The element of surprise can often be wonderful. And sometimes not……
“Are we in Scotland or Sicily?” These were the first words Rodney uttered on Tuesday morning as the rain crashed down on Eileen’s roof and she swayed with every huge gust of wind. I peeked through the curtains and could see white horses riding the ocean and Spring leaves being ripped from the trees. We stayed in bed and cancelled today.
Well we didn’t cancel the whole day. When the rain eased for a short while, we walked down to the ‘beach’ and then along the main road into the deserted town of Finale. We found a café open and I enjoyed my first cup of thick Italian hot chocolate with a ricotta cream cannoli. Delicious.
On Wednesday morning, the rain and the crazy wind suddenly stopped and the sun came out in all its glory. We drove along the coast to Cefalu and parked in the enormous carpark on the sea front. “€15 please, but you can stay for 24 hours”, “yes and you can sleep in the van over the night”. So we did. But first, a climb up La Rocca looked like it could be good training for Rodney’s next trip to Nepal. I don’t need to be in training; I’m not going to Nepal. But I dragged myself up that steep hill with him and soaked up the lovely views from the ruined castle at the top.
The Temple of Diana amongst the purple thistles
The Duomo and old town from the sea front
We ate a tasty lunch at a rather breezy waterfront restaurant in the old town and then ambled through the grid of narrow roads back to Eileen for a Nanna nap. When the town came back into life, we promenaded back along the sea front and had a drink with a slice of pizza in the Piazza Duomo and watched the setting sun turn the western front of the cathedral a lovely golden yellow. After watching the sun sink into the sea, we had another drink in a wine bar and through the window watched the sea slowly turn to black.
We slept long and heavily in the beach car park and when we left the next morning, we noticed we were surrounded by campervans from Slovenia, Italy, France, Serbia, Austria and another Brit; what a multicultural enclave!
There are signs along the autostradas that state ‘Turn on your lights on the motorway’, but no-one does; this is Italy.
Having driven along most of the north coast, we now know that it is a continual series of bays, large and small, and the mountains and hills stand sentinel over each bay and reach down to touch the sea in so very many places.
When we turned off the autostrada at Castellammare del Golfo, the scenery changed quite dramatically and we zigzagged our way up towards San Vito Lo Capo. The village of Castelluzzo sprawled along the main road and reminded us more of Mexico than Italy, a real one-horse town, although we never did see a single horse. We did see the Restaurante Sombrero and when we arrived, a little further on at the campsite, we could hear a donkey creating one helluva racket in a field nearby.
Camping El Bahira, four stars apparently, hmmmm. We had briefly thought about staying for a few nights, it’s set in a very scenic area, but it’s a strange place. There isn’t really a beach and the rocks are covered with poo from the sheep that wander across it. The two toilet blocks are spectacular, although the enormous line of mirrors is set at least 5 feet 6inches from the ground; I can’t think of many women who could use them. Then there is only one block of showers working and they are terrible. They consist of cubicles, outdoors, behind the loos; no roof, just walls and mouldy concrete floors and they are for men and women, no segregation. You have to select one, put your towel etc. inside, then go back outside to put a blue plastic stick in a machine and press the number of the cubicle you want to use. The ‘warm’ water immediately starts to flow down the drain, while you dash back, lock the door, take your clothes off and then get only two minutes of water. When the two minutes are up, it immediately stops, there is no way of turning it on to get more water. We had been told we had five minutes of hot water, so I was well soaped up when the water cut out and boy did I curse. Then I remembered that, a few cubicles down, there were some showers that had only cold water, so I grabbed my towel and ran naked to one of them to rinse off in freezing water under a chilly sky. It was not a good look for a nearly 60-year-old woman, though I do hope the man who was sitting nearby enjoyed the sight. A quick dash back to my cubicle to dry off and get dressed, left me angry, annoyed, frustrated and teary. You can’t even put the token back in again, as you’re only allowed one shower each per day. There’s also only one washing machine functioning for the whole campsite, so our fingers are crossed that we can get to use it in the morning; we have sheets, towels and a pile of clothes that need washing.
Then there’s the swimming pool. It looks lovely, with a plentiful amount of very smart sunbeds. But when we wandered down there, an ugly rope was tied around the pool. Unbelievably, the pool is closed all afternoon, every day. You cannot go in the water between 1pm and 4pm. The only time of day when it’s warm enough to want to go in!!!! When the lifeguard decided to re-open at 4pm, two Dutch chappies had already dived in and he told them to get out immediately because they weren’t wearing swimming caps. I cannot work out how a campsite can have disgusting showers and yet worry about a hair in the swimming pool. The lifeguard looked like Kojak with his very shiny bald head and we wondered if he puts a cap on, if he has to dive in and save someone. I also noted that he locked away all the lifesaving equipment when the pool was closed, which struck me as highly dangerous, surely that’s when it should be available. What a place……!
