Eva on the Via Francigena (and beyond)

Song of the Day: America — Simon & Garfunkel

“And the moon rose over an open field…Cathy, I said, I’m lost / though I knew she was sleeping / I’m empty and aching and I don’t know why”

I was between this and “The Only Living Boy In New York” for my song today, but I really love this one. I think it captures well some of the lovelier moments from the day: the orange sun peeking above the horizon, rice plants waving in the wind, herons taking flight.

Today was the first day of the (in)famous rice fields, a section of the path that many pilgrims skip, calling it boring, and others compare to the Camino de Santiago’s Maseta. It’s miles of flat, with rice fields as far as the eye can see in every direction. But even with this reputation I was sort of excited to see how this section would be in the end.

I was up and out the door shortly after 7, dropping the hostel keys in the mailbox and heading out of town. The most elevation I gained today was by climbing the two-story pedestrian bridge to cross the railroad tracks, from which I had a fantastic view of the sunrise. The sun glowed brilliantly orange and just barely peered above the horizon, making all the fields seem to emanate orange light. Behind me were the mountains, with (I think) Monte Rosa towering above, coated still in snow. Before me was flat, flat, flat — rice fields, a few trees, and occasional houses. The air was chilly and clear.

The route out of town required scampering across the main highway headed to Vercelli, with a lane of high-speed traffic in either direction. After letting a few cars and trucks fly by, I found a gap in traffic and jogged (to the extent possible with the pack). Quickly though I turned away from the highway and into the rice fields. The first few miles I was unimpressed — most of the fields were not used for anything, their irrigation canals dried up. But soon enough I began to pass through golden-greenish fields that waved in the light breeze. With the sun still rising and the sky now a perfect, cloudless blue, they were absolutely beautiful.

Soon I made my way into San Germano Vercellese, the only town on the route to Vercelli. The town was quiet, with only a few older men cycling through the stone-paved streets. As I emerged from a small street into the main square, I discovered it was market day! A few small stands had vendors selling cheese, baked goods, and fruits. I first visited the cathedral, whose dome had guided me for miles across the rice fields. It was dark and quiet inside — an interesting departure from Cavaglia’s light-filled Cathedral yesterday. After a quick lap, I took a cornetto and cappuccino from a bar nearby, and bought some Grana Padano cheese (similar to Parmigiano) to add to my lunch. On the way out, I tried to buy a peach off the fruttivendolo, but he refused payment. “Un omaggio,” he said kindly. “Buon viaggio!” An accidental poet.

On the way out of San Germano the signs and the app’s path diverged, which I didn’t realize. Unfortunately, the signs took a detour which involved a longer stint of walking on the highway — nerve-wracking as it had a very narrow shoulder, and drivers had no interest in slowing down to pass walkers. Not my first rodeo, but still — unpleasant.

It was starting to get warm, but there was a nice breeze keeping me cool-ish. I put on The Band’s 1969 eponymous album. It was a great accompaniment to the day — that sort of blues-inspired southern country-rock sound suits the fields. And it’s a great album — Across the Great Divide is of course a favorite, and I like When You Awake (previously recommended by my dad) and Whispering Pines. Behind me, the dome of San Germano’s Cathedral lingered on the horizon, and the mountains somehow seemed to grow bigger the further away I walked.

The fields were occasionally interrupted by large clusters of buildings called cascine. Each cascina looks a bit like a prison. The peasant workers in these rice fields used to live in these small communes, alongside the masters who owned the fields. Interestingly, the song “Bella Ciao,” considered a partisan anthem, actually is a reinterpretation of a song sung by peasant women about the dire working conditions in these rice fields: working before dawn, the master with his stick, the mosquitoes and bugs, the backbreaking labor. If you’re interested, this version of the song is called “Una mattina, appena alzata.”

Today was a surprisingly big day for wildlife. As I walked along the irrigation canals, I would hear the quiet splashes of small frogs jumping into the water, getting out of my way. And in one section, I looked up from the path to see at least 30 herons standing on the path ahead of me. They gracefully took off as I approached, landing a bit further along, before finally realized I was eventually going to reach them and moving to another rice field.

After yet another perilous road crossing, I realized I was really hungry and needed to stop for sustenance. It wasn’t an ideal spot — a shaded picnic area directly next to the highway — but it was going to be almost an hour until the next set of buildings, so it would have to do. I set about making a sandwich of salami, tomato, and cheese — it was delicious, though I realized I bought way too much cheese so ended up saving some for tomorrow.

The remaining road to Vercelli seemed to stretch interminably ahead. I passed by a former cascina with a working fountain and doused my hat and bandana. There was a trattoria, which I hadn’t realized, that offered a pilgrim menu — it would have been a nice place to linger. But, onward. I clung to the narrow strip of grass between a one-lane road and an irrigation canal, made another perilous crossing of the highway, and was back into the rice fields. The sun was high now, and I pulled out my trusty umbrella for some respite.

The VF app said that today would be over 18 miles — but checking my phone, it suggested that the day would be close to 15 based on how much I had walked already. I don’t understand where the discrepancy was, but it didn’t really feel like an 18-mile day, so I guess I am inclined to believe my phone. Anyway, I made one minor shortcut to save 500m or so based on Patrick’s recommendation, before joining the main road into Vercelli.

Vercelli is larger than I realized, so there was over 30 minutes of walking through its busy industrial outskirts — deeply unpleasant. I was very hot and felt the blister on one of my toes starting to bother me once again, so needed to stop at the first place for a cold drink I could find. That happened to be McDonald’s, so I ordered a small Coke and a cold water in the un-air-conditioned restaurant before retreating to the shade outside, which was cooler. The cold water was exactly what I needed. I’d been looking forward to the refreshing sips of an iced Coke but — we are in Italy after all — discovered my drink came with a single cube of ice. Still, it was enough sustenance for me to carry on.

I made my way into the historical center to the volunteer-run hostel where I am staying, where two lovely women checked me in and showed me to my room, offering water and candy for my recovery. I asked if there was a place nearby to eat risotto — naturally, we are in the heart of rice country. “Eat with us tonight,” they said — apparently a pilgrim meal is offered here! “We will make you a risotto.” I’m looking forward to it!

After the normal chores I stopped for awhile to chat with Daniel, the Belgian pilgrim I have run into a few times in the last week. He is also headed to Rome so I suspect this won’t be the last I see of him. He was grateful for the roof over his head after camping last night! I gave him the name of my hostel in Mortara tomorrow as well. I then headed out with good intentions to explore the city, but ended up sitting at a cafe in the main square enjoying the view and sipping a crodino. Behind me was an American couple just finishing up their stint on the VF, so we swapped stories for awhile as well.

Afterwards I went for a walk around the city, where I visited the 13th century Sant’Andrea Basilica, a simple and serene Cistercian church. Just nearby was the 17th Vercelli Cathedral, and you know what — I love a baroque church. Can’t help it. My time in Rome has really converted me. The Cathedral had beautifully high ceilings, and was decorated in marble of all sorts of colors. It was fantastic, and I stayed for awhile admiring the chapel of Amadeus the 9th, one of many Amadeuses from the House of Savoy.

Returning back to the ostello, Anja and Kevin had arrived. We ended up being 8 for our pilgrim dinner: Anna and Norma, the volunteers; Kevin, Anja, Daniel, and I; and two Italian pilgrims, one going by bike and one on foot. The conversation was in Italian, so I did my best to quickly translate for Anja and Kevin. The Italians also made fun of me for talking like an old person, saying “back in the day” in Umbria there were fewer American tourists. “Back in the day??” They laughed. “You’re only 27!” We ate a squash risotto, beans, and a fennel salad — all delicious — and paired with a Barbera d’Alba contributed by one of the Italians. It was a warm evening of laughter and delicious food. I will remember my time in Vercelli fondly.

Final mileage: 15.87mi
Walking time: 7h 30m
Elevation gain: 278 ft

Accommodation: Sanct’Eusebi Ostello degli Amici Della Via Francigena — a pilgrim favorite due to the kindness of the volunteers and the opportunity for a pilgrim meal. I would highly highly recommend.