Florence to Rome: back from an amazing one-month hike across Italy

We need breaks. We all do. These can come in the form of a single deep breath, a cup of tea, playtime with the kids, a sunset walk with a loved one. I hope you manage to take your breaks, too - if you don't, you lose out on life. You may not burn out, you may struggle on and muddle through and not just manage but succeed time and time again. But unless you take those breaks, what's the point? It is during those breaks that we find balance and clarity and meaning and strength. One might even say that the best of life comes our way during those breaks.

I take lots of breaks (big fan!) - and this most recent was a special one, a time-out in the form of a one-month hike in Italy, the Via di Francesco or St. Francis Way, a path that essentially follows the Apennines mountain range from Florence to Rome. I'm not religious, but it is considered a pilgrimage journey (like the far more famous Camino de Santiago) that brings to life the places and stories of the animal-loving saint Francis of Assisi.

An old friend and I had decided on October for our hike - a time far from the high temperatures of summer, and yet still a time where we expected Italy to regale us with pleasant weather and a time filled with autumn colors as we'd walk through picturesque Italian landscapes (from Tuscany to Umbria and into Lazio), with history and culture and good food and wine for company.

Well, we had all of that and then some. In this article I'll just share some random thoughts and observations and pictures - if you're up for it, tag along!

The Via di Francesco

There are various ways of doing the Via di Francesco and, as we found out, many pilgrims are only doing some of it. We were among the few who had decided on doing the whole journey from Florence through La Verna and Assisi and all the way to Rome. It meant a total of about six hundred kilometers with an average of six hours hiking per day. No biggie, only a few strenuous hikes, but still, a hike such as this one means getting into a groove and sticking with it - we soon realized that we had entirely forgotten about getting into a groove - before we knew it, we were in it and just hiked.

Some people do the hike from Rome, in reverse, so to speak - I couldn't possibly recommended it that way. If you do it, start in Florence - otherwise you'll be spending the the first two days just getting out of Rome! Florence, on the other hand, is small by comparison and so we shouldered our backpacks and were soon in the country, with the path - and its iconic yellow Tau (the T symbol St. Francis used to sign his letters) - most often fairly well marked.

Everchanging landscapes

Well, not actually everchanging. Changing, for sure, but by the very nature of hiking you are taking your time and landscapes change slowly, and sometimes they don't seem to change at all for days on end. But, of course, they do. You start to become aware of the little things - of clouds and mist, or morning dew, of the changing colors of leaves. A hike doesn't take time, a hike gives time. All you have to do is walk and allow yourself to get lost in that simple pleasure.

As for actual landscapes. When I think back I'd say there were essential three broad strokes, just as there were three regions. I remember our way through Tuscany as constant forest. It wasn't, of course. But it sure felt like it at times.

You didn't actually see much of the fabled Tuscan landscapes, you were simply hiking in dense forests, up hills and mountains and down hills and mountains. Passing a creek here or there (occasionally barefoot as heavy rainfalls had caused quite a bit of havoc across Northern Italy - and to some of our route), then more forest, broken up occasionally by clearings overgrown with lush fern.

The region of Umbria follows Tuscany and, while Umbria boasts many of the most stunning hilltop villages like Spello and Trevi and Monte Falco, what I remember most from hiking along the slopes of the Umbrian Valley were ... olive groves. This is where it happens when it comes to olives. Olive groves everywhere and all the time and then you grab a café and cornetto in the bar at the market square of one of the picturesque villages and then you hike on into more olive groves.

And then finally, long after hiking through and experiencing the amazing Gubbio and, of course, Assisi, you enter the third leg of the journey - the region of Lazio. Mind you, they still have some olive grove things going on there, but far less so. My strongest sense of landscape of that region was a sense of mellowing, of rolling hills calming down on the way to the eternal city.

So how about wildlife?

Well, I can tell you from all of the many signs that a great deal of wildlife was there - for the most part, however, I didn't see it. The first half of the Via di Francesco takes you through remote countryside, the aforementioned forests, a farm here or there, a rare village - but for the most part, it's nature. Plenty of room for nature to roam, to flow as it must. Because of its expansive remoteness, this region is well known for its rich wildlife, deer, boar - and most definitely wolf.

We were rarely early risers and so, by the time we hiked a path, others had already come before us and sent wildlife scattering (by the way, unlike the Camino de Santiago, the Via di Francesco is neither packed nor commercialized. While you may see other hikers again at a next village, we barely met any of them while we were hiking.)

During one of our many forest hikes we came across this amazing fire salamander and many of his pals. They had clearly loved the heavy downpours and were out in numbers. We were also told by other hikers about deer and boar - and we saw quite a few hunters out on the prowl for that mainstay of Italian country cuisine, the cinghiale (boar).

On that note, I've just watched the wonderful documentary "The Wolf Within" - it very much centers on coexistence with the wolf in Italy. In it, one of the hunters talks about the wolf and is quite nonchalant about it, saying that there's plenty of boar for both wolf and human hunters.

For shepherds, however, that's obviously nothing to be nonchalant about when it comes to the wolf. In the documentary one shepherd is portrayed. He talks about both loving and hating the wolf, and is very much in favor of coexistence. Talking about sheep, we saw many of them on remote pastures and yes, we always also saw the famed guard dogs, the Maremmano, among and around those flocks.

Hikers are alerted to the presence of the guard dogs with signs - and I love it - it heightens the senses and lets hikers know that they are out in nature, that awareness and caution and respect are a must.

One time we came across a herd of sheep with no shepherd anywhere near - but the sheep were most definitely well protected. Three large Maremmano were there the moment they saw us approaching the herd - and three younger Maremmano (juveniles but even these already sizeable) were tagging along, clearly learning the ropes from the elder pros. We kept our respectful distance, let them know that we knew who was in charge, and then walked on with measured steps.

Another bit of "wildlife" we met was a truffle hunter and his Lagottos! Quite curious, really. Because our first family dog had been a Maremmano - and our second and current family dog is indeed a Lagotto. Nothing ferocious about these amazing dogs - but oh how clever and fun and adorable ... now if ours would only start finding those truffles!

Saint Francis and the wolf

Along the Via di Francesco you come across stations of the man's storied life. Such as when he prayed with the birds, or found his calling at San Damiano, or took shelter under a special tree, or the time when he saved a town from a fearsome wolf. True story ... well, more likely apocryphal. Still, quite a tale. The town of Gubbio was living under the terror of a wolf who killed any and everything that went beyond the city walls. The citizens of Gubbio (a marvelous town to visit, by the way) no longer dared leave the city - until Saint Francis came to save the day.

Against the pleading of the people, Francis went out and met the wolf. He told the wolf that he didn't want him to be killed by the townspeople. He wanted to find a way that would lead to peaceful coexistence. He told the wolf that, if he no longer killed people, the people of Gubbio would not hunt him and ensure that he would always have enough food.

And so it happened. While it likely is not much more than a religious fairytale, it still sends a good message about coexistence to this day. And, wouldn't you know, there is an ancient chapel in Gubbio and in its crypt there is a wolf-sized grave site where the wolf, who had continued to live there peacefully for two years, supposedly lies buried. So who knows, eh?

A few more special moments

I guess you could call every moment, every step, a special one, as you hike those hundreds of kilometers. But of course you're not always aware, and there's bliss in that, too. Sometimes, as you hike, your mind goes wandering, too. You're just there, step after step, breath after breath, with a mind that feels joyously blank and a spirit that just keeps drinking it in as you make your way ever closer to Rome. Still, some moments do stand out. Here are a few, in no particular order:

We used booking.com to arrange our overnights. Often, in smaller villages, there wasn't a great deal of choice - and still we found ourselves surprised in many ways along the way by the many good choices we'd apparently made. The above image is from one such unusual choice: Painter Paolo Gennaioli makes a room in his tower apartment in Pieve Santo Stefano available to travelers. We were warmly welcomed (as we often were) and shown around his pad, resplendent with his original artwork on all the walls. Quite special!

After arriving in Gubbio (visit Gubbio!), the place of Saint Francis' aforementioned wolf encounter/pact, we got caught in the rain on our way to see some of the sites. So we hopped into a gallery - and boy oh boy was it ever cool. We were the only visitors and the lovely guide lady led us through a very special exhibition - all about art created with recycled materials. Among the many were flamingo and bear and monkey and boar ... and the wolves, of course. Truly stunning work.

Below image was taken from the ridge of an Agriturismo we had booked ourselves into. There were adorable alpacas roaming the grounds and a Japanese lady made sure we had everything we needed - we did! A whole apartment, welcome beers in the fridge and a sunny day ... the next morning we realized just how perfectly situated that place really was - there was, all around us, thick fog in the valleys below - what a sight!

And when we took off again, it was truly spectacular to just step off the ridge and descend straight into thickest fog - it was the kind of moment when fairytales are no longer just stories - as you step into below image, you feel that those tales are not just possible in some farfetched fantastical way, but are instead very likely very real. Just a feeling ... but I'm sure you, too, have had such moments, right?

Below image is somewhat bizarre. It's a dog that stands on the vertical front wall of one of Assisi's big churches, the cathedral of San Rufino. I mean everything in Assisi is truly a sight to behold - but the one thing that really caught my attention was that dog, high up on the fa?ade ... what the heck? I thought it whimsical and joyous, someone, way back when, was allowed to have a bit of fun and bring a bit of everyday life to the fa?ade. There are many more curious creatures (and a lion eating a person at the entrance) - check it out.

After our overnight in Spoleto (another curiosity: a large medieval town squashed into a steep hillside - so steep, they built escalators - like in Hong Kong! - to get you wherever you need to go) we had one of our toughest hikes ahead of us - lots of mountainous ups and downs as we made our way toward the Valnerina - a narrow valley forged by the river Nera, with villages and monasteries and castle towers dotted into the steep mountain sides.

But before we got down into the Valnerina - we came across Sensati, a long-abandoned village that is now home to a artist of sorts. Wherever you looked, there were colored rocks and signs and paintings and toys built into the landscape - like the below train. When we passed a sign alerted us that he was away and, hence, no coffee for us! I have to admit it was eerie - you couldn't help but wonder what life must be like in a place that is so remote in every direction - and every direction only offers steep hiking paths.

Below snapshot sure does look like something straight out of a medieval tale of swords and wizards, doesn't it (actually, it so strongly reminded me of the wonderfully atmospheric eighties movie Ladyhawke, which, by the way, was filmed in northern Italy)? Well, That's exactly what it looked like the morning we left the lakeside town of Piediluco and made our way toward that mountaintop village called Labro. Should you ever find yourself near there, do take the time - not only will there be great views, good coffee and scrumptious cornetti waiting for you at the top, the village also has made an unusual transition into modern times.

You see, as you hike across the remote regions of Italy (or those of many other countries, mind you), you'll sometimes come across abandoned villages (like the aforementioned Sensati), or villages that are clearly deteriorating, in the process of dying out with more and more young people seeking their fortunes in cities. Labro experienced just during the 1950s and the village began to fall into disrepair. Then luckily, in the late sixties, Flemish architect Yvan Van Mossevelde found himself at Labro during one of his trips. He fell in love with it and, since he specialized in the recovery of historic buildings, he went on to help protect the village. When you walk through the narrow streets today, you can feel the love for detail, the sense of past and pride ... as Labro says of itself: "Labro, a village where stones have a soul."

Below you see a weirdly sprawling beech tree. It goes back a few hundred years at best, but is still considered part of the Saint Francis lore. There's no way this tree would have been around in the time around 1200, but on the other hand - miracles, right? If people can walk on water and talk to birds and bring the dead back to life and make pacts with wolves and some such, why wouldn't there be room for a miraculously ancient beech?

Well, when you visit the so-called "Faggio di San Francesco" (beech of Saint Francis), you're bound to see it as something very special. What a marvelous spot in the wood where, according to religious history, Saint Francis took shelter during a particularly ferocious storm. And not only that, you see, but the tree specifically assumed its current umbrella-like sprawling shape on that occasion.

A few words about food

One of the most glorious things about time spent in Italy is, of course, the culinary culture. Italian cuisine is honest, just as - most often - are the restaurants. Below picture gives you a perfect sense - it may look like a random street to you, even a clichéd one with the blue sky and the washing hanging - that image is a slice of regular Italian life and there, in the building to the left and barely visible, you see the red sign for the Osteria Vicolo delle Stelle in Monterotondo - where we had one of our many incredibly good meals.

There's something incredibly enriching, for both body and soul, to walk all day and then find a place for dinner and then fully enjoying said dinner, knowing that you'll need the energy for another long day's walk the next day. There's never even the hint of a guilty pang about possibly eating a bit too much of this or that - you eat, because you need to eat - and that honest and healthy Italian cuisine makes the whole experience all the better. I mean, seriously know, ask yourself - when's the last time ate Italian food for a whole month straight and never gain a pound?

And finally, Rome!

When we arrived in Rome, they were ready for us with a red-carpet ceremony.

Okay, well, not exactly. It just so happened that - on our final day into the heart of Rome, we came across the location of the Rome Film Festival. The festival had just ended and people were packing and leaving. On the spur of the moment, I asked one of the valets if he could take a picture of us on the red carpet - and that's all the story there is to that pic - still, had fun doing it!

And then of course there's the real climax, the worthy finale to a one-month hike, walking past Castel Sant Angelo and then up Via Conciliazione and onto Saint Peter's Square. What a moment - and it was made all the sweeter because our partners had traveled to Rome to be there with us. They'd been early and waiting in a nearby café when my wife spotted me and jumped me out of nowhere - sheer joy.

There'd be much more to tell, many more stories and thoughts and special moments - but I'll just leave you with this picture.

If you ever get the chance to do this hike, or another long-distance hike like it - go for it! You will not only not regret it, but you'll be making memories to last a lifetime and that time, the time spent 'just walking', you'll forever know that this is when you were as close to peace and balance and contentment as you ever were. And with that learning, you'll know that all of that peace and balance and contentment is always right outside your door - you just need to start walking.