Bova And Condofuri Are Now The
Head-Quarters Of Mediaeval Greek In These Parts.
From afar we had already descried a green range of hills that shut out
the seaward view.
This we now began to climb, in wearisome ascension; it
is called Pie d'lmpisa, because "your feet are all the time on a steep
incline." Telegraph wires here accompany the track, a survival of the
war between the Italian Government and Musolino. On the summit lies a
lonely Alp, Campo di Bova, where a herd of cattle were pasturing under
the care of a golden-haired youth who lay supine on the grass, gazing at
the clouds as they drifted in stately procession across the firmament.
Save for a dusky charcoal-burner crouching in a cave, this boy was the
only living person we encountered on our march - so deserted are these
mountain tracks.
At Campo di Bova a path branches off to Staiti; the sea is visible once
more, and there are fine glimpses, on the left, towards Staiti (or is it
Ferruzzano?) and, down the right, into the destructive and dangerous
torrent of Amendolea. Far beyond it, rises the mountain peak of
Pentedattilo, a most singular landmark which looks exactly like a molar
tooth turned upside down, with fangs in air. The road passes through a
gateway in the rock whence, suddenly, a full view is disclosed of Bova
on its hill-top, the houses nestling among huge blocks of stone that
make one think of some cyclopean citadel of past ages.
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