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January 17 Tuesday Bicycle touring France and Italy from Bonifacio Corse to a church near Porto Bello Corsica Arising earlier than usual (7:30 AM -- Hey, it's still dark) we pull up the stakes on our little bicycle touring tent and cycle back to the port at Bonificio. We notice frost on the grass and ice is on a downhill portion of road. "Ice," Sharon remarks as she slows down. "I know," I say, taking the opportunity to pass her. I look back to see her shaking her head. In town we buy food, enough for today and tomorrow until we can get Italian currency in Sardinia. The crossing costs $25 each and takes one hour as expected. The ferry is small. Two trucks of firewood and a long truck loaded high with cork; three cars; and a handful of walk-on passengers accompany us on our journey. We get a great view of the cliff side town of Bonificio, looking as if it is ready to crumble into the sea with a few giant waves. The old stone-coloured buildings camouflage with the surrounding rock. Upon arrival in Sardinia, the police pull Sharon and I aside and ask for our passports. I dig mine out and he sees I am Canadian. Sharon starts to take hers out and he sees the cover and asks "Canadian?" and waves us away without looking at them. We cycle into town centro, looking for a bank. I find one, but the auto teller doesn't like either Visa or MasterCard. I don't bother to ask the woman inside for a cash advance, figuring another Instant Teller is just around the corner. At the tourist Info we get some great English literature on the island explaining history and culture. Sharon was complaining last night that she would find cycle touring more interesting if she had things to read about the area. The auto bank teller around the corner refuses my cards too. And now the banks are closed for noon. We decide to cycle tour around the island in a counter-clockwise direction, so the sea is always closest to us on the road. Some ruins are indicated on our map at Porto Bello. We cycle trek four kilometres off the main road to see them and end up at a private multi residence housing complex set in a park-like setting. The guard says we can go in for ten minutes to look. We do. Lots of greenery and space between houses with a sea view. We stop at the guard when leaving and ask Why? He rubs his fingers together to indicate money. Lots of money. More questions about us being on fully loaded touring bicycles follow. Suddenly he runs to his guard shack to get us a shot of wine from his private bottle. It is excellent. He pours it into a real glass too. We cycle back, retracing our route, still looking for the ruins. Look. A sign. We cycle down the road until it peters out to a one-lane dirt path. Seep downhill. We pull our fully loaded touring bicycles to a stop and look at each other. These ruins are driving me to ruin. I would think they would have the decency to put ruins in accessible spots. We turn our touring bikes around. It is getting
late. At a crossroads there is a church. I go in to look for
water. The church is still being built. We camp at the back entrance.
Our meal is well blessed tonight as we eat with a huge cross
made from blue glass blocks at our backs. |
