Exploring ruins
Salerno to Matera, 12th - 17th May
I spent a week in Salerno. By the time day seven came around, I was sick of being sick and I was tired of the town. The hostel kept me entertained at least, with a constant flow of travellers, but being three floors up also felt a bit like being trapped in a tower. What I had was probably some kind of viral stomach bug and at times I felt quite weak and unable to do much - a twenty minute round trip to the supermarket felt like a serious excursion. After sensibly waiting an extra day to recover my strength I was eager to leave Salerno as soon as possible and get moving again. This would mean missing the Amalfi coast, but I didn't mind too much - it seemed likely to be a bit too touristy and crowded for my tastes. Salerno had long lost its charm too and had personally offended me with bad kimchi (that I'd walked forty minutes to buy!) so I was out of there.
Still, being sensible, I was sure to take it easy going back into cycling. Between my family visiting for five days and my week sick, I'd been off for almost two weeks. For the next few days I planned to ride shorter distances and sleep in a real bed. It would be more expensive than camping but my time in Salerno had been pretty cheap between the €18/night hostel and not eating much. My plan was to follow the coast southwards, first to Paestum and continuing down to Maratea. This had been Paul's route and I was quite happy to follow his recommendation for the beauty.
It doesn't take much for me to add somewhere to my plans. A single recommendation will usually do it, and the ruins of the town of Paestum had come recommended from my Warmshowers host in Rome. Rome! They must be some good ruins, then. Indeed, I love walking around the ancient Greek temples: apparently some of the best preserved that exist. After a lovely ruin-filled evening, though, my plans for the next few days cycling were also ruined. Looking at the map, my planned route south along the coast was going to be quite hilly. Mountainous, almost. Under other circumstances I might have been fine with this as the price you pay for quiet, beautiful landscapes, but in my 'easing back into it' mode it wouldn't be the smartest decision. A rethink would be required.
Geographically, I'd painted myself into a corner in Paestum, hemmed in by the mountains and the sea. To move forward, I'd happily cheat a little and take a train through the mountains, but here my options were also limited by line closures around Potenza. After some research and advice I ended up with a plan to take trains northeast to Ariano Irpino and rejoin EuroVelo 5, the pilgrim path. I'd have to stay in Benevento for a night along the way since the slow train to Ariano only ran once a day. This overnight stay proved to be quite a useful bit of slack in my schedule because on my way to Benevento via Naples, Naples had an earthquake. Nothing too dramatic, thankfully - magnitude 4.4 with no casualties - but trains were suspended, and my train spent around two hours stopped in a very familiar place: Nocera Inferiore. In a strange coincidence, I was waiting for my train to move in the same town I had waited exactly seven days earlier, down to the hour. The train eventually reversed back to Salerno (hello again) where I finally caught a train to Benevento.
In Benevento, I was happily making my way to a cheap B&B for the night when a driver called out to me on the road and stopped for a chat. He was incredibly enthusiastic about travel, explaining that he also had taken the Via Francigena walking in the past. He seemed excited to meet a kindred spirit, asking me what he could give me to help (much appreciated but I'm fine) and getting his friend to take a picture of us together. In the south of Italy sometimes you really get treated like a celebrity as a bike traveller. It's quite strange but naturally also flattering, and it's easy to see how it could get to your head, especially combined with travelling solo. I've noticed that some solo travellers tend to talk a lot about themselves and I try to resist falling into it myself but I certainly fail sometimes (yes, I recognise the irony of saying that on my personal travel blog).
The next day, my train to Ariano Irpino was practically smooth sailing - only forty minutes delayed, a perfect time to chat with two Dutch bike travellers taking the train to Bari on their way to Athens (it's funny how train stations are some of the best places to meet other bike travellers). From Ariano Irpino, the path of EuroVelo 5 was delightfully rural - exactly what I'd wanted after the more developed stretch from Naples to Paestum. It would be easy to see only one or two towns a day and vehicles were wonderfully rare. Like Tuscany, it seemed that the landscape here was sufficiently hilly that it resisted development. In fact, I saw many areas which looked completely uncultivated, with nothing but tall wild grass and the occasional abandoned house. I was pleased to see many wind turbines around, and not just as a fan of renewables. I haven't seen many in Italy so far and I felt oddly comforted in the similarity to the wind turbine landscapes of northern Germany from my last trip, like my 'bike trip' persona feels at home in that landscape. Near Candela, I spotted some abandoned farm ruins close to the road and knew it was time to stop for the day. I'd been admiring ruins like these from a distance ever since the start of my trip in the North, and I wanted take the opportunity to camp by some before I left Italy. It was a little spooky to begin with, but after thoroughly exploring to establish the absence of any ghosts I felt quite safe to sit down and relax before setting up camp in a hidden spot for the night.
The next two days were a bit more rainy and cold, which dampened my spirits and (a little) my health, so I didn't much appreciate the towns of Venosa and Gravina, except for that I was sleeping in beds. I did take a moment to explore some natural caves on the way into Venosa. I'd heard that caves could be an option for wild camping and I was curious what they were like inside, but I concluded it probably wasn't for me. The inside was cold and humid with a slightly soft dirt floor and one very mossy area. I dreaded to think what I might inhale if I slept there a whole night, and I also didn't like the idea of accidentally placing myself in a corner that an animal might consider to be its turf. I have no idea if these fears are rational, but it was enough to put me off.
Many of the abandoned houses in Puglia seem to be of the same design, a big concrete cube with an external staircase. I wonder why this might be - something from the Fascist era? When one appeared tantalisingly close to the road, I figured I had to go explore one of these houses before leaving the country. Despite knowing that there was no reason for anybody to be inside, I was extremely on edge as I walked through the empty rooms. The windows had been bricked up, and when a bird flew in or out through the gap of a missing brick, the sound echoed through the house. Some rooms were quite dark and I peeked through every doorway with my pocket knife outstretched just for peace of mind. When I was thoroughly satisfied there were no evildoers lurking within, I was able to relax and sit down for a snack. Apart from the beer bottles and inexplicable lengths of hosepipe inside, it would make a decent place to camp. I'd probably prefer to pick one a bit further away from the road if I were really going to do it, and probably not as my first resort, given the unknown risk of cave-ins.
Gravina was not far from the town I'd been aiming for since I left Paestum, and on Saturday afternoon I would finally reach Matera. This was a place I'd been recommended by an acquaintance a thousand kilometres ago in Bologna and after taking one look at the pictures I'd stuck it in my plans and avoided further spoilers. It wasn't quite on my way to Bari, the port where I'd get a ferry to Greece, but I considered it worth the detour to visit a town that was supposedly cut from rock. I was quite excited to arrive.