Walking the Via Francigena

Our last day in the open fields as tomorrow we cross the Rome GRA and walk through the Rome suburbs and finally to Vatican City. The scenery looks amazingly like the one we swept through in Pas-de-Calais in France at the beginning of the walk. Fields of tall wheat, the pungent smell of cow pastures and hog farms, gently rolling hills and puffy clouds in the distance. No amount of fatigue can obscure the lightness of such walking.

In Formello, about half way, we stopped for Tramezzini at a local Panetteria. The man making panini, a rugged, bald headed and tattooed man who looked remarkably like Il Duce, was so taken with us that he held up a whole line of customers and then loaded us up with chocolate. Honoraria, he called it.

Our Hotel is on the Via Cassia, a busy thoroughfare that at this point winds its way through some of the less desirable neighborhoods of Rome. Nonetheless we were able to find an Osteria that served delicious spaghetti vongole. Reinforcement for tomorrow’s entry into St Peter’s Square.

I am feeling very emotional as I consider our walk into St Peter’s Square tomorrow concluding this wonderful adventure.

When we began our walk there was no thesis or hypothesis; no demons to slay or angels to recruit, just an ambitious walk with Edward. As simple as that: 1,375 miles, 16 weeks, 4 countries, 3 major mountain ranges.

The three most frequently asked questions have been –

• did we fight – no
• did we lose weight – yes
• what will you do next – for now I will let this beauty of an accomplishment stand alone. Let it enjoy the special status of longest and most romantic vacation of our 41 years together. To turn it into a hobby or name a successor would trivialize the experience.

Way back in France a lovely farm host asked us how is it possible to have enough money for such a long journey? She marveled at our ability to embark on such an adventure. Then, and now, I am humbled by our good fortune. Grateful for all the gifts given and lessons learned. Gifts like the ladies in the church who gave us water, smiles and waves along the way; your enthusiasm, love and support. Then the other day Olivia said “I am so proud of what you and Dad are doing.” Say no more.

And there are the lessons learned: shouting NO to gravity does not work, so if you are sliding down a hill of mud, enjoy the ride. We did not always know where we were but we knew we were where we wanted to be. Stuff newspapers into wet boots, look for water in cemataries, in Italy a church bell tower means an a cafe/bar is nearby…

That is enough about us. For now I will continue to follow my beautiful Wildebeest and trot off with my calendar of 17 summers tucked under my Zebra arm.

A walk through the endless hazelnut orchards. Why so many hazelnut orchards, I asked my all knowing companion. Nutella, Paula replied, a one word response that explained the whole enterprise. And so it went on, row after row, field after field, hill after hill. I only thought of kids’ happy smiling faces smudged with brown Nutella. Having tasted Nutella once I was grateful others could gain pleasure from it.

We passed through Monterosi where we stopped at the church of the Santa Croce for our passport stamp. You would think we were the second coming. Three women who were busy cleaning the church led us to the sacristy in the back where they offered cold water, coffee and a large roll of paper towels, always welcomed by sweating pilgrims. Where are you from, where are you going, wow, too much. And then would you do it again? That caught me for a nanosecond. No, once is more than enough. They seemed genuinely concerned for the our well being. I am sure they would have given us lunch if we had asked.

We met up with our Australian fellow traveler in Campignano Romano. He now is accompanied by Alexa, a friend, who finished the Camino di Campostella last year. They were drinking a bottle of rose over dinner when we saw them last.

Tomorrow Isola Farnese by way of an uncertain route since the traditional route has been closed due to an outbreak of swine fever among the wild boar in the area. We will be discovering as we go along.

A very pleasant walk today through hazelnut orchards and along wooded paths criss-crossing a gurgling stream with some elevation gain at first and then gently undulating. We are struck by the random Roman ruins we pass, remnants of aqueducts and a fully preserved 2nd century amphitheatre cut out of tufa rock that in any other setting would be a national treasure attracting tourists from the four corners of the earth.

For several hours we walked with Eric, an Australian walking from Viterbo to Rome. We enjoyed his down under banter and his unabashed enthusiasm for American baseball, the Oakland As in particular, though he acknowledged wearing a Red Sox hat, his favorite. He’s a walker; he recounted tails of walking to Everest base camp and the Kakota Trail in Papua New Guinea, the hardest things he has done. We last saw him having an espresso in Capriana.

We are holding up very well. A 28 km walk would have nearly killed us at the outset. Now it’s just another Wednesday. The body can adjust to anything.

Before leaving Viterbo we walked through the older, “historical”, neighborhood, and glad we did. Much of it sits on top of large rectangular Etruscan boulders and houses 11th and 12th century structures as well as the House of Popes where several 13th century Popes lived and which somehow survived the allied bombing in 1944. The Cathedral of St Lawrence was not so lucky.

The road to Vetralla took us on a very strange road at the bottom of a tufa canyon with 30 to 50 ft high walls rising vertically on either side. But it was cool and we were thankful for that.

A fellow traveler, whom we call Pavia because that is where his journey to Rome started (he calls us Canterbury), related that another pilgrim, an American woman whom we had seen on occasion, had to halt her walk because her feet gave out. All sorts of images crossed our minds but we hope she recovers soon and can resume her walk.

Otherwise today was uneventful. Tomorrow. onto Sutri.

At Montefiascone we had dinner with dear friends Jacques and Betsy. Betsy had just finished a rehearsal in Acquasparta and Jacques shared many stories about his cycling the Via Francigena, including over the Alps and up to Radicofani which he agreed was a monster.

The walk today was along the old Via Cassia, dating to about 100 CE, paved with the limestone boulders Romans used to surface to the road. This is the road used for over 2000 years by by anyone coming from or traveling to the north from Rome. D.H. Lawrence mentions it in Etruscan Places. It is so rich in legend and lore every step on it smooth surface is a history lesson.

We left Montefiascone in early morning, getting our pilgrim passport stamped at the tourist office, which was open, where we were informed that Montefiascone marks 100 km from Rome. Walking 100 km just a short while ago would have seemed extreme, now it is just a 4 day journey. We march on.

Before we descended from Montefiascone, leaving Bolsena behind, we walked through its park where an older gentleman invited us to admire the huge porcini mushroom he found near an oak tree in the park. It was an amazing fungus. He then went on to describe how he would cook it in great detail.

Tomorrow onto Vetralla.

Relatively easy day walking the rim of Lago Bolsena through a mostly shaded national park well provisioned with water and park benches, the essentials in life. Other than the steep climb to the center of Montefiascone moderate inclines, undulating hills enlivened by panoramic views of Lago Bolsena sparkling below us.

This is a dramatically different landscape. A wide valley lies before us to Viterbo, none of the undulating landscape of Tuscany. Here the Etruscans centered their empire 3000 years ago.

Montefiascone has several mentions of Urban V, the first pope to return to Rome from Avignon. It turns out Queen Bridget of Sweden met Urban V at Montefiascone to convince him to recognize the order of Bridgetteens which survive to this day . They follow the Benedictine rule . We are indeed fortunate.

Note from the front: rumors that Paula is having troubles with her feet are alarmist . Evidence notwithstanding her feet are fine, and fully functional.

Beautiful walk to Lago Bolsena. As we crested the rim of the crater that holds the lake at San Lorenzo Nuovo we were struck by the beauty of this unspoiled gem. One of our friends describes it as the best kept secret in Italy. He may be right.

We stayed at a hotel on the lakefront, an unnecessary luxury since we spent only 8 hours in the room and never opened the curtains. It’s the thought that counts. For the first time on our entire journey we had dinner with friends, Ian and Lyndsay, and their friends Stephany and Mark. We gushed with excitement to answer their questions, monopolizing the conversation even more than our usual custom . Good seafood too.

Tomorrow onto Montefiascone

Another wonderful week which started with water elements, a raging river complete with a water fall. I was surprised by the method provided for crossing this river: so, there were 2 parallel ropes anchored in the river about 3 ft apart, submerged under the water was a line of stones. The idea is hold the rope and trust your footing. Off Edward goes as if dancing a Samba. My turn – why are these ropes so slack? *#&! A big inelegant wobble but a dry finish. The Camino always provides.

The week also included meanderings from the top of the world. There were some equally intense climbs and descents, they are not called “hill top towns” for nothing. At one point on a particularly steep climb I noticed a biker directly next to me, we shared the same thought bubble: “Why are you next to me? I am on foot and your are on a bike.” We exchanged grimaces, words were out of the question. To borrow a phase: the hill was the hammer we were the nails.

Walking up various narrow gulches we resemble drivers taking sobriety tests, one foot in front of the other, the space too narrow for a normal step. Our walking communication takes on a version of 3 stages. The day starts with a general discussion of events and observations. Then as the Kms add up, we turn to light banter, that’s when only one person gets the joke. Finally with elevation gains, stone silence. Cue the earpods, our walking aids. We listened to 3 books: Bloodlands, by Tim Snyder, The Wager by David Grann and My Father’s House by Joseph O’Connor, and various podcasts. But music works best for me. There isn’t a hill that Bill Withers can’t get me over, and when I need an encouraging playlist I turn to “Sad Songs of the 70’s” or “Bella Ciao.”

Our adventure required a total of 108 Hotels/B&B/ and other accommodations. The principle criteria for selection is proximity to the path. As you can imagine this allows for great variability. For the most part our accommodations have been perfectly adequate, a couple exceptional when we needed to indulge. Most hotels are 2 or 3 stars. Some have AC, sometimes it works, many have hair dryers and elevators. Some bathrooms are so space efficient that the shower stall allows you to shampoo and rinse your hair simultaneously and a well placed sink encourages the use of the toilet side saddle.

Our usual routine when arriving at our hotel is to put our clothes through a bidet wash cycle and then discreetly hang them to dry out the window or on the ledge. Trust me at 2 or 3 stars no one cares and our laundry is not alone. A problem occurs when at nicer hotels Edward insists on hanging clothes out the window and I have to coax him out of his preferred practice. It isn’t easy.

However at the end of the day, even before locating our destination for the night we find a bar, sit down slowly and order a beverage. We then exchange our congratulations, admiration, respect and sometimes mutual confusion. We recall the day briefly but immediately review the chart complete with kms, elevation gain, availability of water and food for the next day ahead. There is a kind of amnesia that settles over us, how else can you explain the nonchalance in our discussion of our day ahead of 32 kms.

Two stories from the field:

• while dining a woman can over to our table to inquire if we were walking the Via Francigena to which she offered words of support: “Coraggio!” It made a difference. *
• the other day we entered a charming town were outside an Enoteca a blackboard read: “Life is too short to drink bad wine.” This reminded me of our dear friend Rob who would recite the same mantra as he poured full bottles of “bad wine” down the drain with a smirk.

Our final week coming up. Rome July 1. Thank you for your encouragement and support. It makes a difference.