Category: Province of L’Aquila
Beside a turn in the zig-zag road to Rocca Calascio, some thoughtful person has organized the ideal picnic spot. Under a bower of ivy and spring flowers is a table and benches, just waiting to be used. Only we don’t have a picnic. Déjeuner sur L’herbe Never mind, in the borgo of Calascio we find a bar where the owner does a line in sardonic wit (free) and sandwiches (reasonably priced). We take our sandwiches out to a grassy promontory. Though the sun is shining, the breeze from the Gran Sasso carries a memory of snow. We are at 1400 metres above sea level and the world is at our...
Villalago is the sort of place where your destination always seems to be at the top of another flight of steps. It requires energy, and it doesn’t help that I’ve clearly approached the town from the wrong end. I find myself in a residential area where the modern houses have an inscrutable, do-not-disturb look on this summer Sunday afternoon. Still, even now, even here in this quiet town in the hills of Abruzzo, getting ambushed by decibels is not out of the question. Hurtling down the empty street is a vehicle, windows open, music blaring, passengers yelling. I glimpse the occupants as the car roars past: just some teenagers...
In the summer of 1934, a certain farmer named Michele was digging trenches in his fields when his plough hit something solid. More digging revealed a limestone sculpture, later ascertained to be from the sixth-fifth century BC. It is the oldest sculpted figure in Italy, the Guerriero di Capestrano. The warrior has been identified as Nevio Pompuledio. But more interesting to me is what the sculpture reveals about the craftsmanship of a people – the Piceni – who lived in an era almost too distant and too different to imagine, in a landscape which instead has perhaps altered little. Back to the present When we arrive in Capestrano on...
We weren’t intending to stop for refreshments but as soon as we arrive in Scanno we spot a tree-shaded terrace and tables spread with pretty cotton cloths. Irresistible. We take our seats. The cake Out comes the waitress to take our order. Seeing me dither, she suggests I try the local speciality, Pan dell’Orso. Bear bread. Given the name, I could be forgiven for expecting something more substantial than the small domed bun which, disappointingly, arrives wrapped in cellophane. The wrapper describes it as a light fluffy cake of almonds and honey covered in the finest chocolate. This is confirmed in a couple of bites. And then it’s gone. Transumanza I...
It happened on a winter’s night One dark and stormy night, so the legend goes, a traveller was on his way by donkey-drawn cart to Scanno. In the village of Villalago a family offered him hospitality and (I’m sure of it) a bowl of steaming pasta e fagioli. But in spite of the worsening weather he decided to press on. Who knows, perhaps he was driven by the image of his own cosy hearth and the pale, anxious faces of his wife and small children as they awaited his return. Or maybe he was just one of those stubborn individuals who never realize when they’re on a winning streak....
For me, one thing distinguishes Lago Barrea from all the other lakes in Abruzzo: it’s the only one I’ve actually swum in. I’m not a fan of bathing in lakes. I’m squeamish about muddy bottoms. Not to mention murky water and what might be lurking there. I blame it on growing up in a country of lochs where monsters are known to thrive. So it took a lot to get me into this lake. It took a hot, sweaty day on the road and a great longing to wash away a layer of travel dust. It took the inviting glossy perfection of the lake itself. And it helped that...
A peaceful green place Tinted by the algae under its shimmering surface and reflecting the foliage around its shores, it’s a study in green. No wonder it’s also known as the emerald lake. Officially, this lake is named after San Domenico, whom we’ve already met. He’s the Benedictine monk whose statue, draped in writhing snakes, is borne aloft in Cocullo every year in the May procession. The lake is named after him because he set up his hermitage here around the year 1000. At that time there would have just been the Sagittario River flowing through the gorge. The artificial lake was formed in the early twentieth century when...
As temperatures near the coast continue to soar we take to the hills. More precisely, we head for the Parco Nazionale di Abruzzo, Lazio and Molise and we have chosen Pescasseroli as our base. As we drive into town it’s as if we’ve changed countries. The air has a zing to it. The grass is a healthy green, in contrast to the sun-bleached variety we have left behind, and the trees nod in the breeze. Houses have sloping roofs and wooden window boxes from which tumble cascades of scarlet geraniums. Signs point us to the ski slopes. Pescasseroli is, in fact, best known as a winter resort. But...
For Nature Lovers Only There are positive signs that our proposed trek in La Camosciara nature reserve will be, as the guidebook suggests, a ‘passeggiata’. The word for walk is frequently used in a figurative sense to underline that something is easy, a mere walk in the park. As we drive into the immense carpark we spot numerous families with small children preparing for the endeavour. How hard can it be? The long unwinding road It is, though, quite a hot day and the first part of the walk in La Camosciara is through open, sunburnt countryside. The white dusty road stretches towards the Marsicani mountain range, a hazy...
A Quiet Place Cocullo is like a ghost town. There is no one about. As we climb the silent winding streets to the tower, we pass windows boarded up and wooden doors – no doubt beautiful in their time – still in place but gnarled by time and neglect. I half expect tumbleweed to come rolling down the streets towards us. There is life at the top, though not human life. A flock of swifts, black darts against the azure sky, are giving an aerobatics display. It is still early morning. We rest for a while beneath the twelfth century tower, admiring the still sturdy medieval stonework and enjoying...
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