The Spoleto most people see: wonderful churches - here the Duomo and an ad for a De Chirico show (which seemed to fit right in with the piazza here. |
Our view from the mountains above Spoleto. |
These were our directions. |
In front of the train station, one is greeted by this improbably contemporary sculpture ala Calder. |
Along with a crude map we photographed from the Internet. |
We have done this hike twice. The first time we found it on the Internet, clipped and pasted the description of the hike (in Italian), took photos of it for my iPhone and off we went.
The second time we forgot we had directions and did it from memory (!).
First thing off the train, an obligatory coffee stop at the commonly-named bar - L'angolo del caffe ("coffee corner"). |
And for those of you who want to skip the woods, menacing dogs, getting lost, etc., just scroll down to photos of the hermitages and the town.
Signage helps - until it runs out. We'll see the rocca (fortress) on top later on - we'll look down on it. |
Maps along the way - even with bullet holes in them - are helpful. |
It starts in an unassuming place on the side of the town that is decidedly not historic-looking - though we have yet to figure out what this dry waterway is (it was dry 3 years later as well) - it's a large space that seems outside the town walls at right.
Selfie on the Cima. |
And from the top, one can see the ruins of a castle not far below.
Castle ruins (apologies, can't recall the century!). |
"Truffle gathering reserve" |
After a short wild-ish stretch, the path enters more civilized zones, including farms, complete with menacing dogs, and a park.
Farm houses - the path goes right past them. |
Menacing dogs - one walks right next to them. Fortunately the Italian description of the hike assures one they are fenced in. |
Improbably situated park - the second time we took this hike, I think it was a Sunday, and Italians were grilling on this outdoor grill. |
Unfortunately, logging has destroyed some of these gorgeous forests. |
An adjacent chapel - I believe honoring a St. Francis follower, Saint Bernardino. |
We reached - not knowing it was there the first time - the revered sanctuary for San Francesco - St. Francis - on a high hill (called "Monteluco") above Spoleto, next to the "sacred wood" ("sacro bosco") he - and his fellow monks - loved.
The sanctuary was apparently founded in the 5th century by Syrian Christians fleeing their homeland and turned over to St. Francis in the 13th century.
Italians hanging out at the bar below the sanctuary on the edge of the sacred wood. They do know how to relax. |
Monks' walk. |
Abandoned church #1. |
Abandoned church #2. |
Hermitage now a private home. |
Tourists hanging out at pool at hermitage now a B&B. |
Perhaps an excess of signage. |
These
signs show the "via Francigena" - the
St. Francis way (that goes into France
and England) - it's noted by its yellow
and blue signage. We are often on it,
even very close to Rome (on Monte
Mario, for example).
At left, the yellow-and-blue marker for the via Francigena has had some additions to it:
The view looking to the town of Spoleto, before crossing the bridge, with the rocca we had seen when we started at the top. |
It doesn't look scary from this point of view, but it's a precipitous and long drop off the right. |
"Bridge of the towers - 13th century, 80 meters high; about 230 meters long" |
Our disappointment on our last hike. The bridge was closed. |
And, finally, some of you will be happy to learn, we reached the town of Spoleto - and these magnificent walls - no doubt pre-Roman. |
The town of Spoleto is full of steep streets, lovely churches and piazzas. The Duomo is richly decorated. |
Apse of the Duomo, with a fresco cycle begun by Fra Lippo Lippi |
Here, some street scenes from Spoleto.
A medieval bathroom. |
Our second time in Spoleto we were desperately hungry and, of course, hit the town when everything is closed - after 3 p.m. on Sunday. We found one small bar open, and the one person working there served us a kind of filled focaccia (as I recall she was an immigrant and the bread was that of another country - but my memory can't bring back the country) that was wonderful - it turns out she had made the focaccia herself.
Dianne