We are in the Po valley, the pasta and rice basket of Italy, walking beside green rice paddies and durum wheat fields. The Via Francigena in Italy has a completely different vibe than the one we walked in France. The signage is fantastic, the paths well maintained complete with rest areas for pilgrims every couple of kilometers, and lots of cafes in the small villages along the way. It feels like we were invited to come for a walk and, having accepted, we are welcome guests. And of course, the food is delicious.
Before leaving Viverone, we had a talk with Lorenzo, the hotel proprietor, who was very concerned about impending Armageddon if congress does not raise the debt ceiling. He seemed even more concerned about the prospect of Trump getting elected. I don’t like to signal political positions when abroad, unless with people we know well enough, so I assured him the sun will continue rising regardless of what happens in the US. He was skeptical, a reminder that Europeans by in large follow US politics closely often with a terrified fascination. He also asked why the US hasn’t had a female President, but I think that was more of a dig as Italy has la Meloni. Tomorrow Vercelli.
Viverone lies on the homonymous lake left over from the last ice age, tucked at the edges of the Val D’Aosta between the soaring snow-covered peaks of the Alps and the flat of the Po valley. We are deposited here by car after a non-eventful flight from Washington to Milan. While sorting through our hiking kits and inspired by whatever madness possesses hikers, we decide to walk the 16.9 km circumference of the lake. Good training for what is to come. Our reward came when we sat at a white tablecloth restaurant right on the lake for a very non-pilgrim like meal. Good lord the food is just so good! Off to Santhia tomorrow.
We reached the end of Phase 1 of our walk, from Canterbury across France, over the Alps and into the Po valley in Italy. Phase 2 will start September 26 from Viverone to Rome where we will walk into St Peter’s Square on November 6. Phase 1 exceeded our wildest expectations, perhaps because we did not know what to expect. The simple fact is that when we set off from Canterbury, we did not know what we had signed up for. Some say ignorance is bliss, in this case ignorance helped us survive. We just yodyyoed our way surprised by every turn without being discouraged, while feeling energized by every obstacle we overcame. As Bob Dylan would say: “When you ain’t got nothing, you got nothing to lose.” If we had been looking for a significant revelation when we started this walk, we would have been disappointed. Instead, over the past 2 months of walking, we realized that life is fulfilling even when just putting one foot ahead of the other, one before and one that follows, but never alone. We only need each other.
Walking in 90-degree heat is crushing, especially when, as we have over the past 2 days, the path meanders up and down mountain ridges in the Val D’Aosta. 1500 ft up, 1500 ft down, 2000 ft up and back down again. Drenched in sweat we seek the shade of a lonely tree to cool down, even for only a minute or two, gulp water and set off again. The weather is unusual for this area, so the hotels are not equipped with AC or fans. But we remain in high spirits for some reason.
Back in Bourg St Pierre and then across the GSB pass and through to Etroubles we spent some time with Duncan, an Australian walker. He woke up early the day after reaching the pass to climb another 3000 ft to the summit of one of the nearby mountains and was down in time for breakfast. He is a retired engineer and now a motivational coach. “What do you motivate people to do?” I asked. “To change” he said, “Marginal improvement, small increments, make change habitual. Meet one new person every day. Power nap. Daily walks. Eat something different.” He had me at power naps. He was off to Paris to catch the Tour de France. We are off to search for air conditioning.
The path is kind, gently sloping down the Val D’Aosta through mostly pine forests with cool waters gurgling on the side but the heat sets in with an iron grip by 1 pm when we welcome the outskirts of Aosta to search for our hotel and a good lunch. We find both. Aosta is a charming little town alive with residents and vacationers strolling along its mediaeval streets or people watching, sitting at its many bars and cafes while sipping Aperol Spritzers. The ”passeggiata” (evening stroll) rules after 6 pm. Aosta also boasts some remarkable Roman ruins that would be world renown in any other country, including the well-preserved 1st Century Arch of Augustus at its entrance. The Cathedral, mangled by successive rulers of the Val D’Aosta eager to imprint their grandiosity for eternity, sits on a magical 4th century crypt that reminded me of the Canterbury Cathedral crypt, though the latter was built 700 years later. Our 2 night rest was restorative, especially on the heels of our emotional crossing of the GSB pass.
Edward’s cousin Ernesto when informed of our plan to walk the Via Francigena shared “Yes, I am sure you can walk 25 km in a day, but can you do it every day for months.” That is the question I’ve asked every morning and answered every evening for the past 60 days.
When I look at my hands, which are brown as beans, I can see a hint of the clear nail polish I wore to Olivia and Andrew’s wedding. The sequined beginning of this tour. The perfect memory upon which to stack this journey. Lausanne, only 10 days ago, is a distant memory – the beautiful lake, vineyards, and endless watch advertisement where the face of the timepiece is always set at 10 past 10. Most recently there is a blur of challenging days of endless climbing. Why is it necessary to climb 2000 ft then descend 1000 ft only to climb 3000 ft again? All the while I am desperate for handholds, anything, roots, rocks, Edward’s cascading silver locks are often tempting. I am doubting that Chubby Sigeric, or his horse, made any of these steep climbs. For the most grueling challenges I call upon a mental playlist of songs. Musicals work great: Caberet (“Maybe this Time”), Funny Girl (“Don’t Rain on My Parade”), Evita (“Don’t Cry for Me Argentina”) or such inspirational songs as “Break my Stride”, “Together for Ever”, “My Funky Cold Medina”, or, inexplicably, “Brandy”.
But what has carried me to the top has been conjuring the scene from American Beauty when Annette Benning is maniacally scrubbing the kitchen of the house while repeating the mantra “I will sell this house today!”
Before embarking on this project, we watched several documentaries by pilgrims. None showed the scary bits of the climb and steep descents, just walking in bucolic surroundings and lovely paths through cow pastures. Here is the lesson: if I had seen the full extent of the trails, I would not have done it because I would have concluded that I could not do it. There is a pithy cliché here ready to be embroidered on a couch pillow.
I’ve been steadily shedding all vanity, starting back in Dover when we pushed our seatless bikes among a sea of 18-wheeled tractor trailers onto the ferry bound for Calais. However, and it is a good thing, I made a couple of key appointments before leaving DC – my hairdresser and my GP. Michael, my hairdresser, has quite a project ahead, think the scene when Moses comes down from Mt Sinai. When I go for my annual check-up and my officious, zero body-fat Doctor asks, in “that tone”, if I am watching my diet, controlling my alcohol consumption and exercising regularly, I am going to rip the paper sheet off the examining table, put it on as a cape, hop on a chair and shout “I walked from Canterbury over the Alps into Italy – BITCH!” I probably won’t do that.
Neither Edward nor I have experience or desire to share our lives on social media. So this daily blog has been a new venture for us, and I promise once in Rome we will go silent, but, in the meantime, thank you so much for your support and love on this journey.
One of the most beautiful walks of the whole trip, down mostly gently sloping, pine covered trails through the Val D’Aosta. We left the pass early in the morning after saying goodbye to Rolf and Regula who climbed up from Martigny for their vacation. They are part of the global community of hikers we encountered on the Via, eager to share all sorts of helpful tips about hiking (use polls), eating (not before 10 am), GPS (MapOut-which is fantastic and we started using right away-AppStore $4.99). We also engaged in a wide ranging political discussion about the hot issues in Swiss politics that sounded eerily familiar: pension deficits, Ukraine, climate change, wokeness. A quarter of a km into Italy, on an almost vertical incline, we found a café/bar on the side of the trail where we enjoyed our first good cappuccino in 2 months. Fountains, benches, restaurants and cafes are widely available along the trail which is well marked and maintained. Good to be in Italy!
We made it! 57 days from Canterbury to the Great St Bernard Pass, halfway to Rome. The Great St Bernard Hospice and Hotel, where we are staying, has been providing hospitality for 1100 years, open all year around even when there are 30 meters of snow on the ground. We are elated.
We now know what a “moderate but steady” climb means: relentless. We walk uphill until we finally reach a crest just to find more uphill and another crest. 5 hours of it, including water breaks, every half hour, lunch and time to take pictures, all under a cloudless sky. The scenery is breathtaking. We climbed to 6000 ft then back down to 5300ft. We are staying at one of just a couple of hotels in Bourg St Pierre. Everyone is wearing hiking outfits, even the couple in the Mazerati SUV; we met only one young couple on the trail, and they looked like day hikers, so we are puzzled about where everyone is hiking. Tomorrow, we climb to the Great St Bernard Pass.
In St Maurice we had our first good Italian meal in 2 monts at Nonna’s of St Maurice in the town square. So much to see in so little time. An interesting museum sponsored by the Leonard Gianadda Foundation which currently is showing a Henri Cartier Bresson exhibition doesn’t even get a mention in google tourist attractions. But we are walking not touring so we march on forward.
The Alps are beautiful. One stunning panorama after the other. Our first 3000 ft climb was more routine than we expected. We had to take the San Bernard Express train for a 4 km stretch that had been wiped out by recent storms, so it was closed, but the ascent through pine forests and open fields of wildflowers was “the hills are alive” material that included a walk across the Dranse River gorge on a “swinging” bridge.
Orsieres is a hiking and skiing town which we will leave early tomorrow to climb to Bourg St Pierre before a predicted thunderstorm.
Walking the Via Francigena 