Portonovo, Riviera del Conero, Italy
Zagan the motorhome is in another world. Nope, we’ve not brought our ferry to Croatia forwards, we’ve just roamed south of Ancona and are in the shadow of Monte Conero, a couple of hundred meters from the Adriatic and a couple of pretty beaches. We’re at Portonovo, and motorhomes are allowed to stay here in for €9 a day from 14 March (N43.56260, E13.59477). Only no-one’s been to re-install the ticket machines after winter, so it’s still free, woo hoo!
The sosta up at Fano filled up as the evening went on, even after we’d headed for bed motorhomes rolled in and shuffled about aligning themselves in the car-sized spaces. When we awoke, some of them had left already despite us (well, Ju) being up early for once. My guess is Fano’s a great freebie stopover on the way down to Ancona, and folks were bouncing in and out on their way out to Croatia, Greece or Turkey.
As the above photos attest, the sun gods smiled down on our beaming faces today. After a short walk into Fano, through a gap in its thick age-old Roman walls, breached by the Goths 1500 years ago before being rebuilt, our dog’s nose took him out to the sea. That dog’s a stick-chasin’ fool. Arthritis again forgotten for a few minutes, he stood fast in front of imminent Adriatic stick-stealing danger. Nipping in and out of the waves to grab bits of washed-up wood from somewhere exotic, we had to stop the game as we know he’d suffer otherwise.
Fano’s a port, as well as a resort, and an active one at that. Tied up with arm-thick rope, rusting fishing boats rubbed against one edge of the port walls while sleek mega-yachts were being washed down by deckhands floated with poise lined up against another.
In one spot some fine fellows appeared most of the way through an Airfix kit, fashioning their own Millionaire’s Cruiser, just awaiting the slide-on bedsheet-sized decals to make her seaworthy.
Leaving Fano, we eased between 50 and 70kph as the road slipped south, staying close to the sea as the hills to our right closed in on flat land. The urban landscapes we passed through weren’t inviting, a steady stream of concrete villas, railway, motorway and pre-fab buildings. Only Lidl tempted us in, as her siren call of “98c a litre lager, Jay, Jay, less than a euro, come and get it, it’s soooo tasty” rang in my ears. €102 later, and Zagan’s cupboards are stuffed with ale and wine like we’re heading for a dry country. We bought some food too, €17 worth of it – only kidding!
Ancona appeared on a promontory, a jumble of white and brick red to our left. The route here took us to the west of it (which is good, as if we’d gone east we’d be swimming), finally dropping off the main road and down a breath-in-engage-second-gear route to here. Which felt a tiny bit like one of my favourite of all places ever, here in Greece.
The sun’s gone. As has half a bottle of that Lidl lager. We have until Monday to make it back to Ancona for the ferry. If they don’t come and fit those ticket machines, we may well end up staying here for our final days in Italy on this tour; we certainly have enough wine to keep us fortified!
Cheers, Jay
P.S. thanks for the entries to our win a satnav app competition, they’re keeping us entertained! Keep ’em coming.
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