone Rachael to say I think it’s time to reverse direction, but she’s already reached the same conclusion herself and is just turning back. She’s not far ahead, and in another five minutes I see her coming around the bend ahead.
I’ve taken a photo of an emerging giant fennel cluster before, but it still fascinates me.
As before, we walk together a ways before she’s ready to move on ahead at her own pace. She’s concerned about the weather and would like to arrive home reasonably dry, and she’ll improve her odds if she doesn’t need to wait for my knees to negotiate that -23% slope ahead.
It continues lightly misting, but no worse than that; and actually gets better as we drop down toward town. She arrives home virtually dry, and I make it in about twenty minutes later. It’s been an excellent hike, and much more than we expected to get from the day.
Conditions are changing and it’s definitely time to turn back. It’s very lightly sprinkling but graying over enough that we don’t trust the sky any longer.
Scott AndersonTo Kirsten KaarsooEasily could be. They’re really nice dogs, in our experience. Leave their sheep alone, and they’re fine. Reply to this comment 11 months ago
Kelly IniguezDo you carry an umbrella? Sometimes I wish we had one. Jacinto did find one along the road, and hung a towel off of it from his rear rack, to warn off cars. He carried that the whole trip, but I don't think we ever used it as an umbrella. Reply to this comment 11 months ago
Rachael AndersonTo Kelly IniguezNo we don’t carry an umbrella, just a rain jacket with a hood, rain boots and pants. Reply to this comment 11 months ago
We’re not back long before the real rains begin and won’t relent until late in the evening. The next couple hours go fast as we have plenty to talk and think about. Eventually Rachael feels the need for a nap and I turn to the blogs.
It’s still pouring at 7:30 when we step out again, hoping we’ll find something open on this holiday evening. Few others are about tonight, and we’re the only ones not sheltered under an umbrella. We’re happy when two blocks from the room and come to De Gustibus, its menu board propped up out on the street, it’s lights on, and a young woman beckoning us to come in out of the rain. We don’t think twice.
Not long after we’re seated I look at the street outside the window and see that a river runs through it.
My starter: orecchiette with pesto and clamps, according to the English version of the menu. We’re a little uncertain what clamps might be but I’m feeling adventurous and take my chances.
It’s raining too hard out to go on a gelato hunt so we ask for the dessert menu. Pistacchio semifreddo sounds great so we order a slice. As soon as it’s delivered and we see how delicious it looks we order a second.
