Descent down the Po River - Day 6

The extreme limit of the mainland is marked by the "scanni," uncertain sandbars frequented only by seabirds

A few kilometers and the Adriatic welcomes us with the excitement of a salty breeze. The landscape gradually opens up, from the hustle and bustle of red herons on the reeds to the tidal tongues of sand: here they call them " scanni " and they teem with seabirds that rise as we pass: terns, little terns, oystercatchers... if you know how to distinguish them by their profile and flight. We push on to the Sacca di Goro, a deep inlet cultivated with clams, just so because juveniles are sown in fields charted by satellite. Clams are the delta's gold, and there are also those who make good money by poaching them. Here, in fact, is a sheriff's motorboat "clam watcher" pulling in.

For a while the ritual ship seems to have no intention of putting out to sea, which disturbs us in no small part

Suggestive environment: relentless sun, gulls and cormorants on the long rows of poles; oystercatchers raking by sinking their beaks into the sand. Along the edges of the pocket we glimpse boats at anchor and a line-up of fully equipped huts, veranda, barbecue and dish: these are the "beachcombers," as the people of these squatter vacationers are called.

Called to duty, we return to the mouth of the river and take land at the Bacucco Lighthouse: they call it Love Island and there is no need for much explanation, magical place. Let the ceremony begin: goodbye Manrichetta, goodbye three men in a boat, bon voyage and may the sea be mild to you!