Although it's a lovely location it ain't quiet. The digger on the adjacent site starts work at 06:30 masking the sounds of the factory presses behind which run 24/7.

Ali gets bread from the baker's van which calls each morning, we service the van and say goodbye to Toni and Giorgio. Toni is still telling us places to go and things to see as we drive through the gate. What a star he is.

It's a short drive to Scicli [pronounced Skiggly] and we park on the outskirts of town for Ali to visit a vegetable stall. The stallholder even carries the bags across the road to the van. There are tomatoes picked this morning, smelling like Granddad's greenhouse, broad beans, oranges and Sicily's special lemon-but-not-lemon fruit whose name we need to find out. Plus two litres of home made wine for €3 and a cooking tip to add a pinch of chilli to an orange salad.

Continuing into town, it's busy and narrow with no spaces to park. We'd hoped to see the town hall used as Montalbano's police station and we glimpse a possible building but cannot be sure as there's nowhere to stop even briefly.

There's a steep climb out of town where the countryside becomes drier with white drystone walling and pale moorland grass. We take a wrong turn on a roundabout, partly not being familiar with the Garmin style of directions, but it's all attractive and we get back on the right route without too much delay and find the last of our Montalbano landmarks at Sampieri. Down a sandy track between drystone walls is the ruins of a factory building destroyed by the Mafia in the 1930s. It is built of the same white sandstone with a brick chimney. Now there is no roof and cactus plans sprout through the doors and windows. Beyond is a beach and rocky shorline and all around are little dwellings and smallholdings like the ones often visited by 'the inspector'. Know as Mannara in the stories it's the setting for many dastardly deeds.

We drive into Sampieri town and have lunch near the beach, complete with juice freshly squeezed from some of the oranges.

From there we drive mostly along the coast to Porto Palo di Capo Passero. The road is right alongside miles of beaches, protected by regular stone groins. Pleasant homes line the opposite side of the road, each with a zebra crossing to the beachside wheely bins.

The last bit turns inland past lakes and irrigation channels until we drive through the town to the harbour at Porto Palo.

There is a modern wharf where we park, and the basin is filled with a variety of craft, mostly small fishing boats. Among the moorings​ are a few wrecks, one quite large wooden hull that has been rotting for years. At one end the shoreline is piled with discarded boats almost as if they​ were swept up by a tidal wave,

A German van pulls in beside us and the woman asks if it's OK to stay here. Ali shows her the Camperstop book entry and she is happy. Later three more vans park along the quay.

We have the lemon-but-not-lemon in our G&Ts. They are bigger and have knobbled​ and gnarly skin. Inside there is lemon fruit and a very thick pith. The pith is amazing to eat; it has a velvety texture like the inside of a broad bean pod and tastes of pure lemon without any bitterness. The nearest to say is it's like a lemon marshmallow.

Behind us is a pizzaria, convenient for dinner after a lovely sunset.

There is also free wifi allowing us to upload more photos to the blog.