Calabria

Calabria, the province on the sole of Italy’s boot, is the original home of many of Western Australia’s Italian families. They emigrated during the 1950s via assisted passages, leaving one of Italy’s poorest regions which had been further devastated by an earthquake in 1953. Mostly young men, the pioneering migrants seized the opportunity to work hard, then started vineyards, market gardens and small businesses of their own. Once established, they sent home for the rest of the family, and for brides. In some cases, entire Calabrian villages were transplanted to WA.

 

We hired a car for a few days to explore the Calabrian countryside while Common Sense was moored in the nice little town of Le Castella. It was fascinating to see the small towns and villages nestled in the valleys, or perched atop the steep hills. Some of them look as though they haven’t changed since the 1950s – except for the satellite dishes beaming in endless soccer matches and melodramatic soapies.

Driving was fun, if your idea of fun includes hairpin bends on mountainsides, potholes the size of bathtubs, driving along ridges with a sheer 500 metre drop on both sides and numerous Italians overtaking you on blind corners at high speed. A bit of a buttock-clencher for me, but Terry embraced his inner Andretti and was driving like a native after day 1 (apart from the blind corners, of course).

 

The scenery was really spectacular in the mountains north-west of Crotone, views of deep green woods, fertile farmlands and olive groves laid out in patterns and the hazy blue Med lapping it all in the distance. We found a beautiful lake in the mountains at Palumboso, eerily deserted despite the glorious weather and the spring flowers in bloom. It is a popular resort in the summer, and also for skiing in winter, but Italians, like Americans, seem to be on a strict holiday schedule – you go to certain places at certain times. The only place we could find open was a restaurant with an ice-rink inside! It wasn’t operating, but in the season it must be amusing to eat your pasta while watching a hockey game or some figure-skating. And the pasta al funghi was great, by the way, even though we were the only patrons.

 

Other excursions - to Crotone to see the Greek ruins and the archaeological digs and to Isola di Rizzuto – and we also grabbed the opportunity to fill our fuel cans (25 gallons = $A279) and do some heavy shopping (ie mostly beer). After a week we had become very fond of Le Castella, especially the ritual passeggiata up the main street each evening to the Camel Bar, where we could sit and enjoy a quiet drink and watch the passing parade.

Remaining column from the Temple of Hera at Crotone

A few days of good weather lay ahead, so it was time to set forth across the instep of Italy. Would we head for Santa Maria de Leuca on the heel of Italy (80 nautical miles*), the Greek islands north of Corfu (128 nm) or all the way to Albania (150nm)? It would all depend on the wind, the seas and our stamina.

Mystery destination...

* We travel at an average of 5 knots, which is 5 nm per hour