Trapani to Marsala

Thursday 4th March.
Trapani to Marsala

This should be at the bottom but I deleted it by mistake! It's an old Marsala bodega sadly long since fallen upon hard times since the days when Woodhouse and Admiral Nelson did business.

In the night the Scirocco had abated a bit, but soon raised it’s ugly head again as the sun rose. However we wanted to move on, so headwind or not we were on our way. We stopped at the internet cafe to book into somewhere tonight and met a man who left England a month before us and was living on his boat with his son in the lee of the old castle at the northern end of this harbour. We had seen a beleaguered looking yacht going around in circles yesterday and this was him. Apparently his mooring line (the one provided by the harbour-master) had come adrift in all the wind yesterday and luckily he had been on board because if not, the boat would have been on the rocks. It was good to chat to another Englishman escaping like us.
In the bar where the Trapani B&B 
sent us for breakfast they sold the local delicacy - marzipan fruit. We didn't try it but it looks delicious.

The ride to Marsala was pretty dull this area being flat and fairly built up, but we did see our first swallow for some time, which is not so surprising as they will be arriving in Dorset in the next 3 weeks. There was a short spell where there were no houses but that just intensified the wind strength and Vivi was lucky not to be blown into the middle of the road. As we approached Marsala we reckoned it was about time we tried out the local wine and after a little confusion were given a glass of Rosso which was nice but when we were half way down it the barman brought us a glass each of the sweet port like Marsala which is really what we were after and was extremely good.

Ah, that first glass of Marsala!

Salt production - unlike the Spanish the Italians cover theirs with roof tiles.

After that the ride was a lot easier, we picnicked on the most easterly point of Sicily – where they venerate the lives of those lost in the 3rd Punic war 149-146BC. At this point the Tyrrhenian Sea joins the Mediterranean Sea and it was fairly churned up and windswept. On the other side of the road was a long abandoned Marsala Bodega. It must have been a very impressive building in the days when Nelson was buying tanker loads of it to serve to the Navy. An historical point here for Dorset people, it was all started by none other than John Woodhouse, who worked out that if you added alcohol, this wine would keep for longer. Apparently there are over 160 different varieties now all sold under the same umbrella.

Where the seas meet - bit lumpy today!

In memory of the Punic wars

First green leaves of the 2010 Marsala vintage.

Once around the tip of the promontory we had a tail wind which was bliss so shot along. The sea had brought in mountains of seaweed which had the appearance of rocks all along the coast and gave off a very pungent smell. We arrived at our hotel with an extra skin of seaweed attached to us and our panniers.

Washed up seaweed - an awful lot of which seemed to get stuck to us too!

Our hotel was 3 miles outside the town and is apparently the height of luxury in the summer, but it had just re-opened so had a forlorn/disused air. We were sent across the road for supper where there was an enormous restaurant with about 100 people having a family party. We were put in a corner and it was better than watching telly! The noise was unbelievable and there were babies and children running everywhere. They managed to cook us some delicious pasta with crab sauce and then insisted on giving us fabulous tiny ricotta and filo pastries and a glass of Marsala so we were absolutely groaning, luckily we had to walk home. However much you say that you only want one course, they have a habit of producing something extra which is very kind but not at all good for the waistline. The other night we munched our way through pizza which is delicious but always too big to finish, and then they produced pizza covered with Nutella for pudding! The chef hovers around saying ‘you like-ah ma pizza?’ so on we chomp.