At last we are on peaceful mountain roads. The sun is out and the landscape is wonderfully dramatic. We skirt a large low reservoir and pass through the little tourist village beside it before beginning to climb more. Following a small road we climb into a wide valley running north-south and gradually gain altitude. There are farmhouses converted into agri-turismo holiday lets and fields of cows and sheep, some woodland. We collect water in a village where we see only one local. And then the road brings us to a castle-like monastery and church complex. It is closed, with "danger - keep away" tape strung up around everything. More earthquake damage.
As we climb to a pass a collection of snow-capped peaks loom into view. They are breathtaking. We're crossing the Apennines, the mountain chain that runs like a spine through Italy, and these are the Sybilini mountains. At the pass is a refuge for shepherds and walkers. Rain clouds are drawing in so we take a peak. It's a dosshouse inside and judging by all the wine bottles someone actually might be sleeping here. So we instead stick on our waterproofs and get soaked as we descend a series of hairpins down into the valley below. Our map is a blur of squiggly lines that seem to criss-cross. It sort of makes sense as we descend past the first village. Some barking dogs and a couple of farmers using machinery, but otherwise the houses look empty. We round a corner to another village. Buildings are boarded up, pinned and buttressed as we have seen before. This whole village looks empty. Continuing downhill we finally arrive in a village with small shops and people. The main street is closed to traffic as buildings look about to collapse or are being demolished. There's a large estate of single-storey prefabhouses. This is where the locals are now living.
We camp just out of town and the next day continue down the gorge to the village of Visso. This is in a similar devastated condition. We had no idea there'd been an earthquake here. We stop at the prefab police station to ask for information about the road south. The carabinieri are friendly. ( "Manchester? Oh, I'm so sorry you lost last night. I watched the football on TV." I looked disappointed. "Barcelona were too good" I smiled broadly "Ah, you mean United lost! Ha! Ha!" ) They tell us the earthquake happened in 2017 but there were luckily no deaths. Meanwhile the locals are trying to rebuild their homes, their communities and their lives. Another local tells us that it may take five, eight, ten years. There is a brand new primary school but all the shops and cafes are in temporary structures. And the road we want to take south to Norcia is closed.
We check our map and revise our route. And head north. The main road takes us along the lower reaches of the same valley we came south along. There's a smaller accompanying road that takes us through more damaged villages. It's hard to describe the effect of seeing the destruction close up. Some of the villages are how I expect war-ravaged villages look. In Pieve Tonna there's a whole new village been built beside the old one. Once again there is a brand new primary school but the only work in the old village looks like demolition.
There's a beautiful valley leading us westwards with a manageable gradient leading to a pass. The sun is shining all day and we camp in one of the last empty fields before the woods take over.
The next day we cross the pass and descend to a motorway that shouldn't be there. At least, it's not on our map. But it doesn't interfere with our route along small farm roads that take us into the wide flat high valley of Colfiorito. We spot a peloton of cyclists but we would never catch up with them. Another climb takes us on even smaller roads avoiding a higher pass and bringing us into yet another high valley. But this time we are only descending. The road should spit us out of the mountains at Foligno, which we imagine to be an ugly modern industrial city of chemical plants and cement works. The descent is dramatic and leads into a narrow gorge where all roads merge to twist and wind downwards. We literally gasp when we emerge at a very high point above the plain with views into the hazy distance stretching to Perugia. Hairpin bends help bring us closer to the plain and once again we find a side road to escape the busy traffic.
It's Good Friday. Foligno turns out to be a beautiful old medieval city which, unusually for Italy, is flat and bike-friendly. There's a youth hostel in an old palazzo. We take a room for the Easter weekend. After these mountains we need a break.
As we climb to a pass a collection of snow-capped peaks loom into view. They are breathtaking. We're crossing the Apennines, the mountain chain that runs like a spine through Italy, and these are the Sybilini mountains. At the pass is a refuge for shepherds and walkers. Rain clouds are drawing in so we take a peak. It's a dosshouse inside and judging by all the wine bottles someone actually might be sleeping here. So we instead stick on our waterproofs and get soaked as we descend a series of hairpins down into the valley below. Our map is a blur of squiggly lines that seem to criss-cross. It sort of makes sense as we descend past the first village. Some barking dogs and a couple of farmers using machinery, but otherwise the houses look empty. We round a corner to another village. Buildings are boarded up, pinned and buttressed as we have seen before. This whole village looks empty. Continuing downhill we finally arrive in a village with small shops and people. The main street is closed to traffic as buildings look about to collapse or are being demolished. There's a large estate of single-storey prefabhouses. This is where the locals are now living.
We camp just out of town and the next day continue down the gorge to the village of Visso. This is in a similar devastated condition. We had no idea there'd been an earthquake here. We stop at the prefab police station to ask for information about the road south. The carabinieri are friendly. ( "Manchester? Oh, I'm so sorry you lost last night. I watched the football on TV." I looked disappointed. "Barcelona were too good" I smiled broadly "Ah, you mean United lost! Ha! Ha!" ) They tell us the earthquake happened in 2017 but there were luckily no deaths. Meanwhile the locals are trying to rebuild their homes, their communities and their lives. Another local tells us that it may take five, eight, ten years. There is a brand new primary school but all the shops and cafes are in temporary structures. And the road we want to take south to Norcia is closed.
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| closed off centre of Visso |
We check our map and revise our route. And head north. The main road takes us along the lower reaches of the same valley we came south along. There's a smaller accompanying road that takes us through more damaged villages. It's hard to describe the effect of seeing the destruction close up. Some of the villages are how I expect war-ravaged villages look. In Pieve Tonna there's a whole new village been built beside the old one. Once again there is a brand new primary school but the only work in the old village looks like demolition.
 |
| Pieve Tonna |
The next day we cross the pass and descend to a motorway that shouldn't be there. At least, it's not on our map. But it doesn't interfere with our route along small farm roads that take us into the wide flat high valley of Colfiorito. We spot a peloton of cyclists but we would never catch up with them. Another climb takes us on even smaller roads avoiding a higher pass and bringing us into yet another high valley. But this time we are only descending. The road should spit us out of the mountains at Foligno, which we imagine to be an ugly modern industrial city of chemical plants and cement works. The descent is dramatic and leads into a narrow gorge where all roads merge to twist and wind downwards. We literally gasp when we emerge at a very high point above the plain with views into the hazy distance stretching to Perugia. Hairpin bends help bring us closer to the plain and once again we find a side road to escape the busy traffic.
It's Good Friday. Foligno turns out to be a beautiful old medieval city which, unusually for Italy, is flat and bike-friendly. There's a youth hostel in an old palazzo. We take a room for the Easter weekend. After these mountains we need a break.
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| a typical cyclist's view from the bed |
