Mesagne

April 17, 2023

There is considerable discussion among the team members both last night and this morning about how to approach the day’s stage. The main consideration is of course the weather, which looks like it will bring consequential rain for much of the day. There are two options to select from. Weather permitting, biking is of course the preferred route - it’s a flat, easy ride to Mesagne, not even thirty miles to the north.

We don’t need much of a weather break to fit such a modest ride through, but you can get very wet in even a mile or two so we’re glad that for a nice change we have the train as an alternative. There’s a regional line that runs a few times a day and takes bikes, with a transfer in Brindisi.

Rachael sets the alarm early and is up at six injecting caffeine into her system to get it running through in case our break comes early in the day. It doesn’t, so we take our time and hang out in the room for the next several hours hoping conditions will improve. They don’t, and when time for checkout comes it’s still drizzly enough that we don’t want to get on the road just yet. And besides, we can’t because my Garmin is messed up somehow, and Rachael can’t load the day’s route to it in the room because the WiFi is too weak. Worse, she can’t even reset it because she can’t read it either - the language has somehow gotten reset to what looks like Turkish.

So as soon as we’re packed and rolling we vow to stop at the first cafe we come to with WiFi and a place to shelter the bikes from the rain so Rachael can work some magic with the Garmin and we can pass some time hoping for weather improvements. We’re in no hurry, because we can’t check in at our next place for four hours and the next train doesn’t leave for over two.

We’re in luck - we bike less than a block and come to Caffe Adriano, a spot that checks all the boxes.

Our refuge from the rain. We’re well covered, and there’s just enough of an overhang to shelter the bikes too.

Caffe Adriano comes through well for us. It’s warm and calm enough to sit outside at a covered table where we can keep our eye on the bikes, leaning under an overhang against the adjacent storefront wall. We’re there for perhaps a half hour - long enough for me to dispense with an americano and cornato and for Rachael to enjoy a small sandwich. I reset the language on my Garmin to English (it helped to have a second device to pattern after to decipher the control menu) and draw up a route to the train station while Rachael resets and loads the Garmin. It’s also long enough for us to resolve the morning’s major question, with us both finally agreeing that we can’t think of any reason the world would be a better place if we bike in the rain for thirty miles and maybe catch colds, when we could be helping out the economy of our host nation by supporting the train system instead.

When we see a break in the weather we take our chance and bike to the train station, arriving there dry and planning on sitting around for nearly two hours until our departure.

Once we’re there though and I’ve confirmed the departure and the fact that bikes are allowed, I look at the surprisingly blueing sky and decide we should recheck the weather. Surprisingly, it’s significantly improved since we looked last and it now looks like it should stay dry for the next three to four hours - just enough!

So a second team discussion ensues, focusing around risks and probabilities. How much should we trust the weather forecast? What’s the likelihood that we’ll choose the train and then feel foolish as we watch the improved weather while we muscle our bikes on and off two different trains? In the end, we decide on a compromise - we’ll start off biking, but keep an eye on the weather and leave open the option of catching the train at one of the next two stops, ten or fifteen miles down the line.

Almost sunny! Surely this will hold us for the next three hours.

And so we go for it. And we get lucky this time, with the next rains holding off just long enough to last until we arrive in Mesagne. We’re suspicious of conditions though the whole way, especially when we look west toward the higher ground and see the gloomy sky and what looks like significant precipitation maybe just five or ten miles to the west. We’ve made the right choice this time, but it wouldn’t have taken much of a change in the weather pattern for us to have regrets.

In scenic Trepuzzi, we decide it’s brightened and warmed up enough to shed a layer.

We’re so glad we aren’t further inland! I risk the wrath of Rocky to stop for a quick shot to remember the day from, and then we hurry on.

In spite of what it looks like here, it’s basically paved the whole way, on a quiet, fine road marked as a cycling route.

But definitely puddly in spots. And the fact that it’s paved seems less consequential when the pavement’s hiding beneath a few inches of water.

It’s a race! Will we get in dry this time? Actually, I’m quite optimistic. If you look behind me to the direction our weather is blowing in from it’s much fairer. We’re biking through a pretty decent hole in the sky.

Not bad at all. Nearly idyllic really, assuming it ends well.

As long as the rain’s falling off at a safe distance it makes for a dramatic sky.

We make it to town just in time, not long before the first showers begin. We’re lucky, obviously. A few miles to the west and we’d be miserable, regretting our decision and looking around for someone to blame for it.

We’re feeling smart, virtuous and lucky when we bike into the outskirts of Mesagne as the first light showers break out. It’s a small place, and soon we’re waiting for our host at the door of our lodging for the night: Tobacco Suite. It’s an odd name for a place, which we come to understand in time: it’s a former tobacco packing plant, currently under renovation and conversion into what looks like it will eventually become a fine hotel, probably the best place in town.

The narrow hallway to our room, about halfway down on the right. The walls are adorned with framed selections from an impressive stamp collection which I assume has some connection with the former factory - maybe the hobby of its owner.

I’m sure there are interesting sights to be appreciated in Mesagne, but we aren’t tempted to seek them out as it on and off rains for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. We’re open about plans for tomorrow and may stay on in town for another day (but not in this hotel, which is fully booked for tomorrow night) depending on the weather; so there’s the chance we’ll get a second chance for a look tomorrow.

Instead, we wait for the eight o’clock dinner reservation our host has phoned in for us. We’re not long until time to step out when there’s a yelp and call for emergency assistance from the bathroom. In a lifetime first for her, Rachael has been captured by the hair dryer. Somehow some of her hair has gotten inhaled by it and won’t come out again. How does this even happen, with a device that’s blowing out hot air? Is there a countercurrent there in the turbulence?

So I come to the rescue, but can’t figure out how to free her. We’re considering cutting off some strands, but we don’t have any scissors and my knife is down with the bikes so I look again and finally see what’s happened. Her hair has been inhaled into two different pores, and the strands have all gotten tangled into a knot on the inside so they can’t be pulled out. It takes awhile, but eventually I pull out one hair at a time until finally there’s just the knot with a few remaining strands that gets broken off and left behind. Free at last!

As suspected, Mesagne looks quite attractive with its wet multihued marble streets glistening under the streetlights as we enter its historic center and walk to the restaurant. And dinner is great, at a good but simple place with only a few other diners in the hall, none of whom look like tourists to us. Mesagne looks like another typical Puglian town, well off the tourist route but the more attractive for it. I won’t be disappointed if it turns out we’re staying here for a second night.

Tonight’s mains: gnocchi with pesche spada and pistachio, and tagliatelle with sausage and mushrooms.

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Ride stats today: 28 miles, 600’; for the tour: 564 miles, 31,600’

Today's ride: 28 miles (45 km)
Total: 564 miles (908 km)

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Keith Adams"I look at the surprisingly blueing sky and decide we should recheck the weather. Surprisingly, it’s significantly improved since we looked last and it now looks like it should stay dry for the next three to four hours - just enough!

So a second team discussion ensues, focusing around risks and probabilities. How much should we trust the weather forecast? What’s the likelihood that we’ll choose the train and then feel foolish as we watch the improved weather while we muscle our bikes on and off two different trains?"

it was on our first ever European tandem tour that a couple from Eugene introduced us to the term "sucker hole". As you're from Salem and Portland, I presume you're not unfamiliar with the term, and the concept?
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1 year ago

Scott AndersonTo Keith AdamsNo, I’ve never heard that before, but what a great expression! We got sucked into one the following day too. I’ll have to use it in. Sentence a few times so it imprints.
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1 year ago

Amber StarfireGlad you managed to stay dry. And what magnificent clouds and lighting for the photos!
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1 year ago

Scott AndersonTo Amber StarfireThere’s not much better than getting in dry on a day like this, is there? And the following day was similar. We’re pushing our luck.
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1 year ago