Like a couple of crows, we are not heading straight as an arrow. We are often to be found circling around the Italian terrain, like whirligigs. Destination south, but being taken north east. As a consequence, we can regularly be seen going nowhere fast – or should that be slow?
Day 14 came to its winding end at Camping Sabbia d’Oro. A beachside one night stop-over that was the site’s only saving grace. And ours. Beastie’s pitch, a thirty second walk onto it’s quiet and quite perfect place to forget about travel for an hour or two.
Day 15 finds us hugging the coastal road and on into the Parco Nazionale del Grande – a fat protuberance that sticks out like a sore thumb into the extreme blue of the Adriatic. Italy’s dewclaw, with Vieste at its tip, points towards Dubrovnik – a mere 111 miles away – as the crow flies . . .
