April 15, 2025
San Severo
At thirty-five miles, today’s ride is the longest of the traveling days we have lined up for Italy and France. Other than being a bit longer though it looks easy enough - generally flat the entire way, on a fair day with moderate winds that are generally in our favor. And except for a few short highway stretches it looks like a very quiet route the entire way.
Still, 35 miles sounds awfully close to 40, and more than we want to take on even with our fairly light loads. So when I wake up in the middle of the night one of the things I do is to relook at the route and when I do I find a small, allegedly paved road I missed before because I wasn’t zoomed in far enough that takes a more direct route and shaves two miles off the total. Over breakfast, we both agree that 33 miles has a much smaller sound to it than 35. It’s barely over thirty miles now, more or less the same distance we’ve already done twice so far this spring, so of course this option gets the nod.
It doesn’t sound like much, but the change is consequential. Even though it shortens the ride by two miles, it probably lengthens the ride time because in this case paved means ‘paved’ - a poor surface that is occasionally paved, occasionally not, but generally rough, poorly surfaced and slow for the ten miles we’re on it. By the time we reach our destination Rachael’s arthritic wrists and and feet both hurt from the road shock.
But, as you’ll hear her say in the second video of this exceptional day, it was totally worth it.
First though we have to speed through these first twenty miles, which for the most part are extraordinary, beginning with a glorious display of color - roadsides lined with giant fennel, meadows densely carpeted in daisies, sheep grazing on them, kestrels swooping through the sky above. It’s really great, the best riding so far in this so-far short tour.
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Conditions gradually change as we ride - golden meadows slowly mutate into stony walls and olive groves, the western face of the Gargano peninsula draws nearer, then we’re biking through long, straight lanes lined by trees I keep thinking I should stop to take a photo of the leaves but don’t, and gradually the weather situation changes too: the wind picks up and we start to lose the sun. Something’s coming in.
There’s twenty miles of this though, twenty miles in which except for a fast downhill stretch on a highway we rarely see a car or other human at all and never pass through a community or even a small cluster of houses. If it weren’t for the trucks moving on the highway in the distance or the occasional immigrant field worker we see pedaling a work bike in other direction it feels like a scene we could have ridden through a century ago.
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2 weeks ago
Sound track: Aeolian Tale, by Oregon
And then we come to the ‘short cut’, the late modification that shaved two miles off our route. We aren’t on it long at all before we both start having misgivings because the road surface is so much poorer, and at one point I suggest that maybe we should turn back and revert to the original route but we’re both still holding out hope for reaching San Severo in time for lunch so we press on. And then, like a mirage at first we see movement far in the distance that gradually resolves into a goat drive as we slowly approach. It probably takes a half mile or more before we catch up enough to catch all the delightful details and dynamics - goats climbing up the trees to snatch a few leaves before dropping down and racing to catch up with the flock again; dogs, six or seven of them, following along and keeping things moving, a few of them older and greyer and almost lame and struggling to keep the pace themselves; a few sheep that have a mind to run off into a field but are quickly reeled in by the dogs; and finally we ’re close enough to hear the whistling of the young man in control of this large flock of what must be five hundred or more goats, their wide horns bobbing in a line above them. It’s surely the second best goat drive we’ve ever encountered, second only to that unbelievable one descending Logara Pass on the coast of Albania - one of the most memorable experiences in our travels.
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2 weeks ago
It’s a thrilling show, but it definitely slows us down. For the next mile or so we travel about four miles an hour, being careful not to approach too closely so that we don’t agitate the dogs or the advancing army. Finally they come to their pasture, bolt into it and spread out, and we’re free to pick up the pace a bit for the final few miles to town.
In spite of that we make it to San Severo at two, and still in time for lunch. It takes us fifteen minutes more though before we find our restaurant even though it was never more than about three minutes away. When we arrive the place is nearly deserted - other than the staff there are only four men at a table just finishing up their meal.
I hold up two fingers and give a hopeful smile to man that greets us. He steps out the door, eyes our bikes, nods, and then walks us down the alley to the backside of the restaurant where they can be safely locked inside their parking lot. We’re brought a large carafe of water (which is kept full - we’ll go through three before we’re done), and then the waiter comes to take our order. There’s no menu, and the options are pasta with red sauce, vegetable pasta, or carbonara. And within that we can choose long or short noodles. We both choose the short-noodle carbonara and enjoy one of the best meals of the trip.
As we eat, these two men come by from time to time to check in and to inquire about us and our travels - where we are from, where we started, and whatever else they can glean from the little common language we share. And then the other diners leave, so they’re really just waiting for us so they can close shop. First though the chef comes out to meet us and find out if we enjoyed the meal; and then an elderly woman comes out of the kitchen to leave for the day, but not before stopping to welcome us and wish us a good journey.
We don’t linger over our meal, not wanting to hold them up; but when we’re done they ask if we’d like dessert and then bring out delicious slices of Easter cake, because it’s Holy Week. Rachael starts to beg off, saying she doesn’t want to get fat; but the chef looks at her laughs, and says she can eat whatever she wants because she’s a biker. And then I’m offered a limoncello which I regretfully decline; and then they finally they see us out the door so they can get on with their afternoon break.
Today's ride: 34 miles (55 km)
Total: 134 miles (216 km)
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