Get out the Map

“Get out the map, get out the map and lay your finger anywhere down....” and following the Indigo Girl’s lyrics, we pretty much did just that on our great Sicilian camping adventure. We knew we wanted (had) to start and end in Catania where our rental van lived when it wasn’t in the hands of road warriors, and the rest was . . . well . . . a finger-point away.

First stop: Taormina, a narrow-streeted beauty perched above the coast. The plan was to wake with the sunrise, drive the camper to the foothills, hike up to town, and in the afternoon cool off with a swim at nearby Isola Bella. The crowds were thick, and the parking was thin. A GPS-led maze crawl where streets continued to narrow until we stacked traffic up behind and in front as we attempted a U-turn almost had us giving up entirely. Eventually we returned to the base to an expensive bus parking lot. Clearly the rich and famous had found Taormina - the high-end stores with their global-shopper sensibility were everywhere, but it was still magical. One of the main tourist attractions is the Greek theatre ruin which is not a ruin at all –and was running a production of Carmen. THAT would have been beautiful to see and hear at night. This was definitely a town that you could spend a lot of time in as it has all of the comforts and excitement for the modern “cashed-up” traveller. But as a friend told us later, “many people come spend a week in Taormina and think they have been to Sicily”. For us, our parking adventure and day trip was enough. And that big ball of orange would be sinkin' soon. We had realised seeing that nightly event was one of the most luxurious of our time on the road.

Finding driving routes was a bit of a crap shoot. The night before we were leaving our first pitch, we stumbled across some route recommendations online that would take us through the Parco della Madonie. Add in some of the beautiful, less-touristy towns that sit within it and we were sold. We hit Enna first and headed up the increasingly familiar hairpin turns, wandered through the Castello di Lombardia, admired the Duomo interiors and climbed to the famous Rocca di Cerere with its pano views. Then it was back down the hairpins and onto more hairpins within the park (yes, the height and top heaviness of the van made this even more exciting). Our reward for the nail-biting, but bella vista voyage was the town of Petralia Soprana. Tucked up and away from the surrounding farmlands, it was a treat to wander through empty streets, gawking at the architecture and searching for an open café. We ended up in a small family-run bakery for paninis and a complementary glass of wine in a plastic cup while we waited – a small gesture leaving a big impression considering we communicated mostly through smiles and hand signals.

Sitting right outside of Parco della Madonie is the city of Cefalu. For Robert, a very familiar sir name and one of many he grew up with in South Louisiana that belonged to families of Italian descent. Trapani, Siracusa, Raguza, Messina – even the island of Lipari was on the map. A little research revealed a direct tie between the city of Palermo and New Orleans through a shipping route dating back to the 19th century. At some point in Louisiana history class this was probably studied, but the mind forgets. With a closeness to the Italian community (including relatives), it’s good to understand the connection firsthand. We had a quick walk around Cefalu, a granita as a quick escape from the heat and eventually landed in Trapani. We also found time to visit San Vito lo Capo during this stay, a large beach with miles of bright umbrellas and the August school holiday crowds we'd come to expect.

It wasn’t all drive, beach, town and sunsets on the trip. The spectacular Zingaro Nature Reserve gave us a blistering hike to some of the most amazing rock pools. We timed it just right and had an energising swim before the crowds arrived. It really was the reward we’d wanted, worth every bit of sweat put in to get there. Nature at its finest.

On travel days, we were always looking for unique stops. The Salt Road towards Marsala was a combination of highway and seaside village pass-throughs that gave us a glimpse of centuries-old salt marshes. Not an amazing tourist attraction, but it broke up the drive - something you need with a lack of shock absorbers in a camper van.

The one attraction in any destination we won’t miss is ruins. Climbing through them always makes Erik feel like a kid in a theme park and Robert can’t get enough of the visuals. Selinunte and Agrigento - the places the Greeks left behind when they settled in Sicily over 2500 years ago - were as amazing as any we’d seen this year. At Selinunte, there were few crowds and no barriers, and we wandered at a slow pace taking it all in. A short drive away, Agrigento had long ticket queues, and very little available parking. We marvelled from the comfort of our front row seats of the Indie Campervan. Don’t worry, go Indie.

These were the man-made wonders that had lasted centuries and can’t be denied their importance in history. Nearby was a naturally sculpted, awe-inspiring masterpiece that is another must see: the Scala di Turchi. Magnificent white cliffs drop off into the ocean, carved through wind and water and time. From some angles, they resemble a sinking ship, slowly melting into the surf. This is a place that inspires meditation and a genuine appreciation of the power of nature . . . even with the selfie sticks wielded from below.

Apart from the adjustment to being newly converted middle-aged backpackers, our vita del lusso had few worries. Yes, there was the heat (which we loved in between swims) and the crowds (which we adjusted to), but there was always good wine, amazing food and beautiful people, inside and out. Our final tourist stops were the baroque cities of Siracusa (Syracuse), Modica and Noto. Syracuse is UNESCO listed and its Città Vecchia is a small island named Ortygia. Modica is famous for its chocolate and Noto is . . . well, a stunning example of that period's architecture. They were fitting ways to end the visual feast that is Southern Italy.

Southern Italy wasn’t put on our agenda until we had already travelled for almost 6 months. There was talk of a walk along the Amalfi coast, a tour of Scandinavia where Erik has never been or a nostalgic re-visit to Tuscany. A few nights of research resulted in images of crystal-clear water and stone walled villages in Salento and Sicily. Once it was decided we knew there was one person we wanted to stop in to see: a friend of Robert’s he hadn’t been face to face with in over 30 years. His farmland near Noto has a vista like no other and we dropped by for a few hours, meeting Marcello, another friend enjoying this beautiful space. We were invited and came back for our last night. Olive trees, stone fences, fruiting pomegranate and small vineyards dot the countryside from the hilltop view. It is majestic, yet tranquil. The campervan parked, we settled in for the feeling of home that only comes from being with friends, new and old. Thank you Byron, Marcello . . . and Bella, Axel and Vondalina.