To Mattinata

April 30, 2023

We thought we might get an earlier start today than we did for our forty mile ride to Vieste, the hardest remaining day on our plan for the tour. It’s still raining at nine though so we WhatsApp our host to let him know we’ll be hanging around until ten instead. The showers have just ended when we leave and we’re attentive as we bike across the city’s slick pavers as we bike out of town.

Our original plan for today was to only bike as far as Mattinata, thirteen miles east along the coast. The thinking was to take the most scenic route to Vieste along the blissfully quiet and scenic coast road east of Mattinata; but doing it all in one day as we did four years ago adds up to 45 miles and 4,500’ of climbing over a seemingly endless series of around a dozen coastal headlands - a ride that Team Anderson found challenging but reasonable four years ago. A lot has changed over the last four years though and rides like that, if they’re even actually viable any more, have lost their appeal. Maybe if we move on to e-bikes someday, but not now. Sad but true.

So the plan this year was to break the ride up with a stop in nearby Mattinata, only thirteen miles away but the only option between here and Vieste. I say was, because we aren’t doing that after all because of the weather situation. As it turns out, today looks to be the last dry one out of the next four; and tomorrow and the day after look especially windy and wet. It’s May that’s coming in like a lion this year, not March.

What to do? We explore the option of taking the bus from Mattinata to Vieste tomorrow if we decide it’s too wet to bike, but the local bus will only take disassembled and bagged folders. Possible, but a logistical nuisance since we don’t have bags. Instead we decide to take the ‘easy’ ride to Vieste and do it all today. The easy route takes the busier SS68 between Mattinata and Vieste. Less attractive than the serendipitous coast road, but an important eight miles shorter with a thousand feet less elevation gain. That, we think we can do.

It’s gray when we bike east out of town. The skies look forbidding ahead with the Gargano’s heights buried in fog. We’ll be going up there once we’re past Mattinata, but the weather apps promise that conditions will improve by the time we get that far. We trust YR and Weather.com implicitly, so we’re not worried.

A last look back west, at Manfredonia’s long loading pier jutting far out to sea.

The first eight miles are generally flat as we follow a coastal track that RideWithGPS chooses not to tell us is often unpaved but which we would have remembered if we’d bothered to reread our post from four years ago. Rough, and wet enough this morning that we’re frequently forced to dismount and push. There’s no doubt it’s the right road though - it saves us considerable climbing and distance over taking the inland road; and today at least we’re further rewarded by a nice goat herd milling around the track.

Rough here and there, but the obvious right choice.

It was the best plan here too, though I didn’t take it. I watch this pair go through first but then almost spill when I hit a hidden sharp lip submerged under the water. A near catastrophe.

A scenic ruin of some kind, a former massaria perhaps.

Goats! I would have taken more time for a better shot except that the goatherd and his five or six dogs were waiting on the path for us to move on.

Fortunately I’m not the only one on the scene with a camera today.

About six miles from Mattinata we come to the first and by far the smallest of the two climbs of the day. This one gains elevation at a pretty consistent five percent for three miles as it crosses over the nose of Mount Saraceno before losing it all back with a matching three mile drop to Mattinata. The second climb is considerably more challenging - a Category 1 ascent to a high gap on Mount Sacro that gains 2,500’ in twelve miles. A mountain pass really, a ride that will be the most difficult of the entire tour.

I’ve been worrying about this climb for the past several days, to be honest. With my intermittent arrythmia episodes there’s certainly some risk here. My thinking though is that a single long climb is better. If I make it to the top and have an episode on the descent (which sounds stupid when I say it but is in fact the most likely thing to happen based on recent experience), I can just coast the next twelve miles to the end; and if it happens on the ascent instead we can just turn around and drop back to Mattinata and consider our options. It’s another reason that this route is the best for today, rather than rolling over a dozen headlands where I could get trapped in the middle somewhere.

I’m encouraged by this first climb, which gives me no problems at all; and we’re both uplifted by the fantastic coastal and mountain scenery and elated by the descent with its sharp hairpin turns and stunning views of gleaming whitewashed Mattinata sitting in a sea of olives. These six miles rank as among the finest of the tour.

Beginning the climb over the seaward nose of Mount Saraceno.

Inspiring views across the olive groves to the steely Adriatic inspire us as we climb.

This was supposed to be a Where’s Rachael shot, and maybe it is. My timing was off, but I think maybe that’s her white helmet just about to emerge from behind the olives in the center.

Looking back toward Manfredonia before crossing over. Look at that large black space down there in the middle of the olives - it’s a large sinkhole.

Mattinata is stunning, surrounded by olives in the valley between Mounts Saraceno and Sacro.

It’s an exhilarating descent, with our view constantly changing as we switchback our way down the side of the mountain.

On the opposite side of the valley, zooming in on the first of Monte Sacro’s many headlands.

Such a beautiful ride, and one we’ve experienced before. We feel lucky to get to relive it.

Video sound track: Alchemy, by Al Marconi

At the bottom we skirt the seaward side of town, come to the low point, and stop to take off a layer in preparation for the twelve mile climb ahead. And that’s when it happens. Suddenly I feel off, check my pulse, and find it’s racing away at about 150 bpm. Why now, after hardly turning the crank for the last three miles? I’ve never been able to make sense of this. I lie down in the grass, we give it about ten minutes, and then acknowledge the obvious - the climb’s not happening, and we’re staying here. Rachael brings up Booking, finds us a room a few hundred yards away that we can check in to now, and we slowly make our way up there. Slowly, because it’s UP, and navigation is confusing, and dead-ends and stairs confuse the way. Finally Rachael leaves me to sit on a bench while she wanders around to find a place that can’t be more than a block and a half away, and soon returns to collect me.

Our unexpected home for the next three nights: B&B La Puglia.

So suddenly our plan to bike around the mountainous Gargano Promontory doesn’t make sense any more. Not only is it unclear if I can even bike it, but with at least three days of rain ahead it doesn’t look ant all attractive. We aren’t really sure what we’re going to do next - that can wait for us to sleep on and then discuss tomorrow - but for now we’re agreed that we’ll stay here for three nights and wait out the worst of the coming rains.

We hang around our room for about an hour and then walk out to check out our new home while we’ve still got some good weather to explore it with. It begins with a restaurant cruise, looking for a spot for dinner tonight and the days ahead. We’re delighted to find we’re spoiled for choice and come away with the names of a half dozen places that all sound attractive that we’ll talk over and choose from later in the day. We’re also charmed by Mattinata itself, with its main commercial street pedestrianized and animated by folks slow-walking or just sitting around visiting on this Sunday afternoon of a holiday weekend (tomorrow is Labor Day). It’s a clean, welcoming, well maintained place, and at this time of year anyway not at all touristy. It feels like we could easily be the only tourists in town, as probably most visitors land a mile away down on the small coastal resort.

On our research project. For a nice change we have three meals to look for venues for and plenty of attractive choices.

I liked this bike-supported table as a spot for a selfie but was a little frustrated to be only able to show a head-on view of the bike.

But then my partner wandered by to open up a different possibility.

We come eventually to a small belvedere overlooking the sea of olives and the actual sea beyond, and I propose to Rachael that we walk down there and back. It’s only about a three mile round trip and we’ve still got a few hours to work with, so we bring up the map and find the most direct walking route to the shore. It’s a pleasant walk, primarily through olive groves once we’re outside of town. And the shingle beach, once we get there, is very nice. The water’s calm today, there are only a few other families about, and it’s pleasant to just sit on the rocks and take in the scene for about fifteen minutes while Rachael walks down the beach a short ways and then returns.

Back at the room, we study restaurant websites and reviews and make our choices. Tonight it’s Osteria Del Borgo, which treats us very well. We’d be happy to go back for seconds, but there are too many other choices to be considered next.

The view from Mattinata. The ridge ahead is the nose of Mount Saraceno. If you look closely enough you can see our road switchbacking down its face.

Fantastic olives line the road as we walk to the sea. The epitome of gnarliness.

The view east, toward the nearest headland of Mount Sacro. I think this is the same headland I zoomed in on from our descent.

And the view west, toward the snout of Mount Saraceno.

Heart

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Ride stats today: 14 miles, 1,100’; for the tour: 816 miles, 44,000’

Today's ride: 14 miles (23 km)
Total: 850 miles (1,368 km)

Rate this entry's writing	Heart	10
Comment on this entry	Comment	11

Kathleen JonesSorry that big heart of yours is cramping your style. Glad you landed in a nice spot.
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11 months ago

Kelly IniguezKathleen said it just right. We are all rooting for you! Good happenstance on your location.
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11 months ago

Rachael AndersonWhat a nice thing to say! I sure was glad that it happened where it did. I usually am ahead on a climb and it would have been awful if it happened there.
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11 months ago

Rachael AndersonTo Kelly IniguezThanks. Scott and I are done with really hard riding like what you and Jacinto do!
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11 months ago

Scott AndersonTo Kathleen JonesThanks, Kathleen. That’s really kind of you to say. And it is a good spot to land for a few days while we figure this out.
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11 months ago

Kirsten KaarsooScott, I hope things settle for you. Enjoy the spot you’re in now.
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11 months ago

Bruce LellmanScott, I'm so sorry this is happening to you. You are wise to stop and enjoy where you are. There always are a lot of things to discover and enjoy/photograph in just about any town and its environs. I do hope you can continue on though, maybe at a slow pace doing just a few miles per day. I'm thinking of you.
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11 months ago

Patrick O'HaraHey Scott. Sorry to hear about your latest episode. Time to relax and hibernate for a few days while the weather passes. I hope you feel back to your wonderful self soon! Maybe some walks to add to your bird quest?
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11 months ago

Scott AndersonTo Patrick O'HaraDoing it!
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11 months ago

Rich FrasierI'm so sorry - you have to be incredibly frustrated. But you handled it the right way. And maybe you've stumbled onto a gem of an experience!
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11 months ago

Jacquie GaudetSad to hear that this happened (again) but it looks like a nice place to be for a few days.
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11 months ago