Eva on the Via Francigena (and beyond)

Song of the Day: Right Down the Line – Gerry Rafferty

Caught myself singing this as I walked into the wind today — not much more here in terms of deeper meaning.

I went to bed last night having been reminded both by my dinner mates as well as by Sergio and Domenico that rain was forecast for this afternoon. By the time I woke up this morning I had sort of forgotten this — I was still pretty wiped from the long day to Radicofani, which I realize was in retrospect probably the most physically demanding day, and which did a number on my knees and feet. So, I was slow out of bed and packing this morning, only spurred into motion when I did finally check the weather and realized it wasn’t just rain, but thunderstorms — forecasted to start at 1pm. It was almost 8am, and according to the app I would be walking 14 miles today. So…I would be cutting it close. In a flurry I finished packing, headed out the door, and stopped at a bar nearby to grab breakfast, which ended up taking longer than expected.

It was a beautiful day of walking today — much more so than I had expected. To be honest, I hadn’t thought much about what today would be like. I had planned initially to do another long day to Montefiascone, skipping Bolsena, but right before departing from Canterbury decided to switch things around to give me a day to explore Bolsena. This was a relief — I don’t think another 20+ mile day would be the best thing for me right now.

So, I was pleasantly surprised to be walking in a cool breeze and under cloud cover through fields. The more aggressive up-and-downs of the Tuscan hills were behind me, and actually for much of the first stint I could see Radicofani looming in the distance. This area definitely reminded me of other hikes I have done in Lazio, but I also felt that if I squinted I might feel like I was back in chilly northern France in August — so many weeks, and so many life experiences ago. Domenico caught up to me and passed me (he is the only pilgrim I have met who walks faster than me, I think) and I passed two Italian pilgrims who were meandering along, stopping to admire the scenery.

This first part of the morning passed easily, walking along fields and greeting farmers as I went. The wind picked up a bit, but it was otherwise extremely pleasant. Soon I found myself rejoining the Via Cassia and marching into the halfway point of San Lorenzo Nuovo.

Cognizant of the impending weather, I didn’t want to hang out here too long — but I also needed to get lunch for later. The first bar I tried was closed, so I made my way to an open pizzeria, where I ordered a macchiato and a sandwich to go. I’m not really sure why, but it ended up taking over 10 minutes for the small sandwich. In the interim, a fresh tray of pizza al taglio with zucchina romanesca and fiori di zucca emerged from the oven — I snagged a piece to eat as I walked, tossing the panino in my pack and quickly continuing on.

From San Lorenzo, I had my first views of the beautiful and impressive Lago di Bolsena, the result of volcanic activity some tens of thousands of years ago. It glittered in the sun, reflecting grey under the cloud cover, but was still a sight to behold. But with no time to spare I had to admire it on the go, heading out of town onto a fantastic little forest track than rolled up and down over boulders along the hillside. At some places the path seemed to have been completely overgrown and then moved, and I found myself sometimes squinting across fallen trees to try and make out VF blazes. But, I made it through this section without incident and soon was on a wider, flat path heading out of the forest.

I passed two Australian women, one walking from Switzerland and one from Lucca, and chatted with them for a bit. Then I continued on, rolling up and down over gentle hills, the lake to my right. I passed through olive farms and past a quarry of some sort as dark grey clouds began to move in. After chatting quickly with a family whose grandmother was keen to walk the VF one day, I soon caught up to Domenico. As it started to drizzle I stopped to cover my pack and he once again passed me.

With the rumble of thunder just audible in the distance, I picked up the pace to a near jog, shouting a brief “Buon cammino” at a couple of pilgrims taking shelter under a tree from the drizzle. Past a few more farms, then onto a road lined with sycamores, I suddenly emerged at a massive castle, where I saw Domenico taking a photo. He waved me down and together we wove our way through a maze of narrow medieval alleyways to the Abbey where we were staying.

Given the forecast, we decided to drop our bags and head back out to see more of the town before the weather worsened. I headed straight to the lake where I polished off my sandwich and watched the white-capped waves hit the shore. Black volcanic sand ran just bellow the paved “lungolago” walkway. Pretty soon the wind and rain began to pick up so I retreated back to the abbey to shower and do my laundry. When the rain quieted I walked a lap through the deserted centro storico — this was the strongest commitment to the hour of riposo (i.e., siesta) I have seen — and then sat in a cafe with a hot chocolate to work on the blog.

After heading back to the abbey I had a long conversation with Domenico and Sergio about life in the US, which eventually evolved into a broader conversation about how cultural differences come to be. My head spinning from this conversation, which pushed the limits of my ability to express myself in Italian, I headed out to do another lap of the city. I ended up parking myself in a deserted wine bar for a glass of Sangiovese. The bar was right next to the castle in the historical center, and felt about as accurate as one can get to the medeival pilgrim experience. It was almost like stepping a few hundred years back in time. I sat here to write and enjoy the wine, saddened by the sign on the wall advertising: “we are looking for successors for the enoteca.” The couple who run the place seem lovely, and I hope business is typically better than this.

A man speaking Italian with an American accent walked in and we got to chatting — as it turns out he is from Boston, but in Italy for a few months traveling around. He had been in Bolsena for a few weeks and had gotten to know the proprietors, so I ended up chatting with hem as well. All in all it was a nice end to my evening. Still needing to eat, I popped into one of the only open restaurants and decided to order the carbonara (since I am now in Lazio). As soon as the pasta arrived I realized my mistake, as it was a sort of light and soupy sauce. In fact, I don’t think here was any egg in it at all — I consoled myself by deciding that this technically made it a gricia (and as a gricia, it wasn’t terrible)… So, I still have the chance to redeem my first carbonara in Italy. Overly full from dinner, I made my way back to the church and was out cold even before Sergio and Domenico could turn out the light.

Final mileage: 13.76 mi
Walking time: 5h 02m
Elevation gain: 1,161 ft

Accommodation: Istituto Suore del Santissimo Sacramento. Very nice nuns — a very basic pilgrim accommodation (one large room with maybe 10 beds).