How Not To Come Off Monte Mario

 

We 2 "pilgrims" reflected in the glass of the now-closed Lo Zodiaco cafe'

at the top of Monte Mario. Great views still available.

Never ones to shy away from hard truths, your RSTers went last year to mourn at the site of the now-closed Lo Zodiaco cafe' (the bar also is closed). Not long ago, it was a lovers' (and families' and anyone liking a good view) hangout (- he path along the front of it is called "vialetto degli Innamorati" ["Lovers' Lane"]).

We walked up our usual way, from via Gormezzina, near Piazzale Maresciallo Giardino (admitttedly around a closed gate - but the "herd path" was clear), enjoying the wide switchbacks on sampietrini (cobblestones) mostly maintained by the non-profit RomaNatura (the informational boards along the way now are mostly destroyed). (Monte Mario came in at #11 on RST's Top 40, and is an itinerary in our guidebook, Rome the Second Time.)

We checked out the usual cafes in Piazzale delle Medaglie d'Oro (at the end of it, you can see signs for the via Francigena--St. Francis's way, now tantalizingly close to its Vatican destination). Then, in hindsight foolishly, we decided to take the paths that ran down and across the winding, very curvy, not always well-banked road we had scootered down several times, but also had walked down: viale dei Cavalieri di Vittorio Veneto, just below the Hotel Rome Cavalieri.

MAP AT END OF POST

Except the paths seemed to be nonexistent, and we found ourselves plastered against the retaining walls in an effort not to be run over.

Left photo, paths in bad shape.

Friends to whom we described our trek later that night said, "oh, you mean K-2"--that's the name for this outrageously speedy and dangerous separated "highway."

Right photo, Dianne hesitates as any shoulder is about to disappear.

Left photo. No shoulders - or even ditches or brush - wide enough to feel safe.

On closer inspection, the road we just came down on still sports a slogan to the Lazio Ultra (generally right-wing) Gabriele Sandri, killed in 2007 (hence the "Vive"), about whom Bill posted in 2011 here.

We finally got off this road on via Romeo Romei, which skirts the back of (more like a parking lot for) the national Appeals Court. It was under heavy scaffolding on the day we walked by.

All of which is to say, we won't do this one again!

Map below shows Piazzale delle Medaglie d'Oro at top left, Lo Zodiaco (as if it were still open) top center, and the walking path switchbacks leading up to it going off at right.

The big curvy dark stuff in the center was "our path," i.e. the road, leading down to the Corte d'Appelo.

No, don't try this yourselves.

Dianne

History, Myth and Mystery through Italian Trail Markers

The best of trail markers - at the top.  Here, Monte Gennaro - "Rome's mountain," complete with cross, Italian flag, and
clear markers - once you are up there - of the various ways down.

Who would have thought trail markers would have turned into a debate about Italian war history, geology and hiking myth?

Here's a mysterious one - again, on Monte Gennaro - the
traditional trail marker has been replaced with... well, you
see what.

We shouldn't have been surprised.  Signed trails in central Italy can be more entertainment than guides much of the time.  Since we've hiked almost every peak within 50 miles of Rome - and there are probably 100 - we like to think we're experts.

Yet, getting lost is one of our fortes as well. It's partly us, it's partly the trail maps slapped over WWII maps and not updated, it's partly the vandalism of trail markers, and it's partly the inadequacies of central Italy's trail system.  Central Italians tend to prefer the sea to the mountains.  And, after all, it's not the Alps. Still, as I said, it can be entertaining.  So here are some of the markers we learned from, puzzled over, and laughed at so far this Spring.

First, we learned some history.  On our hike to Monti Gemma and Malaina, that Bill wrote about recently, one of our fellow hikers told the story he was told by a guide as they were hiking around Monte Cassino (where the Allies in February 1944 bombed the abbey to smithereens trying to drive out the Germans).  That story, as our fellow hiker reported to our group, was that some thought the markers were to commemorate the Poles who actually took Monte Cassino, after multiple attempts by multiple armies, 3 months later, on May 18, 1944. The Polish flag is red and white.

Polish flag

Austria-Hungary flag; the Austria-
Germany flag of 1918-1919 is pure
red and white.

No, he was told by this guide, the generally consistent red and white trail markers derived from the Austro-Hungarians in World War I marking their retreat line with the colors of their flag.  I don't think he meant to say they were around Monte Cassino, which is south of Rome, but just that this is how the system started.

A confused and confusing marker -
red and white? yellow and red? blue?

"No, no," said our guide, Domenico, that's a myth.  As Domenico told his version of the story, the marking system in central Italy--basically in all the Apennines which run lengthwise through the country--was red and yellow.  They did not use white because the rocks of the Apennines are limestone, which is white, and so white is not a good color to use.

CAI's red and white - no mistaking it here.

But, after World War II, the Europeans decided to use one coloring system.  The dominant Italian group maintaining the trail system is CAI (rhymes with "eye"), Club Alpino Italiano ("Italian Alpine Club").  The red and white was used in the Alps, and because the northern Italians dominate the hiking scene - their mountains are higher (though the Gran Sasso a few hours from Rome is 10,000 feet) - they won out. The central Italians clearly think to this day that white is just plain wrong.  BTW, I googled quite a bit, and it looks like Domenico's story is likely the correct one.

Look behind the cows and calves and you'll see blue markers.   So blue is still in use.
  On the high plain on Monte Gennaro.  Can't resist the animal shots.

First we saw just blacked-over markers.  Was the trail out of commission?

And then we discovered this Spring on our perhaps 5th hike up "Rome's mountain"--Monte Gennaro, the tallest that looms outside of the city--that the trail markers had been "cancellato," or blacked out, probably with spray paint.

First the CAI sign is spray painted over black, then
someone has written: "CAI? No! thanks"

We went back and forth on the trail a few times to see if there was some reason the trail might have been re-routed, but, finding nothing, kept going.  We thought perhaps someone wanted to turn the trails more back to nature, as has happened to some extent in the Adirondacks in New York.  By eliminating trail markers, fewer people take the trails and one route does not become eroded.

But then we saw the reason here.  Someone is having a feud with the hiking section maintaining the trails:  the Tivoli section of CAI (Tivoli is the closest 'large' town).   Soon we saw that CAI had come along and painted their red and white markers over the black paint, and then someone else had come along and written on the CAI markers various blasphemes at CAI (see the photos).  We haven't been able to figure out the source of the feud.  But there it is.

This one says "CAI section Tivoli - Mafiosi!" - more
blasphemous tree signs (who would've thought that was
even a concept) are at the end of the post.

 

This says "Path of the Partisans" and points a different
direction from the trail.  What's the politics here?
Still on Monte Gennaro.

On a recent hike on some nice mountains behind Tivoli 20 miles outside of Rome, we took an incredibly steep trail down (we had taken it up a few years ago).  It now has been marked with extensive stonework, by a mountain biking group.  How anyone can bike this trail - or run it (we saw a trail runner too) is totally beyond our comprehension.  One can barely keep upright hiking it.

Dianne with a "uomini"

But, this group has moved a lot of stones to put in large markers of stacked stones, what we call 'cairns' and are called "uomini" or "little men" in Italian - these are the largest 'little men' we've seen.  These, by the way, are useful where the white doesn't show up against the limestone. The group also put in some stone circles and other markers that some might argue are not consistent with the wild.  But since one is hiking amidst grazing farm animals, and ex-farm buildings and stone farm walls (as in the cow photo above), this is a different kind of 'wild.'  We haven't yet come down on one side of the debate.

Your guess is as good as ours.  

A couple other words to the wise trekker.  Often the signs have been vandalized.  One can have very clear signs, and then none at all.  If you see a map on a signboard (most of those have been demolished as well - by vandals, not because of feuds), take a picture with your camera or phone. We encountered a young German hiking behind Tivoli and he managed using this technique plus a GPS app.  Of course, even the pictures can be wrong and misleading.  But it's a start.  And, the two of us debate the use of GPS.  It seems like cheating.  One of us (that's me!) likes to haul out the iPhone now and then to see if we're anywhere near where we should be.  The other one (that's Bill) enjoys the pleasure following the anxiety of losing the trail.

The young German knew enough to fill up  his water bottle
at the Tivoli train station (nice 'statue' to symbols of
Tivoli, including the aqueducts).

Classic CAI  trail markers - this is trail #215 in Rome - on Monte Mario.
  These are great, until they disappear.  BTW, the numbers are hours and
 minutes,  not kilometers or miles (yep, we made that mistake once - 
believe me, 2 hours is a lot longer than 2 kilometers!).  And who
knows what sign was once in those pieces of metal now framing nothing.

These pleasures and anxieties can be found in the parks and hills within Rome as well. Monte Mario, which is the most significant 'mountain' IN Rome, is a great hiking spot, with lots of trails, totally confusing markings, and everything from waist-high weeds to great views (of St. Peter's, of the Tiber, of all of Rome).  We've written about it before, and we suggested a hike up it in our first guidebook, "Rome The Second Time."  Since we published that itinerary, the 'mountain' or park has had trails added, and markers added and deleted.  If you don't mind being a little lost at times, go for it.

We found this map on a signboard on Monte Mario.  It has its
defects - no numbered trails.  Where we came in and out
isn't even on the map, but it gave us some sense of where
we were.

 The last time we were on Monte Mario we encountered 4 English-speaking 'pilgrims,' who were walking the via Francigena, St. Frances's walk.  They had 100 miles under their hiking belts, from Orvieto north of Rome, and were within a couple hours of their destination - St. Peter's.  They were doing it all with some "turn left here, turn right" typed directions.  Impressive!  We, of course, told them where to find the best bar with a view in the next 30 minutes of their walk.  The pilgrims seemed happy to get that information.

We've said it before, but it bears repeating, "buon trekking."  Dianne

"CAI section Tivoli - Shits!"

"CAI section Tivoli - Bastards!"

For the flower lovers among you

This post is for the flower lovers among us. We waded through fields of wildflowers in Rome’s Decima-Malafede Reserve, just south of Rome (and of us).

Instead of pouring through our wildflower books, we offer these photos for you to identify. We know the scotch broom (for those, like me, who are highly allergic to it), daisies and poppies.

But we don’t know much more. Like the narrator in Antsie Baird’s poem, “The Rose and the Common Flower”, we’re pretty ignorant on this turf.


We include Dianne’s hand (sorry about the thumb splint) to give a sense of flower size and some leaves for clues. We do more on our day with the Romans on their day off (June 2) in Decima-Malafede in another post.

In addition to the wildflower "group photo" at the top, there are 12 other photos with flowers to i.d.; we don't think there are duplicates.


Meanwhile, over to Liz L, Mary Lee S, Judy D, Alison F… and others, we’re sure.

Dianne

Trekking Italian style

On Saturday (after a good rest at B&B dei Mori) we had a spectacular 4.5 hour hike with 360 degree views as far as one could see - into the Abruzzi, the Gran Sasso, Southern Tuscany, mountains all around and the Roman plain stretching to the sea (photo in prior post).

The hike, one we had avoided in the past because it's a bit tough for us to get to the trailhead and back via scooter in one day, is a loop ("anello" or ring, to Italians). It is classic for central Italy - almost no other hikers, farm animals even to the top of the mountain (horses, cows - the latter love to park themselves on the trails--the only flat spots around; the former tend to run away), cool, interesting oak woods and treeless ridges.

Unlike the previous day's excursion, the trail was well marked and we never got lost--tho' some forks were tricky. see the typical signage in photos - cow on trail in the background. The photo below is of a "uomini" or "men" - what we call "cairns" - marking the trail. Photo below right shows typical signage - vandals routineless tear down all maps, leaving blank boards).

There was a touching monument to a plane that went down on Christmas Day 1960 + we saw part of the plane many feet down the mountain (photos below).

This mountain, Pellecchia and its sister peak, Pizzo di Pellechia are known as home to eagles. We saw hundreds of birds enjoying the updrafts, but none were eagles.

We hike using a couple decent Italian guidebooks and maps, cursing them regularly as we walk for their inadequacies (they don't match the Adirondack guidebooks for detail). Pellechia is about 4,500' above sea level (qualifying as a 46R in the Adirondacks), the highest in the Lucreteli range (the closest major range to Rome), and the hike has about 2,000' net elevation. If anyone wants the description of this hike translated, drop us an email.

If it weren't for the predicted rain (which, it turns out, really didn't materialize), we would have spent another day in the Sabina mountains, an area we enjoy, with its hill towns, rolling hills planted with olive trees (Sabine olive oil is prized), and great Lucretili mountains. As it was, we had our ritual post-hike beer in Moricone on Saturday afternoon (photo right) and headed back to Rome on the busy via Salaria (over the route of a Roman counsel road - 2,000 years old - the "salt" road)--the trip that took us almost 2 hours going out with all the Romans took only 40 minutes coming back to a (nearly) empty Rome.
Dianne

Lessons learned: how not to find a place to sleep in the small towns of Italy

At Rome the Second Time we think of ourselves as reasonably knowledgeable about Italy. We rarely make a hotel reservation and come into smallish towns simply asking or looking for signs.

We had never failed to find an acceptable place to rest our heads. We've told friends to do the same - just go into a town and look around. But we learned a hard lesson this past weekend, when, after scootering out of Rome 25 miles and hiking for a couple hours, we almost ended up sleeping in the fields. [A second post describes the major hike we took and has some suggestions on trekking in the mountain range that is Italy - photo right from top of the mountain - why we do all this!]




On Friday afternoon after a hazardous almost 2 hours on the road (we made the mistake of leaving Rome along with all the Romans for the long weekend), we scootered into a small town nestled at the base of the Lucretili mountain range. We picked the town of Moricone so we could do a short (since we didn't get out of Rome until 2:30 p.m.) hike starting just outside the town. Our elaborate planning led us to assume we would stay overnight in Moricone, because it also would be the jumping off point for Saturday's longer hike.


We had seen two B&B signs as we came into Moricone, and when we came off the trail Friday about 6 p.m., we located the first of them, where a young woman of about twenty telephoned her father, then returned to tell us that no room was available (why, we're not sure - didn't want to bother? did we look scuzzy, coming off the hike, showing up with helmets? clearly they weren't full). The other B&B was temporarily closed (a friendly townie led us to the proprietor who was in obvious mid-reconstruction).

What to do? We scootered 8 miles or so to a larger and more well-known town, Palombara Sabina, a classic hill town with fortress, etc., where we fully expected to find a hotel. Palombara S was full of people, but had no hotel, no B&B (we talked to a knowledgeable young mother in the town square). Bill was understandably about ready to collapse from having started in Rome, and then driving these spaghetti mountain roads on the scooter.


My only solution (short of going all the way back to Rome - or lying in a field) was to head to a town another 12 miles out of our way (into the blinding, setting sun for poor Bill) and start calling a list of B&B phone #s I had pulled off the Internet when we thought we might head into the area (the Sabina mountains) for an art exhibit. [And this version leaves out a couple more towns we tried - one with thermal baths where we assumed there had to be a hotel. Insult to injury: just past the 6 miles of blinding sun was a billboard (!) that said there was a B&B 6 miles "indietro" (back) in a town that wasn't even on our map - we weren't about to risk that and fail.]


We finally got to Passo Corese, a town on my Internet list, a crossroads, but found NO signs for hotels or B&Bs. The solution? Stop at a bar, order a beer, and then start calling. The first place on the list was "B&B dei Mori," and a lively voice answered the cell phone. He seemed glad to help us, tho' he said he would call us back (did we trust that? should we wait or call down the list? would the phone battery hold up?), then he did and said (after asking were we at the train station or in a car... well, no, we answered, we're on a scooter) he would come and pick us up, he was 5 minutes away (Bill - but we just ordered a beer!).


In about 10 minutes (beer glasses emptied), a lively man jumped out of his car and spotted us Americani in an instant. We followed Marco on our scooter as he drove us up and through and out of the town (Bill, I asked from the back of the scooter - where are we going now??) to a rectangular housing block with bar, restaurant, etc. on the bottom floor ("suburban" Passo Corese?) (photo at left). We were led up to "Pensione dei Mori" also known as "B&B dei Mori," where Marco showed us the price on the door (Euro 60 (about $84) for a double room with private bath), told us no breakfast was included (I guess it's just a B), and asked us if we wanted to eat dinner in his little "sporting club" that was off the same hallway - "it's a family business," he said (his business card reads "Bed & Breakfast Pensione Club" - it's certainly all that).


For us, Marco, full of smiles and joy and practicing his few English words with obvious pleasure, was now something approaching a savior... an hour earlier we were exhausted, had no place to sleep and wondered what would become of us - would we simply have to drive back to Rome, not having found a bed or dinner--not even the mountain, as it turned out--and did Bill have the stamina left to do it? Now we had a bed (a bit spartan for Euro 60, but clean and serviceable) AND a meal in an authentic Italian "club" (photo left) where we were joined by 8 or so men who ate mostly at a common table. The tv blasted from the wall, and we were deliriously happy - good food, fresh and cooked for us - Marco clearly aims to please - plentiful wine, and even double Limoncello to end the evening. The charge for the meal (we shared most of the courses, having seen they were large), which we found out only the next day when we paid our bill, was Euro 30 ($42) --not a steal, but not bad.


The next morning, Marco was gone. We have a feeling he does a bit of everything. So we don't have a picture of him, but we give you here a couple of our pensione and eatery. Marco's email is famsgavicchia@hotmail.it and the cell phone # we used is 339.118.4255 - if you want real Italy.

Lessons learned: Italy's small towns, even if the most picturesque and ideal for tourism, aren't really ready for tourists. These areas, highly rural, but dotted with towns, lack the standard small motels/hotels of the U.S. - they don't leave the light on for you. Restaurants, yes, because the Romans like to go out on a Sunday to eat in the countryside. Bars, yes, because the locals won't go far without one. But hotels, no. You can see where there once were many, but now travel is so easy (for those with a car and highways, vs us with scooters or people on trains and buses) that there are no hotels in the more remote (not THAT remote!) areas. B&Bs and agritourism are filling some of the void, but they don't advertise everywhere. We don't like pinning ourselves down with reservations, unless we have to, but from now on we'll do some Internet searching ahead of time and come with a list of places and phone #s (and the phone charger) in a ring of small towns around our target.

Dianne