Via di Francesco – Arrone to Poggio Bustone

Italy is incredibly beautiful. Every day, I find myself marveling at the mountains, hills, valleys, flowers, trees, creeks, and wildlife. The sky, when not filled with rain clouds, is an intense blue that looks almost unreal. It is dramatic when those storm clouds roll in, making it an awesome site. The architecture, both ancient and modern(ish), reflects the people of Italy: strong and beautiful, stately and welcoming. But something has been missing from my day to day excursions. I have yearned to see water: powerful, rushing, expansive and reflecting. I got my wish during this stage of the Via di Francesco: Marmore Falls, Velino River and Lake Piediluco.

Arrone to Marmore Falls to Piediluco

I left Arrone after a quick bite to eat at Flo Bar. Lovely Rita from my B&B, had, once again, arranged for a special meal for me. The Via di Francesco followed country roads and then wound through the forest to the mountain summit. There were many signs pointing me to the site that I longed to experience: Marmore Falls.

Cascata delle Marmore

At the top of the mountain, an open gate beckoned me into an outside museum of sorts. Large pieces of hydraulic equipment are stationed throughout the area, each marked with signs explaining the historical and mechanical significance to the falls. Cascata delle Marmore, the Waterfall of the Marbles, is the oldest man-made waterfall in the world. It serves as a tourist site, but more importantly, a source of hydroelectric energy for the city of Terni.

History of the falls

The Romans began construction in 271 BC, enlarging a section of the Velino river. The result was a vast pool of stagnant disease causing water. To correct this issue, a newly constructed canal directed the water over a cliff into the Nera River in the valley. Although this corrected the stagnant water problem, it caused a new one: periodic flooding of the city of Terni. It wasn’t until 1787, that Pope Pius VI contracted a prominent French-Italian architect, Andrea Vici, whose design altered the canal and solved the flooding problem. It is Vici’s design that we see today, a lofty cascading waterfall, powerfully careening down the mountain side and into the valley.

I purchased an entrance ticket for 12 euros (approximately $13.25) in the ticket building. There was only 1 family ahead of me, so the wait was brief. During weekends and holidays, I suspect that the queue is rather long, so pre-purchasing the tickets online would be worthwhile.

The Parco of Marmore Falls

From the upper entrance, there is only one pathway, which leads downhill to the first viewing point of the falls. Ahhhh. This is the beauty that I craved! Powerful water thundering into the rocks below, its spray mist blowing toward me. I continued down hundreds of steps to other pathways that crossed the rushing water and led to more views of the cascades. It’s a good thing that I had a backpack cover and a raincoat, as the splash from the waterfall was soaking. For those not prepared with rain gear, many helpful vendors peddle their ponchos for a mere 4 euros each.

I followed every available path, walking with a goofy grin on my face. After a protein bar snack, a chug of cold water and a pit stop in the park bathroom, I ventured back up mountain. From the lower Belvedere region of the park, visitors must climb approximately 600 steps to reach the first viewing point of the falls. As tempting as it may have been, I did not count the steps to the top. My thighs burned, but I was thrilled to have completed it without stopping and with normal breath. Perhaps I was finally “in hiking shape”?

Outside of the park, in the vicinity of the ticket office, a food court called my name. I plopped into a seat, ordered a freshly squeezed orange juice and salad and refueled for the remaining miles of my walk.

Onward to Piediluco

From the falls, I followed the curves of the Velino River. I was on a high after standing so close to the magnificent waterfalls, my heart pounded from excitement and in awe. My subsequent walk along the river was pleasant, peaceful and brought me great joy. God, indeed, is a majestic artist and witnessing the beauty of His creation often brings me to tears.

White stones announced that I had reached my destination; the word, “Piediluco” emblazoned on the side of a hill that bordered the road. I entered the town, with the Lago di Piediluco (lake) on my right and the village on my left. Piediluco translates to “footlight” but is believed to mean “at the foot of the sacred woods” of the neighboring mountains.

The town of Piediluco

Piediluco is an ancient fishing village, built, like the majority of the towns along the Via di Francesco, during the medieval times. I walked along the main corridor, a mix of asphalt, pavers and cobblestones. After checking into a quaint apartment hidden within a row of old stone walls, I explored the town. In the historic center stands the Chiesa di San Francesco, a church named for Francis of Assisi, the saint who’s path I was following. As I ascended the old stairs of the church, the Queen song, “Don’t Stop Me Now” blasted from a neighboring window. The music made me smile as I did not stop my steps and entered the church to pray.

Pilgrims carry a Credenziale, a credential that is stamped at the day’s end point. Piediluco was the first town where the stamp was located within the church, for us to stamp our own booklets. Typically, a priest of the church, a hostel owner, or restaurant server provides the timbro (stamp). But Piediluco was not like any of the other towns or villages that I had visited, so the change in procedure didn’t really surprise me.

Dinner

Piediluco is the only lake town on the Via di Francesco route making it unique. As I strolled the town, I stopped to look at restaurant menus. The chef of Tre 7 happened to be walking past as I perused the dinner options. He promised me a special allergy safe vegan dinner and I agreed to return when the restaurant opened at 7pm, provided I could have an outside table overlooking the water. The chef kept his promise and I watched the sun go down as I sipped Grechetto, a local white wine, and finished my delicious meal.

Piediluco to Poggio Bustone

The lake was smooth as glass and the sky threatened to storm as I walked alone on the main street through Piediluco. Rain was in the forecast for late in the afternoon and I hoped to be in my next B&B long before the first drop hit the ground.

My next stop, Poggio Bustone, was 14 miles away. The first 3 miles were an easy jaunt along the river, onto country roads and a dirt path into the village of Labro. That medieval town marked the beginning of a 3,400′ elevation climb. As I wandered up the many steps and walkways, the village was eerily quiet. The homes were tidy, flowers bloomed in sporadic pots along the path. But not a person in sight. Perhaps the village is managed by cats? The felines pranced along the walkways, lazily dozed on porch steps and gracefully leapt from high walls, making their presence known to the intruding pilgrim hiker.

The trail markings have shifted from the familiar red and white Tau signs to the blue and yellow Cammino Di Francesco. Although it’s a different path, it aligns with my journey to Rome.

A creepy forest

Unusual events happened during my walk through the forest. As usual, I didn’t encounter another person until I arrived at my final destination. The sky was darkening and I picked up my pace, pushing my way through brambles and thorny bushes. I felt a mild tug at the flesh on my arms, but didn’t realize until much later that blood was trickling down in small rivulets, dripping from my elbow. I shook off the droplets, but didn’t stop until I saw a massive bright red puddle of blood on a rock in the middle of the path. Some poor creature met an early demise and I wasn’t sure that I wanted to see who made the mess.

Ahead, I spied an oddly shaped log and gave it a kick. It was heavy and barely moved. That was no chunk of wood but a massive leg bone! I shivered, perhaps from the dropping temperatures and increased wind. More likely, it was from the eerie happenings. It was then that I heard something large moving in the trees. I could see something big and brown, but couldn’t make it out. When I heard a low growl that sounded almost horse-like, I put my pace into super high gear. It was barely after 1:00, but the daylight resembled dusk. The rain was coming; I could smell it. I just hoped that some big furry creature wasn’t coming, too.

The rain returned with gusto

The thunder roared, shaking the trees as huge raindrops began to pelt me. The path quickly turned into a stream, and before long, my legs were drenched and covered in mud. But I pushed on, unwilling to wait out the storm in the dark forest. My breath was heavy from the uphill and fast climb. Was it me that sounded like Darth Vader or another hidden creature?

Finally, the trees thinned, allowing more light on the path. Incidentally, the lack of trees left me exposed to the storm. Fortunately, I came to a road shortly thereafter and walked unshielded from the downpour to Poggio Bustone. The ongoing rain washed away most of the mud on my clothes and boots, which was a silver lining.

Poggio Bustine

As the storm subsided, I caught my first glimpse of the town and the valley below. The clouds drifted in and out of the scene. One moment I could see ancient stone buildings only to be replaced in the next by swirling grey. The fog was heavy and just as wet as the rain had been.

My B&B, the Casa San Giacomo, was along the Via di Francesco path at the top of the village. I gratefully entered the warm, inviting and cozy space provided by yet another Rita. For the first time in weeks, another hiker shared the space with me. Hector, a pilgrim from Mexico, was traveling northbound to Assisi. We traded stories and shared tips about the upcoming sections of our subsequent hikes.

Lovely, Lovely People

Together, Hector and I ventured downhill into town to shop at the grocery store and restock on snacks. We chatted easily, but our legs worked hard as we trudged back to our lodging. I opted to walk on to find the mountainside church that I spied as I entered the town. Mass had just begun and I found an open spot to stand in the back of the church. Every pew was filled with local parishioners and I could feel that this church community was a family.

Signora Rita served a magnificent meal: salad, risotto, fruit and wine. She insisted that Hector and I eat more, but we could barely finish the first serving, let alone go for seconds. Rita is a wonderful cook, and it’s clear she pours her love for others into every dish she prepares.

I snuggled into my warm little bed, grateful for the new friendship that I’d found with Hector and the care shown by Ms. Rita and her family.

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Keep reading (spoiler alert – my husband returns!)