It was my husband Ludo’s idea to go to Puglia. Neither of us have spent much time in Italy and he was intrigued by a region that is often paired with the adjective ‘undiscovered’. And it was the Salento peninsula that intrigued him most.
The Salento Peninsula is Italy’s heel – the south-eastern extreme of the country. Far from being ‘undiscovered’ it has, for millennia, been an area of strategic and cultural influence, much battled over by warring tribes from the Spartans to the Romans to the Ottomans. Castles, fortifications, and watchtowers are as much a feature of this region as its pastoral patchwork of olive groves, fields, and farms. And its ‘end of the world’ charms have not gone unnoticed by today’s travellers looking to get away from the crowds. The internet is full of personal accounts and recommendations of what to see and do in Puglia, as well as tour operators all vying for business.
Holidays are different things for different people. Some want nothing more than to ‘fly and flop’, others want the vibrancy of a new city, or adrenalin-fuelled adventure. Some seek the reassurance and sociability of group travel; others are happy to wing it and go solo. And what we’ve come to realise is that we like a bit of everything – an active trip that gives us the chance to explore an area independently at our own pace, where we can see places of cultural interest and then retreat from the crowds, and cover enough ground to give real insight into an area, but still have time to relax.
The Salento Peninsula is Italy’s heel – the south-eastern extreme of the country. Far from being ‘undiscovered’ it has, for millennia, been an area of strategic and cultural influence, much battled over by warring tribes from the Spartans to the Romans to the Ottomans. Castles, fortifications, and watchtowers are as much a feature of this region as its pastoral patchwork of olive groves, fields, and farms. And its ‘end of the world’ charms have not gone unnoticed by today’s travellers looking to get away from the crowds. The internet is full of personal accounts and recommendations of what to see and do in Puglia, as well as tour operators all vying for business.
Holidays are different things for different people. Some want nothing more than to ‘fly and flop’, others want the vibrancy of a new city, or adrenalin-fuelled adventure. Some seek the reassurance and sociability of group travel; others are happy to wing it and go solo. And what we’ve come to realise is that we like a bit of everything – an active trip that gives us the chance to explore an area independently at our own pace, where we can see places of cultural interest and then retreat from the crowds, and cover enough ground to give real insight into an area, but still have time to relax.
And a true holiday for me is when I don’t have the stress of trying to work out an itinerary and its logistics. So rather than wade through reams of web pages, social media posts, and blogs, I went back to
Inntravel.Over the years I’ve done a number of Inntravel’s walking trips, but Ludo wanted the chance to see more of the region than we could manage in a week of walking. ‘How about going by bike?’ he suggested. I can ride a bike, but I’m not a regular cyclist. We did – 20 years ago – cycle around Cuba, with all our luggage shoved into bulky panniers. I got on my trusty bicycle in Havana and it was so heavy I needed a downhill start just to get it moving. For the first week I pushed it up every hill, cursing, not always under my breath. But it got easier, and it was, undeniably, a wonderful way to see and experience the island. But we hadn’t done any cycling holidays since. ‘This will be much easier’, Ludo said, looking at my doubtful face. ‘We won’t have to cycle with our luggage and there is the option of electric bikes…’
We arrived in the ancient city of Lecce by train, two days and 1,500 miles from our home in Wales. We spent a night in Turin on the way – although once we arrived and spent an evening walking the elegant streets of the old centre, we wished we’d given ourselves the time to stay two nights there and the chance to see more. Instead, we boarded another train the next morning and were transported the length of the country in ten restful hours.
Our journey started near the small village of Acaya. At Roberto’s family farm, where we were welcomed off the train like old friends, we sat beneath a vine-covered arbour eating dinner that Roberto had cooked using many of their own homegrown ingredients. We watched the sky darken, the moon rise, and awoke
the next morning to the sound of crickets and birds and a bountiful breakfast to fuel us for the day ahead. This area of Puglia may not be entirely ‘undiscovered’, but outside the main towns, it is a region of farms, small villages, and scattered settlements connected by narrow lanes that wind between stone walls. Mainly flat, with often expansive views over its craggy shoreline to the distant smudge of an endlessly blue horizon, it is a landscape that is ideal for exploring by bike.
We were introduced to our bikes (we had chosen electric – not really necessary, given the kindness of the terrain, but a luxury nonetheless) and were soon whisking through the countryside, blissfully unburdened by our luggage, which was transported ahead to our next destination.
And so began six days of discovering that this part of Puglia really does feel ‘undiscovered’. Even its coastal towns like Otranto and Santa Maria di Leuca and Gallipoli have a gentle charm and authenticity which is all too often buried or banished by over-tourism. Our daily routes – clearly described and easy to follow – took us down the coast, or circled inland, and none of them exceeded 60 kilometres. There was always time to stop and wander the streets of the small towns we passed through, or take a detour, or find a place to swim. It was late June and hot, although I discovered that the great advantage of cycling is that the heat feels a lot less oppressive when on the move, because you generate your own breeze.
We looked forward every morning to what the day’s ride would reveal next. We loved the contrast of the coastal roads – the air salty and fresh, the sea an ever-shifting kaleidoscope of mirrored light – with
the narrow inland lanes, pungent with wild thyme and figs.It was sad to see the loss of so many olive trees to a fatal bacteria, but heartening to see so many new olive groves being established and seemingly thriving. And every night we looked forward to the peace and friendly informality of the farm stays, with their cool, comfortable rooms, home-cooked food, and ever-genial hosts.
We chose to cycle the whole way to Gallipoli, rather than take the truncated option. We were really enjoying this pace of travel and the immersion it allowed in our surroundings – not just the sights, but the sounds and smells, small details and interactions. And to cycle over the bridge into the deep shade of the Old Town’s winding cobbled streets, to prop our trusty bikes against the sea wall and, with cold beer in hand, reflect on what we’d seen and how far we’d come, in the amber light of the sinking sun, felt about as good as it gets.