Sicily, my Sicily - a dream come true! At last I will be able to see this magical island to finally see these mountains, learn these well-known special breed of people and finally - as I was often assured - can eat the best Italian cuisine.
Finally.
now bring only the trip behind me. Even Mr Wolfgang von Goethe must have become to wait long: "At three clock in the morning a violent storm in the sleeping and half-dream, I continued my dramatic tilt, however, was on the foredeck great movement, the sails are taken had, the ship floated on.. the high tides. "
He had days on. I
only 12 hours - by 6 clock early should we arrive.
Well, a full-blown storm, I can not stand - this is the SNAV Sicilia too big - but there is still swell. And what a! At some point, I lie awake, I even recognize the pattern in the waves. Three times it goes gently up and down - laaaaaangsam up, down laaaaangsam again. And the fourth time the ship makes a sentence. Every time it rushes so quickly down into the trough that occurs one in the stomach area as Heide Park Soltau. Physiologically makes me not mind, no question - but I somehow can not sleep really. Too much I fall back-to starboard and back again.
And so I lie to just before sunrise, more or less in the "half-dream," Goethe and my dream a few miles to the south, where the surf of the Mediterranean Sea to the shores of Sicily schwabbt.
With the first rays, I'm showered and am - still slightly chilly - on deck. Behind us the sun to a now much calmer sea, and together with a few other early risers, I stand there, inhale the clean, fresh salt air and look forward to landfall. How's my road bike deep in the bowels of the ship? It has survived the ups and downs of the night? Hairline cracks in the carbon - especially now that there are so tied tightly to the steel skeleton of the ferry - occur very quickly.
I wipe the stressful thoughts aside and stare out over the bow of the ship - there, there finally peels off at first dimly, then more clearly, the coast from the morning mist.
mountains! Nothing but rugged, steep mountains! Oha, I think, because I can still attract even warm! Not that I had not made me smart, what would happen in Sicily, but the first real sight of it is a bit intimidating - mountains!
slowly pushes the boat closer to shore. And in proportion as we approach the Near the coast, the barren rocky peaks up in the sky.
So, from prayer to the helmet ...
More and more people are moving increasingly into the deck. At last the sun is fully risen in the sky, they can appear in the blue sea, shines on the island to allow us an entrance that no Hollywood movie could have done better. And as always I am grateful also built on this tour with a boat ticket to have: To approach a city to a land of seaside, has once again genaz something special. have
The Lord Privy must have been quite fascinated on the front deck, as he describes his impressions thus:.. "The clear downside of all the buildings looked at us, illuminated by the reflection of Monte Pellegrino right, its graceful shapes in a more perfect light, left the far outstretched the shore of bays, headlands and promontories which produced also a most charming effect was the young green graceful trees, the tops, rear lights, like large masses of vegetable locust worms from the dark buildings now and then surged. A clear scent Blaut all shadows.
What language, right?
Before learning about board can roll strike - Hello, Italy - the dock workers Sometime around 8:00 we finally set. at. The Cervelo is obviously still intact. I step on the pedals jump in the steel ramp and find myself in a small container port of Palermo. It seems just a rain front retreat and so I salute a magnificent rainbow.
Buon giorno back, better weather gods!
the container port, I get quickly behind me and find myself once in a traffic bustle of the highest order again - Palermo awake. In usual Italian style it get hot in the streets - there is accelerated down, slowed down, bent, not blinking, honking gestures,, mama mia! called and wildly down, which I fear and worry is. to take pictures is impossible in this mess and I'm glad I like trance in the first kilometers of Palermo survive. The track's certainly like a dream to me - I turn on the harbor just to the left in the hope that this juggernaut at some point on a quiet street in the direction of Cefalù - to leave - my destination.
From Palermo even I get with anything.
is in fact the first four-lane highway, first two lanes, to then later turn it into a normal country road. There is less traffic, it still does not: The road will also continue to reach from the tifosi, as they would have in their Fiats, Fords, Alfas and ... Buses, the honor of defending Scudderia Ferrari. law it is tight for me.
And given the endless, some 50 cm deep pot-holes not much easier.
exciting I find the mountains of waste, which start only a few kilometers from the city center, once again stacked in number to the sky to pile up. Quickly get out of here, I think, in an hour or two it will have about 35 degrees Celsius. And how will this smell then I would not know.
The last thick rain clouds are falling slowly, eventually the traffic then finally moved to the highway, the parallel to highway 113 in high up to the summit winds and so I find myself just a few kilometers from Palermo back on a nearly empty street people and car. It rhododendrons blooming along the roadside, shaken in the wind over large cacti and rubber trees that are really as big as trees covered the roads. It smells wonderfully fresh, it gently uphill and downhill and I am only now fully awake - awake rancid by the ship's passage, growing from the trance-like morning-Jam Palermo.
I'm back on track!
me behind Palermo, finest asphalt below me - I am amazed! - And me a seemingly empty Island. It is pull shortly after 10 hard gusts at my road bike, but I'm happy. Join pure. Accelerating and trying to make me aware of this beautiful island. The plants, the air, the atmosphere ... my stomach! My stomach growls on suddenly, sending a small bear than a bloodcurdling scream to the sky. Oh my God, I think I have to eat breakfast so totally forgot!
einemal With time I will realize that I have taken since the bad chips, which I had indulged in Naples yesterday to sail, nothing more to me. And a handle to the middle of my bike Holm confirms this: even to drink is almost nothing left in the bottle!
idiot!
I hope for a gas station. on a cafe.
At a supermarket - anything!
But nothing comes. Instead
come first pitch - hard, poisonous increases. Instead comes the sun - and little shade. What use is the fantastic view when I drive here on Reserve?
Oh man, I swear into me, how can one be so stupid?
I sweat. With the outside temperature rises rapidly, the step motion also brings my body into gear. Soon, jersey and gloves are soaking wet. Röchle I think little spit to keep my mouth moist, and the Growling stomach is painfully slow.
cafes, gas stations, supermarkets, however, I find no - instead I'm going near the water's edge on a spectacular coastal road. Next to me a turquoise that it will take your breath, The Mediterranean appears truly at his best. A color, as the bite. Fresh is it if it creates a wind gust to high to me. Then she pulls on my road bike, forcing me to keep my course with a firm hand, I refreshed but with a salty flavor. Invigorating, but does not make enough of the wind.
some point - I count the miles - to reach for a sharp, steep rise, which is fortunately in a shady alley, a village. Through the highway along the top, gently rustles the long distance on idyllic past. The village is set in the hills like a fungus in a tree bark, fantastic homes boast about the possibility of a panoramic view from their terraces, that one is jealous. And it all away not 30 miles from Palermo.
Fantastic.
And here ... but must have opened a cafe!
Did it?
Did it please?
Yes, it has! I literally devour three doses iced tea, let me chocolate croissants are like a conveyor belt and enjoy three Cappucchini, now that I can still run the mouth water. The Lord Patron Check back in disbelief over to me and is happy that his baked goods find such rapid appeal.
I sit in the sun, old men greet me, I go back, I think my nose in the air and I'm like you now here, now reaching haste Sizlien really!
almost 30 minutes I need to get my blood sugar levels and elevate me to build up and fill my stomach. Safe: croissants and coffee is seen calorically not the best - but really not the worst of sports nutrition.
Gesträrkt I roll back on the road and take the rest of the way in attack.
Arreviderci Solanto I say! and find myself once again back at sea level, after I make some small but very fun runs behind me. Trabia is the nearest large settlement, but comes up with seventies disk arms and belly which, unfortunately, so often seen, Italian relations: Everything is falling halfway (or more or less intact), and then stinking mountains of garbage in the sun. is how I prefer it with the sea and enjoy the view as often as I can over to the cooling water of the sea promising.
blocked Soon after a huge The mountain straight path along the coast and so I accept it or not, me and my road bike a few switchbacks to boost up - no easy matter in an estimated 30 degrees in the shade - and shadow far and wide to see anything. So I go into a vertical position, turn on the small chainring and meet as evenly as I can off the pitch. It is a meter by meter higher, lasting in my calves and thighs confirmed the physical effort - reaching the top compensated gradioser a look at Termini Imerese to work: Under me spreads a small town and small port.
appears behind the mountain, the weather to change: the otherwise cloudless sky will be filled slowly from not so dangerous looking, but quite thick-filled clouds. The sun is still well to the course, but I suppose that will rain down later at home, the clouds - the humidity of the sea caught on the beach and handed over the island as a gift to the rich agriculture. A great system - and thus guarantee the so-legendary agricultural products of Sicily, which I hope to get some tonight at dinner on the plate.
Indes is Termini Imre's not a city, through which it would be worthwhile to report themselves. In the small harbor is a rusty Ferry, otherwise there are no old or historical, there are hardly any people on the move and charm emanating from this place barely. Even Goethe may have known this, because the bent of his time directly from Palermo and went off into the country only once in the mountains: not waving After all, far inland, the famous Corleone (The Godfather) and some well-known monasteries. But
meters.
No, I think, rather then the not so nice terms Imre, which I cross, but immediately behind me.
good cheer I come in - the weather, the streets - everything is perfect! Sicily, it seems to me, is the road bike's district of choice! The road here on the coast is brand new, not a single pothole, no wave, no, not one stone cloud the driving pleasure - EU funds put to good use. And the best part: A brand new highway runs high up on concrete stilts next to the highway its way - where things happen in traffic. On my street the other hand, there is dead Pants: It's as if I were alone on the island.
Herrlich!
When I roll down the mountain from the nearest town, I pass on most saddest horse farm, one can imagine: In a hole in the ground - it may be the excavation of a prefabricated unused - only sparsely covered with grass, there are some ramshackle huts, barely out of old wooden planks and rusty metal plates hammered together. lean horses graze there in that hole and I do not imagine how big the sad tears of disappointed children may be, which is hoping for a nice afternoon horse must go here.
And not imagine how the poor horses must go ... It certainly had their counterparts in Goethe's time better.
be better but also the circumstances of my bike trip, for behind the town I'm going on a piece now almost dead straight road - here as always of the highest quality. And also begins support of a sudden an ultra strong tail wind to crank my strongest work again: I lick blood and even though I know it is probably very stupid, I clean and compete to reach speeds beyond the permanent 45 km / h. Then I see before me the unmistakable silhouettes of racing bikes. I quickly shut up at them in wonder and accept the familiar jerseys of professional road racing sport.
There are two drivers of the racing team Lampre, flanking a colleague of Caisse d'Epargne. I do not need very long to catch up with them, for they ride comfortable 25 km / h. Quickly, I'm on her tail greet friendly. They turn around to see me and grin at me, heroes are not complicated, very pleasant!
I asked one: "Are you Pro?" . Yes, my friend "
he says, grinning at me from his tanned face." Training Camp for Tour de France
Oha think I am and somehow proud to take the three of them here.
I fall on my back, make the photo and resist only with difficulty, the three unknowns to ask for autographs.
Since I consider 25 km / h given the favorable conditions but fast to slow, I politely say goodbye, wish the guys a good trip and accelerating: I quickly re- my 45 km / h on the Garmin and remove me increasingly of the racers.
And that, I think me, you have also not every day: genuine Tour de France down like pros!
I indulge some time in thought to the guys and so I shorten my last mile to the stage destination: Cefalu. How wonderful, how perfect, how sensational this setting!
I must stop, must have a look at what generations of residents have set for an extraordinary city scenery in this beautiful bay. And I must testify that Cefalú of all coastal cities I have ever seen and I love: High above the town stands the Rocca - the rock. Among them, almost as if on an invisible bridge, extends a densely built-up, almost like a fairy tale-looking Arab Old City - a sight that captivated me for minutes.
I ask in a very chic-looking (and expensive) hotel, whether for, the Cervelo in rooms. Can not do it. Okay - then just not 150 € turnover for you. And my luck, because the hotel next door not only makes the racing bike with the room - it's still cheaper and to my spacious balcony in the cool shade of large courtyard full of banana trees atrium.
a dream.
So I shower once extensively rest me half an hour on my big bed and then brush on the balcony of my bike God bless the mini-bar, I think to myself, and am grateful for the many jars and bottles 0,2 l-full of ice-cold, refreshing Pepsi, juices and waters.
Then - there is still the hot outside, but strong wind - I decide to wash all my clothes again, because this hair dryer, they should be dry within 10 minutes. Quick are the things soaked and tumbled soon after they swing to the sun deck and drip the hot terrace floor full.
Only when fresh in my laundry to the Rei Tube and tea tree oil (against bacteria and mold) fragrant hanging in the sun I make to myself to explore the city. Insane is beautiful, the silhouette of Cefalù in the afternoon sun as I walk along the windswept surf take a walk and I can not get enough. There are few tourists there, so that the feeling of being here to experience a very intimate moment, have opened a small private wealth, only reinforced.
The narrow streets are too dark to take pictures, but I walk in them as familiar, just as I knew this city architecture or the evening reading from Arabian Nights to childhood - familiar yet strange, smelling of spices for fish and lake. Tanned man, honest, toothless grin and then I lose myself in two hours walking up that dream. I am looking to find a restaurant, whose name makes sounding appealing and I am hungry, I am led to the table, in turn, inspired again: A stroke of luck!
I have the window a table directly - and me, the discs reaching, branded the sparkling Mediterranean, just opposite to send to the sun, the middle of last power once again spread its warmth over Sicily, and then - always redder and redder, becoming - in the turquoise waters sink. annoying here no theatrical music. Anything but serene silence and the whispers of a variety of table neighbors would be in that place at that moment crime. The operators here are aware of their location - truly, this view is worth gold!
I order and get hand-made spaghetti alle Vongole - fresh caught on this day, as I confirmed to the host. This I drink a pint of wine, I rise at once to his head, but that is okay, because I can not get enough of this view, do not eat enough of this menu and am so glad, so happy to be here, that I send quite wild in front of romance to all sorts of SMS and MMS Friends and they liked here, with me at the table would have, because I feel as if I had found a paradise. 
Then she goes, the sun sets, it becomes darker and darker, I Lalle almost as if I am with a woman and her son to hold off the table - he is 16, she just 40, both beautiful people on a mother-son trip. Norwegians. Perfect English with typical attractive, Scandinavian accent. be amazed and surprised when they hear that I travel the road bike this country. That today I am not a 100 km run, and risked almost a silly mistake by a bonking, I prefer to conceal.
As I was half drunk on the beach to the hotel shake, I turn desöfteren order, sucking the city believes in me, light it off, can not find a photo appropriate to capture this perfect beauty, and texts to my sweet a text that I had found the location, I would like to take the one day make her a proposal. And truly - Cefalu, you are the beauty of this journey, you are the stage on which enchanted me has has compensated me for all the ugly holes, mounds of garbage, the stinking landfills that hip-deep potholes and the sad horse farms. You are turned to stone fairy tales - you must have seen you!
From the Mini-Bar, I hereby authorize me to say a drop of water for 2 €, before I the wings of my balcony doors wide open, pull the curtain on the moon and the hot night air in my room leave. Naked, sick, drunk and happy, I sink into the white wash, dawn and sleep off a dreamless, but totally perfect night ... Cefalú.
What does that translate?
fairy tale. Determined.
Stage 8 - Palermo-Cefalu
Stage length: 74.38 km
gross travel time: 3 h
journey net: 2 h 33 min
section: 28.1 km / h
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