Italy Bound – Goodbye Mountains, Hello Coastline
Day 24 to Day 26 – From Aspromonte to the Ionian Coast
08.06.26 – 10.06.26
Every motorcycle trip reaches a point where reality wins.
Not because the adventure is over.
Not because the roads stop being fun.
But because your patience eventually runs out.
For me, that moment arrived somewhere in Calabria.
Not because I stopped loving the mountains.
Far from it.
The mountains had delivered some of the best riding of the entire trip.
The problem was that every morning felt like playing a lottery.
Would the road be fantastic?
Would it be full of potholes?
Would it be closed?
Would Google Maps decide a goat trail was a perfectly acceptable route for a fully loaded BMW RT?
Nobody knew.
And after several weeks of gambling with Italian mountain roads, I finally decided to change strategy.
Less mountains.
More coast.
At least for a while.
A decision that would bring new discoveries, different scenery and, unexpectedly, a renewed appreciation for sixth gear.
Day 24 – Gambarie
08.06.26
The original plan for today was simple.
Ride down to the coast.
Have a look.
Return.
Done.
Yesterday I had stopped early in Gambarie instead of continuing all the way down to the sea.
Partly because I was tired.
Partly because the roads had beaten me up all day.
And partly because Gambarie was simply a pleasant place to stay.
So after breakfast I fired up the old RT at around 08:45 and headed off.
The first twenty kilometres were the same road I had ridden the day before.
And surprisingly…
It was brilliant.
Again.
Cool mountain air.
Smooth tarmac.
Flowing curves.
No surprises.
Honestly, I feel the need to mention good roads every time I find them now.
Because down here they’re becoming a rare and precious resource.
Like reliable internet.
Or savoury Italian breakfasts.
Ancient Olive Trees and Mediterranean Views
At Delianuova I turned left towards the coast.
The scenery changed almost immediately.
The road passed through olive groves unlike anything I had seen before.
Not young plantations.
Not neat rows of identical trees.
These were ancient giants.
Massive twisted trunks.
Trees that looked like they had witnessed several centuries of history.
Some probably had.
Calabria is one of Italy’s largest olive oil producing regions, and many of these groves have been cultivated for generations.
Some of the trees are believed to be hundreds of years old.
Standing beside them makes you feel slightly insignificant.
The road wound through the hills with occasional views opening towards the sea.
Blue water in the distance.
Rolling hills.
Scattered villages.
Classic southern Italy.
The kind of scenery that makes you slow down slightly just to enjoy it properly.
Scilla – Calabria’s Mini Amalfi
Eventually the road joined the SS18 and brought me to the coastal town of Scilla.
Now Scilla deserves a mention.
Because unlike many tourist destinations, it actually has some genuine character.
The town takes its name from the mythical sea monster Scylla, famous from Homer’s Odyssey.
According to legend, Scylla lived in the waters of the Strait of Messina, terrifying sailors attempting to pass between Italy and Sicily.
Today things are slightly less dangerous.
Unless you’re trying to find parking.
Scilla sits dramatically on the coastline.
Crystal-clear blue water.
Rocky cliffs.
A beautiful old fishing district.
And above it all towers the impressive Castello Ruffo di Scilla.
The fortress has guarded the coastline for centuries and offers spectacular views across the Strait of Messina towards Sicily.
On a clear day you can easily see the island.
Which feels slightly surreal.
After all these weeks of riding south, Sicily suddenly looked close enough to touch.
Tourist Season Has Arrived
Unfortunately Scilla also confirmed another universal truth.
Every beautiful place attracts tourists.
Lots of them.
The small beach was already packed with sun-seekers determined to begin their annual campaign against healthy skin.
Rows of umbrellas.
Beach towels.
Children running everywhere.
And the occasional tourist wandering into traffic without checking if anything larger than a bicycle might be approaching.
At one point I nearly collected a couple who stepped directly into the road while admiring the scenery.
Apparently looking left and right has become optional in some countries.
Compared to my peaceful mountain retreat in Gambarie, this felt overwhelming.
Too many people.
Too much noise.
Too much heat.
Too much everything.
Mountains Win Again
The funny thing is that Scilla and Gambarie are only thirty kilometres apart.
Thirty kilometres.
Yet they might as well exist on different planets.
One offers beaches, tourists, restaurants and heat.
The other offers forests, cool air, silence and empty roads.
Guess which one I prefer.
If you’ve read the previous chapters, you already know the answer.
Ten times out of ten I choose the mountains.
Actually eleven if possible.
After a short exploration of Scilla I pointed the bike back uphill and returned to Gambarie.
The temperature dropped.
Traffic disappeared.
My mood improved instantly.
Amazing how that works.
A New Strategy
Back at the hotel around lunchtime I enjoyed another excellent panino.
Honestly Gambarie deserves some credit.
The food was consistently good.
And after several weeks on the road, consistency becomes valuable.
The afternoon was spent planning.
Studying maps.
Comparing routes.
And eventually making a decision.
The mountains had been wonderful.
But I was tired of the uncertainty.
Good road.
Bad road.
Closed road.
Gravel road.
Landslide.
Repeat.
Time for something different.
The new plan:
Follow the coast.
Use the coastal roads for progress.
Retreat into the mountains when it’s time to sleep and recover.
Exactly the same strategy that worked brilliantly during previous rides through Corsica.
Simple.
Efficient.
Let’s see if it works here too.
The loop itself had only been around 100 kilometres.
But I can highly recommend it.
Good roads.
Great scenery.
Interesting places.
And a nice balance between mountains and coastline.
Day 25 – Gambarie to Copanello
09.06.26
Before leaving Gambarie I should mention the hotel.
Because finding good accommodation is half the battle on a long motorcycle trip.
The Hotel Centrale had been excellent.
Quiet.
Friendly.
Comfortable.
And most importantly:
Breakfast.
Not just the standard Italian sugar buffet.
Actual ham.
Cheese.
Eggs.
Real food.
Honestly, after three weeks of croissants pretending to be nutrition, this felt almost luxurious.
Gambarie itself is also worth considering for anyone who likes quiet mountain locations.
Several cafés.
A few restaurants.
Ice cream.
Coffee.
No crowds.
Perfect.
The Wrong Assumption
The day began with a mistake.
Not a huge mistake.
Just one based on optimism.
Now the western road into Gambarie had been excellent.
Fresh tarmac.
Smooth curves.
Well maintained.
Naturally I assumed the eastern road would be similar.
Seems reasonable, right?
Wrong.
Completely wrong.
The eastern route appeared untouched since roughly the invention of television.
Potholes.
Broken asphalt.
Sand in corners.
Random patches of gravel.
The usual southern Italian surprise package.
Fifty-five kilometres took almost two hours.
At times I wasn’t riding.
I was negotiating.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Diplomatically.
Still.
Better slow than crashed.
Rediscovering Sixth Gear
Eventually I reached the coast and joined the SS106.
Now this road represents the exact opposite of mountain riding.
No endless curves.
No hairpins.
No constant gear changes.
Just long stretches of relatively straight road.
Traffic.
Movement.
Progress.
And suddenly something remarkable happened.
I found sixth gear.
It still existed.
After three weeks of mountain roads I had almost forgotten.
The gearbox seemed equally surprised.
“Oh… so we’re using this one again?”
Honestly it felt slightly strange riding in a straight line for extended periods.
Like learning a new skill.
The Southernmost Point That Wasn’t
Part of the plan included visiting the southernmost point of mainland Italy.
A classic motorcycle travel objective.
The sort of thing that sounds impressive in blogs.
Unfortunately reality intervened.
The lighthouse area turned out to be military property.
Closed.
Restricted.
Access denied.
No problem.
The map showed another route.
That alternative turned out to be a swamp.
Not metaphorically.
Literally.
At this point I accepted defeat.
Some destinations simply don’t want visitors.
Expensive and Terrible
Lunch wasn’t much better.
Frozen pasta.
Overpriced.
Disappointing.
Honestly one of the worst meals of the trip.
A rare occurrence in Italy.
Usually even average food is still pretty good.
This one felt like somebody had microwaved sadness.
Fortunately the scenery compensated.
And eventually I found a lovely little hotel on a hillside overlooking the coast.
Beautiful views.
Comfortable room.
Pleasant atmosphere.
I immediately considered staying two nights.
Then reality intervened again.
The road below was surprisingly busy.
And surprisingly loud.
One night would be enough.
Total distance:
205 kilometres.
Relaxed.
Easy.
No rush.
And after that terrible lunch, finding decent dinner became the priority mission.
Day 26 – Copanello to Oriolo
10.06.26
The night was awful.
Not slightly annoying.
Not mildly inconvenient.
Awful.
The road noise continued for hours.
Modified motorcycles screamed through the night.
Cars accelerated enthusiastically.
And at four in the morning the neighbour stepped onto his balcony and started smoking.
Naturally directly below my window.
Perfect.
Exactly what every tired motorcyclist dreams about.
By morning I felt approximately as refreshed as a wet sponge.
Breakfast Déjà Vu
Breakfast arrived.
And if you’ve followed this trip, you can probably guess the menu without assistance.
Croissant.
Cappuccino.
Tea.
Done.
Somewhere an Italian grandmother is probably horrified by my constant complaints about breakfast.
But after several weeks it becomes difficult not to notice.
Anyway.
At 08:50 I was rolling again.
Life on the SS106
Today’s ride followed the SS106 for long stretches.
The famous Ionian coastal road of Calabria.
Sometimes directly beside the sea.
Sometimes slightly inland.
Sometimes pretending to be scenic.
The problem?
It was boring.
Now that’s not entirely fair.
The road serves an important purpose.
It connects towns.
Moves traffic.
Gets people where they need to go.
As a transport route it works.
As a motorcycle road?
Not so much.
Most of the exciting corners had been replaced by roundabouts.
The challenge wasn’t riding.
The challenge was surviving traffic.
A Different Kind of Riding
Mountain riding requires one set of skills.
Reading corners.
Avoiding gravel.
Watching road surfaces.
Coastal riding requires another.
Overtaking trucks.
Watching for Fiats that suddenly turn left.
Filtering through traffic.
Navigating roadworks.
Avoiding people who use indicators only as decorative equipment.
Different challenges.
Same concentration.
At least the roads were mostly predictable.
Mostly.
One Last Surprise
Of course Italy couldn’t resist one final surprise.
The navigation eventually directed me onto a tiny C-road while approaching Oriolo.
And immediately things became interesting again.
Poor surface.
Narrow lanes.
Questionable maintenance.
The usual adventure.
Apparently even when trying to avoid mountain-road gambling, the gambling follows you.
Reward at the End
After 260 kilometres I finally reached Oriolo.
Tired.
Hungry.
Ready to stop.
Fortunately the reward was excellent.
Pizza.
Red wine.
Dessert.
A proper end to the day.
And honestly?
Well deserved.
The plan is to stay one night.
Then continue south again.
Although “south” is becoming a slightly strange concept now.
The journey is slowly approaching its turning point.
The mountains are beginning to fade behind me.
The coast is taking over.
And more adventures waiting ahead.
One thing I’ve learned though.
No matter what the maps suggest, no matter what locals recommend, no matter how carefully you plan:
Italy always has its own ideas.
Sometimes that means finding paradise roads.
Sometimes it means frozen pasta.
And sometimes it means discovering that your motorcycle still has a sixth gear after all.
#dustysocks
