Trains had faithfully brought us across Italy for over a week now, allowing us to explore some of the amazing historic sites of Rome, Florence, Ravenna and more. After that bit of time travel, a train had finally delivered us to Assisi, a town that is central to Italy, both physically and spiritually. From here on we would be relying on our legs. We were about to walk a section of the Via di Francesco (The Way of Saint Francis), a relatively modern pilgrimage that celebrates Saint Francis, the most famous son of Assisi (1182–1226).
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An Assisi Laneway |
But before our pilgrimage began, we wanted to explore Assisi. As with so many Roman and mediaeval towns in Italy, it sits high on a hill. We’d looked up to it in wonder from the valley below as the sun was setting, and our sense of anticipation had grown. There was something magical about the honey-coloured jumble of buildings spotlighted against a dimming sky. The next morning, taking some local advice, we caught a bus from our accommodation to the highest point vehicles are permitted in old Assisi. That allowed us to amble the narrow streets in a downward direction to the basilica of Saint Francis of Assisi, and its enormous collection of associated buildings, and then walk back down to the humble streets and our accommodation.
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Above Assisi: the Umbrian Valley |
The streets were quiet at first, so much so that the woman serving us coffee in a small pasticceria was able to pause to coach me in how to order coffee properly in Italian. “And DON’T try to mix up Italian and English. Just use one or the other.” Si Signora! Anyway, the coffee was good.
The further down the hill we walked, the more people we encountered: tourists, like us - though walking up rather than down. But we also found many small and enticing lanes to explore. How utterly charming the byways of Assisi are: steep, narrow, winding, stone-built and stone-pathed, with inviting portals through arches to who-knows-where. Our great friends Paul and Rose had worked in Assisi as locum ministers a few times, and they’d shared some insights with us. One was their thought that Saint Francis himself would not have been thrilled with the overwrought way in which some parts of the city have been developed, ostensibly in his name. The saint had come from a privileged family, and was an immensely popular young man, always well dressed, good with words, a gifted musician, and a fearless soldier.
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The Basilica of St Francis, Assisi |
All these things Francis had renounced. He’d become a mendicant monk, trusting God, nature and other people to supply his modest needs. But he didn’t suddenly have a personality bypass. He used his charisma to become a powerful advocate for the poor; a champion of the natural world; and a thorn in the side of many popes and other church leaders. While visiting the immense structures erected in his name, we got the sense that, were he still alive, he’d be marching to Rome to protest to the Pope.
But I had to smile at one touch Francis might have approved of in the basilica buildings. The men’s toilets had one of the most remarkable views I’ve ever seen from a loo. Of course there was, and is, so much more to admire about beautiful Assisi, with its superb array of stone buildings perched above the Umbrian Valley, as if a staging post on the way to heaven.
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View from the Loo in Assisi's Basilica |
The next morning had a hint of autumn to it, although clear skies suggested the slight chill wouldn’t last long. We left our main bags in the hands of a carrier, who would take them to our next accommodation, and slung on our day packs. We exited Assisi via Capuchins Gate and began walking: destination Spello. It was 9 o’clock, and the air was pleasantly cool, perfect for walking.
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At Assisi's Capuchin Gate |
I’ll admit to being a little vague about our route for the day, but the tour company had supplied us with a digital map, which worked perfectly with Google Maps on our phones. Of course, this style of two-dimensional map lacks full information about the vertical element of the walk. That required that I read the notes, which I had done … a little while back.
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The Yellow and Blue Symbols of The Way of St Francis |
As soon as we spotted the first yellow and blue symbol of our route, we began to learn that that third dimension - the vertical one - was going to be a strong feature of today’s walk. While our path was uphill, it was very pleasant walking, mainly through pine forest. We’d no sooner started smelling that lovely piney scent, than it was accompanied by the sound of many chainsaws. The local forestry company was harvesting the pines. We laughed and – a la “The Castle” – exchanged “how’s the serenity?” looks before plodding onward and upward.
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Forest walking ... uphill |
By the time the chainsaw sound had receded, our path had levelled out. This was more like it! Lovely forest, a well-marked path, and no more strenuous climbing. That didn’t last very long, however, and we were soon back on an uphill plod, and in noticeably warming weather. But bit by bit we noticed the height of the trees diminishing, and after some more sweat and determination, we broke out above the tree line. And as we did so, a bright red paraglider popped into view above Mount Subiaso. We watched with a mix of joy and envy.
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Paraglider above Mont Subiaso
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I’d known we’d be traversing part of Mt Subiaso, but I didn’t realise we’d be so close to the top, which is 1290m above sea level. A quick look at my slightly neglected track notes showed that we had ascended more than 800 metres from Assisi. That’s quite an effort, but one that began to be greatly rewarded. The views in every direction were stunning, and the walking was now through undulating grassland, with an accompanying tinkle of cowbells (though we never caught sight of the belled creatures). Walking above the tree line has to be one of my all-time favourite things, and we both revelled in this section of the walk.
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Looking back to Assisi from Mt Subiaso |
Throughout the walk we’d been careful to pause for food and drink stops, and now we paused in the shade of a bush to shell and eat some hard-boiled eggs we’d kindly been given by our accommodation staff. Then we walked on for another hour and a half before stopping for a fuller lunch break. We were grateful that it was all downhill after that.
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Starting the descent towards Spello |
Those words “all downhill” would come back to bite us before long. If 800 metres uphill is strenuous, 940 metres downhill can be diabolical. Gradually the leaf-littered forest path had become a long, steep, gravelly farm track. Even with trekking poles, our feet slipped quite often. By the time we’d dragged ourselves into the beautiful old town of Spello, we were spent. For us the final section had tainted what had been a truly superb day’s walk. Nonetheless we were greatly pleased that we’d successfully completed this 15km section of the walk. Our admiration for St Francis doing the walk in bare feet and a robe, was immense.
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Approaching Spello ... at last! |
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