We are staying in Mazara for two nights, at a comfortable B&B at the quiet dead end of a back alley in the Arab quarter. Last night and this morning at least, we have the place to ourselves. The owner met us at the gate last night, left us with keys and instructions, and departed. It is very pleasant this morning to linger in the kitchen over a second cup of espresso (after we finally figured out how to operate the Lavazza) - it's almost like having our own apartment for a few days.
The focal point of our loop ride today is Salemi, a town in the interior about 25 miles northeast of here. It must be up a bit - our host on hearing our plan raised his eyebrows, whistled, and pointed to the sky. We'll see for ourselves soon enough.
First though, we wheeled our bikes through the old city, taking in some of the sights. Mazara is a very attractive place, with a remarkable set of attractions clustered tightly in a few block area around the waterfront. The city has Arabic origins, as is reflected in the convoluted street architecture of its Arab quarter, or casbah. It is still largely Arabic, with a large Tunisian population. It is also a major fishing port, one of the largest in Italy. It makes a fascinating place to wander through and just see what you will stumble across next.
The Sicilian flag. The central figure is a triskelion (from the Greek word for three bent legs), with the head of a medusa surrounded by three bent legs representing the three major capes that define the triangular shape of the island. The flag arose during World War II as the banner of the Sicilian independence movement, and became the official flag of the island only in year 2000. The icon is very old though, dating back to the Phoenecians in the fourth century BC. Interestingly, the flag of the Isle of Man has a very similar central image.
I'd like to know what this beautiful old tree is. At sundown, it was filled with hundreds of chattering birds, their sound loudly echoing across the small square.
In the Arab quarter, Mazara del Vallo. Many of the streets and alleys in this quadrant are decorated with colorful painted ceramic tiles, often in a theme matching the name of the street.
Wall art on Via Sant' Agustino, the alleyway leading to our B&B. Interestingly, this alley has several other risqué or suggestive works of art, leading us to wonder about the history of this neighborhood. Some of this appears in Rachael's video of our ride down this alley.
The ride to Salemi is beautiful - another morning spent on totally empty flower-margined roads through attractive countryside. We're cycling into a bit of a headwind, but conditions are fine for cycling - about 60 degrees, and gradually clearing as we move inland from the overcast coast. It grows gradually hillier as we move inland, and eventually Salemi rises above us. It will be a climb alright, but it doesn't look too bad - just another hilltop town, perhaps 1000' above the valley floor. I'm glad we are approaching from this direction, because from this angle it is quite beautiful - open and exposed, framed a bit by the surrounding foothills.
In the midst of young vineyards, an abandoned and crumbling estate of some sort. Ruins like this are a common site in the depopulated interior.
Biking northeast toward Salemi. Much of the ride this morning was like this: tranquil, empty roads lined with uncut roadside vegetation in bloom and sprawling onto the pavement. For an hour or so we had the world to ourselves.
Once we reach Salemi though, it's quickly apparent that the tour guide made a route planning error. Most of the elevation gain comes in about the final five blocks, up an ultra steep, badly surfaced street that dead ends at the base of a staircase. Terrific. We aren't about to drop back down again and pick a different approach, so we carry our bikes up a flight, round a corner, and come to a fork in the 'road' - both options are staircases. We can't see where either goes, because this is another old Arab quarter full of crooked, short alleys. At random we pick the one on the left, which we soon discover was a poor choice because it dead ends. Down, back up again on the right one.
And so on. Fifteen or twenty minutes later we finally make our way up to the paved network on the top, and cruise around looking for a lunch stop. We soon find one - a bar on a small attractive square. For the next half hour we sit basking in the sun, enjoying our grilled rice balls and panini, and watch as a far less adventurous pair of cyclists bikes up from the other side of the hill, looking refreshed but hungry. It doesn't look like they've been lugging their bikes up any stairs recently.
Looking up at Salemi, from what I imagine is its most photogenic side. The operative word here is up. Steeply up.
We had thought our work would be largely done after leaving Salemi, and that we would drop off the hill and then breeze back to town. My estimate for the day was for 1,500' elevation gain, and we had already passed that. I had misremembered the ride I'd mapped out for the day though - as soon as we were done coasting out of Salemi and hit the valley floor, we gradually started climbing again; and continued climbing all the way to Santa Ninfa, at the same elevation as Salemi.
Then though, it really was generally downhill and downwind all the way, and was a great ride - except for getting through Castelvetrano, which stunk. We hit it right at the evening rush hour, and it's narrow thoroughfares were jammed. It is one of the few parts of our tour so far that I disliked.
Total elevation gain: today, 3,400; for the tour, 17,000.
Looking back toward Salemi from our climb to Santa Ninfa atop the neighboring ridge. Our road was the serpentine line that bisects the photo. Once we left the town limits, we've hardly seen a car.
