Eva on the Via Francigena (and beyond)

Song of the Day: Wake Up — Arcade

“Something filled up / my heart with nothing / Someone told me not to cry / Now that I’m older / My heart’s colder / And I can see that it’s a lie”

A great song — lyrically maybe not the best fit for today, but the vibes absolutely matched the feeling of watching the sun come up over the fields.

As I had promised myself, I got an early start to the day: a 5:45 alarm made better only by the fact that I had pretty much packed last night, so could take my time in brushing my teeth and getting dressed. I carried my things out into the hall so as not to wake Anja (my only bunkmate in the girls room) and set about my normal morning routine of taping my feet, brushing my teeth, etc. One of the Italian pilgrims was also up and doing yoga just down the hall.

I had breakfast alone in the kitchen: a few slices of bread with Nutella, a piece of cake, and some tea. Finally, it was time to go — I triple-checked that I had everything (once again, almost forgetting my poles) and headed out into the dark.

I keep forgetting that it’s fall given the weather, and because doing something like this feels like a summer activity (the scholastic calendar is still burned into my brain). But the days are definitely shorter, and it was hard to believe it was almost 7am already as I passed a market setting up.

It took maybe 20 minutes to get out of Vercelli (thankfully, the industrial sprawl didn’t seem to continue on this side of the city), and then sky had started to turn pink as I carefully crossed a bridge on the side of the main road out of town, the Sesia river flowing below.

I turned off the main road onto a gravel track that was elevated above the rice fields, also passing by more perfectly-planted rows of trees. I watched the sun turn from golden to bright white as it rose above the horizon, illuminating the fields of rice which waved in the breeze. Along the path, wildflowers grew, and behind me I could still see the snow-covered mountains.

I was making good pace following these generally well-maintained paths. On the way into Palestro I crossed over a rotting wooden bridge with some slats that had given way, but otherwise the walk was straightforward. Palestro had no signs of life, unsurprisingly, and I passed through it quickly without stopping. On the way out of town the path started to get a bit more dicey: semi-overgrown in areas, so I was pushing weeds out of the way with my poles. At a certain point I thought I lost the path, and then noticed a rope strung across a canal — a jerry-rigged handrail implying I needed to cross the canal on a rickety-looking wall. Okay, va bene.

Shortly after this, only 30 minutes outside of the next town, I diverged from the Via Francigena here on a Maps.Me shortcut. It started out ok, but the path got progressively more and more overgrown, and soon I was covered in spiderwebs and scraped by thorns. The path then opened up but was covered in deceptively tall grass — I had to fully march, knees at a 90 degree angle, to get through. And even though it was almost 10am the grass was still covered in the morning dew, and I could feel it running down the backs of my legs. And then, suddenly, the path disappeared. Maps.Me was convinced it continued along a creek, but I couldn’t see it anywhere. I wandered around for 5 minutes or so, trying to see if I could fine the path, tripping through weeds up to my hips and hoping to avoid falling in the creek. Finally, I found the path, pushed through the overgrowth, and continued on my way — soaked to the bone from the hips down. Not even halfway through my 20 miles today, having wet feet was a bad omen.

I rushed into Robbio on the side of a busy road, and made it into town where I was excited to see it was market day! Parking myself on the first bench, I ditched my shoes and changed into clean socks. A man came over to ask about my Camino, and went to tell his wife that I had arrived from England. Then a group of elderly women came by and asked about my pack. They were shocked to hear where I had come from and that I was walking alone. The oldest of them was very insistent as I went to go that I needed to take care of myself. “It’s an ugly world out there…” I nodded, a bit shaken by her insistence that something bad would happen to me, and went to shop.

I could smell it from the minute I sat down: rotisserie chicken. It was early but I was starving, so I found the seller and purchased a quarter chicken and roast potatoes. I found a spot on a side street outside of a vet’s office to eat, getting some weird looks for eating chicken with my hands at 10:30 am. But again, no shame at this point. After I had finished eating and was sitting, giving my shoes a bit more time to dry, a car pulled up and a woman got out. She asked me aggressively if I was in line, and when I said no, she pulled 3 caged cats out of her car in rapid succession. Then she came over and began interrogating me on why I had the pack — she had not heard of the Via Francigena and was dumbfounded by the idea. Another older woman with her dog came over and joined the conversation, as I explained how the network of hostels in Italy works. The cat lady very aggressively began telling me how it was unsafe for me to walk along, how there are “bruttoni” out there waiting to harm me, how I should always have my phone in hand just in case to call for help. I shrugged — to be clear, I do take my personal safety seriously but didn’t need to be told by this woman — and told her there are “bruttoni” everywhere. As I picked up my pack, the older woman waggled her eyebrows at me as if to say “don’t worry about her.”

I was comforted by this and started to walk away, when I heard a scream. An elderly woman leaving the vet had fallen on the ground. There was a crowd already going to help her up, but I noticed her dog had escaped and was standing near me. I went to grab at its leash, but am not very agile with the pack on, so the dog evaded me. I followed it into the parking lot, and the older woman before grabbed its leash as I guided the dog towards her. She brought the dog and I picked up the woman’s headband, which had fallen. She seemed to be doing okay and there were people helping her, so recognizing I had no other way to help, I made my way out of town.

The next section walk a long walk on a quiet country road. It was so flat I could see cars coming from a long ways away, and there were few of them. A few big 18-wheeler trucks passed by me slowly, including one carrying a P&O Ferries container — a real blast from the past. There were all headed to the Riso Gallo headquarters, which apparently supplies pre-packaged risotto to the UK. The more you know.

The rice fields continued as my companions, and behind me the view of the mountains was slowly fading away. I almost had to squint to see the snow-covered peaks. The sun was high and it was getting hot, so I pulled out my sun-umbrella — well worth the weight once again. As I continued I thought about the symmetry of this walk. This section reminded me of many days in France spent primarily walking on asphalted roads. In some ways, the Alps serve as a mirror, reflecting narrow valley walking (Rhône Valley, Valle d’Aosta), rolling hills, and then wide, flat fields. Of course it’s not perfect, but it has been interesting to see the ways in which these landscapes call back to earlier experiences.

Soon enough I had rejoined the official VF in the town of Nicorvo, whose cafe was open for a Fanta (my sad replacement for Orangina) served with ice, after some begging on my end. I was happy for the chance to sit for a bit, as other than my early lunch in Robbio I hadn’t really stopped today, and I was 16 miles or so in. Just down the road I noticed a tiny church with an open door — popping my head in I realized it was open for pilgrims! I stamped my credential and read through the pilgrims prayer, included below. A lovely moment of repose on a long day.

Leaving Nicorvo with high spirits, I made my way through more rice fields towards Mortara, listening to Boz Skagg’s “Silk Dreams” to propel me along. Somewhere along the way I noticed what looked like crab shells underfoot. I was perplexed — there are irrigation canals and rivers here, but we’re relatively far from the sea! Presumably these had been picked up by birds and deposited here… but from where? I puzzled about this mystery for a solid thirty minutes before turning my mind elsewhere.

Just before Mortara, in the hamlet of Madonna del Campo, I spotted another open church. I was surprised by the interior — the church was covered in frescos, some relatively modern-looking, others that seemed like they could be original. Very interesting. I admired for a bit before heading back out into the hot sun, where I crossed the railway tracks and made the long slog through Mortara’s suburbs into the center of town.

Mortara is known for its goose salami, and to my dismay I discovered that the sangra (food festival) celebrating this delicacy ended two days ago! Yet another festival just barely missed. Disappointing. But, I bolstered my spirits with some gelato before walking the final few kilometers to the Abbazia Sant’Albino, a former abbey where I am staying tonight. An older woman named Franca opened the door and showed me around, then returned to a card game with three others outside. After a shower and laundry I sat in the yard for a bit. There seemed to be an infinite number of identical cats living in the yard — every time I looked up I spotted another one: watching the ducks in the nearby river, hiding under the leaves of squash plants, play-hunting a crunch leaf. For a brief moment I managed to get one to come over to me for pets, but it was quickly distracted.

Heading back inside, soon enough other pilgrims arrived: Daniel ended up also coming here from Vercelli, after failed attempts to stay in Robbio and Nicorvo; and two other women: Joanne and Mariella. I actually recognized Joanne from the Facebook group: she writes a blog called Joanne’s Long Walks.

The four of us enjoyed a simple dinner together, chatting in Italian about the path so far and our plans ahead. After placing our orders for breakfast tomorrow, we retired early — a proper pilgrim evening.

Final mileage: 21.09mi
Walking time: 8h 45m
Elevation gain: 147 ft

Accommodation: Abbazia Sant’Albino. A simple place to stay: cots in a large room, nothing fancy. However, the opportunity for a meal with other pilgrims was great, and I would definitely recommend as a solid, simple, option.