The night was turbulent, that is the wind was so strong, that the windows of the B&B where we were, Tenth day of our trip to Sicily. The night was dangerous, that is the wind was so strong, that the windows of the B&B where we were, under his push, they hissed tremendously, but there was no draft, only noise. I tried unsuccessfully to sleep. I get up and discover that, in the small room where there are two single beds, the noise is much lower. I equip myself with cotton and put it in my ears, I dive into one of the two beds and I manage to fall asleep.
At dawn I open the windows, there is haze and clouds on the horizon. I decide anyway to go to the salt pan where I spotted flamingos yesterday. I get on the bike and go. When I arrive in the salt pan, the sun comes out of the mountain, and for a moment finds a hole in the mist, just enough for a photo with flamingos in the foreground.
I will never forget the breakfast that is offered to us, it is gargantuan in quantity, but superfine in quality. All home made food. Bread “cunsato” with tomatoes, primosale cheese, oregano in a bread made with mother yeast. Homemade orange marmalade, with ricotta in the middle, orange focaccia, a mega Sicilian cannoli, grapes, white melon, prickly pears, spectacular. We didn’t have anything left over, other guests took the food and took it with them. He seemed unattractive to us and at the cost of dying, we ate everything, we wanted to honor so much goodness and kindness.
Before leaving, the owner of the B & B “Il casolare nelle saline” also gives us 1 kg of raw salt with the warning to use little of it because he eats more than what we find in the supermarket. We discover that if we had opened the bedroom window, we would not have heard any more hissing. Okay, next time the sirocco hits us, we’ll know what to do.
We set off and the sirocco is there and is felt with gusts at 60 km / h, only in the late afternoon is a decrease in wind power expected. In the meantime we have to pedal. Cri is happy that today there are no climbs, blessed innocence! Innocence that soon loses hearing what it means to pedal against the wind at that speed. Not to mention the embarkation due to the bags that act as a sail. You have to compensate by folding the bike against the wind, in short, we are almost on a sailing boat. There are many moments that we have to trudge with 36/28, the physical means are what they are, have patience and mercy! A Cri escapes a phrase that could become historic: “Always in front, always in front, but once in a while also behind!” Let’s talk about wind eh!
The Marsala stagnone appears to us in the form of a myriad of wings that flutter on the horizon. It is not a flock of seagulls or flamingos, but a few hundred kitesurf enthusiasts who take advantage of the wind suitable for their sport.
Ordered piles of salt, alongside windmills that interrupt the horizon, follow one another continuously, at the edge of the tanks, which have different colors depending on the degree of ripeness of the salt.
We arrive at the boarding point for the island of Mozia, but they don’t let us get on the bikes. We desist! There are not the necessary structures to be able to enjoy art and culture proposals by cyclists with luggage in tow, we know this and also the programs we develop take this into account.
We follow the coast of the Stagnone until we reach Marsala. A tour in the center, with some photos of the Baroque buildings and Roman remains. Also, for friends, a photo with a red mask and red bandana, in memory of the landing of Garibaldi’s red shirts!
Given the few kilometers and the hour, we continue towards Mazara del Vallo along the coast. The sea is rough and in some places, the strongest waves bounce off the road. The water is not that of Capo d’Orlando. Due to the storm surges, algae have accumulated on the coast, which by rotting, release a rather pronounced smell of sulfur. Cri complains about the stench and the not entirely remote danger of a splash of dead algae, as happened to the cars 50 meters ahead. We keep to the left of the road for a good 500 meters to avoid the black and smelly spray.
The road near Mazara is a grape lover’s paradise. Expanses of vineyards as far as the eye can see. We are completely surrounded by vineyards, we do not see the limit of vine cultivation. Incredible, never seen anything like it.
Let’s go back to the sea and the beaches are really beautiful, with very fine white sand. However, the strong wind lifts the sea foam by nebulizing it and creating a fog effect on the horizon.
The track takes us to Mazara on the other side of the canal. Google insists that this is the right way. A gentleman of clear North African origin tells us that there was a ferry there but it is gone, to follow him and he takes us where we need to cross a bridge. We immediately understand from the faces, from the clothes, from the shops, that we have arrived in a place of aggregation of cultures, that we must abandon our heritage and our unconscious fears, and taste this cultural and human mixture that is Mazara, known on the continent only for to have a large fleet of fishing boats and for the clashes at sea with Libyan patrol boats, but it is quite another thing and we will find out tomorrow. Today 51 km and 150 in altitude.
