Valleys and Fogs - May 16, 2010
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Not even the rainiest May in the last 30 years, much less a Saturday of uninterrupted rain for 24 hours, could stop the 17 crews who had booked the tour of the Po valleys on Sunday the 16th.
Rain above, water below and... water inside, since we're talking about MG, but the confidence in the weather forecast that promised a Sunday of good weather and the great desire for full immersion in a still primitive and unusual nature, rewarded the participants.
The meeting is in Ferrara and no one misses the roll call. Great!!!
The Simonettos, fresh from a wet May Flower's Run and of Italian-Dutch ethnicity, arrive from Padua even in an open car.
The warm welcoming hugs restore the right color to the cold cheeks of the fearless Gefske and then off along the road that will take us to the Delta park under a still very timid, but steadily growing, sun.
The route, skilfully designed by Piero Albrizio, almost immediately enters the valleys so named following a grandiose reclamation and hydraulic engineering project that channeled the waters into a myriad of canals, leaving room for a fertile cultivated plain.
This habitat is home to numerous species of aquatic and terrestrial birds that are easily visible even while driving.
A stop to admire a stork nest with the female brooding and the male on lookout right at the side of the road on an Enel pylon.
An unexpected surprise and a first experience for many of us.
The desire to delve deeper into the Delta Park is great.
After passing the towns of Comacchio and Mesola, we reach the town of Cannevie, our first destination.
We park our MGs and, before continuing the visit, this time on foot, we stop for a rich breakfast/aperitif set out outdoors.
The scent of pizzas and pastries mixes with the damp, mossy grass, and our voices echo the sounds coming from the valleys.
We treat ourselves to a walk along a path marked out between ponds, rustic wooden bridges and reed huts with slits for birdwatching.
Unfortunately, the adverse weather conditions of the previous days forced the birds to seek hidden shelters, depriving us of the pleasure of sightings.
I get back in the car and set off again along the deserted roads of the Delta to reach the town of Goro, also known as the birthplace of a famous singer nicknamed the Panther of Goro.
There was no sign of a panther, but a huge hawk that swooped down from the sky like a rocket to plant its talons on an unfortunate little reptile two meters from my MG, took my breath away, needed to compose a few commemorative musical notes.
A lovely fish-based lunch was a worthy corollary, much appreciated by all.
For those who didn't need to head home, Piero offered an extra tour along the last banks where the great river meets the sea and a solitary and somewhat gloomy lighthouse rises high in the sky.
The landscape of these places has a mysterious charm, revealing a still wild and silent nature whose solitude is interrupted only by a few scattered houses whose damp bricks seem to tell stories of people who lived in such poverty that not even the great fogs could hide.
P. Paolo