Once I had a crazy idea that I could hike the entire Via Francigena, a 1794 km medieval pilgrim’s path from Rome to Canterbury England. I quickly realized I was underprepared and overpacked. But each day I found myself in nearly unbelievable situations of good fortune, bountiful deliciousness, and even greater kindness in strangers; thankful for plenty of angels and artichokes on the Via Francigena.
The start of this journey was Rome. Through a mutual friend of a friend who’s sister was a nun, I had been introduced to Sister Eleanor, a nun for over 40 years originally from Missouri, but lives in Ecuador and was currently on her sabbatical in Rome. We met on St. Peter’s square at the Vatican, a truly lovely individual in which I will give credit to her midwest Missouri upbringing. As we walked around a very crowded Vatican getting to know one another and taking in all the beauty amongst the hordes of tourists, she then invited me back to her residence to rest for the night before my journey. She was living in a “visiting convent” three blocks from the Vatican which accommodates Sisters who are in Rome studying, meeting or on sabbatical such as Sister Eleanor. Early in the evening, the other Sisters in the house were congregating in the kitchen to begin dinner preparations. A diverse group of nine women from all over the globe, with some language barriers but all were so warm and hospitable. We shared conversation mostly about food, exploring their spice supply and enjoying a casual stand up meal around the kitchen counter.
A neighboring Sri Lankan family had brought by a potluck feast of Chicken Bysani for the Sisters. A familiar recipe that Sister Vilemna knew well and even shared her recipe with us. The potluck feast also included a delicious rice and leek dish, curried potatoes, sweet chili chicken and homemade papadum. After an evening of wonderful conversation, I retired to a comfortable bed and warm shower.
I awoke early departing from Sr. Eleanor’s unforgettable hospitality and headed back to St. Peters Basilica for my Pilgrims Passport stamp before hitting the ‘trail’. One last look on a peaceful and early Sunday morning with only a few tourists yet inside, it was a very awe-inspiring space one must view for themselves to fully understand.
I had decided to travel by train for the first leg of the journey (Yes, I know already “cheating”, right out of the blocks) but under the advisement of most of the travel guides, the journey from Rome to LaSorta was a bit treacherous almost completely on main highways through the suburbs. But again opportunity presented itself, while on the train I began chatting with the conductor who recommended skipping LaSorta and traveling on to the next stop where a bus could take me over to the next leg of the journey, Campangona Di Roma, a lovely medieval town where the pilgrim’s trail becomes more authentic. However, as the train pulled into the station I discovered NO bus service on Sunday! After a brief and broken conversation with a local pointing out the direction and shaking his head with a chuckle, I began my “hike”. All on country roads, on a slow incline, in the rain, and at about the 8-mile point I realized I was going to have to walk on the motorway for about a mile and a half. Honestly, I did not know if I should be laughing or crying. I sucked it up and did it, arriving at a small shop just off the highway for directions. With no luck of communication with the shop girl and the rain still coming down, I again lucked out as a random customer approached the counter.
Mariella with her adorable four year old daughter Anastasia shared that Campagnano was still a good 3 miles away and if I would wait for a few minutes she would happily come back and drive me into the town’s church where there might be pilgrim accommodations. While waiting, the nice shop gal and i “communicated” a bit more and she ended up sharing her recipe for a local favorite of spicy pasta. Mariella and wide-eyed Anastasia arrived back and loaded me up. She was once a backpacker and understood my trials today, she attended the church and knew they accommodated “pilgrims” such as myself. She spoke of Campagnano di Roma being famous for their carciofo (artichokes) and how every May a big festival is held celebrating this vegetable with a massive grilling of this sumptuous veg that one must arrive early in the morning if you want a taste. Here you can get beautiful purple-hued artichokes 10 for 5€, just heavenly along with all the fresh citrus, strawberries were also in season and cheap and you can get fresh local apples year-round in this region.
Parting with the wonderful Mariella at the church where another neighbor, who asked another neighbor where Fr. Lorenzo might be, and then loading me up again and taking me to the parish hall where some of the parishioners had gathered for his birthday. And as luck would have it again, the friendly and welcoming locals invited me in to join then for the birthday feast that was underway. So began the procession of jovial parish ladies in colorful aprons parading out a fabulous Italian lunch of various pasta, platters of the famous Campagnano artichokes (which are in season from Nov. to May here), zucchini blossoms, and lamb chops all lightly battered and fried. Only to be crowned with a heavenly strawberry & custard cake and bottomless red wine. The meal was full of laughter and the spirit of community was rich and warm, even though I could not understand a word of what they were saying.
The Bishop of the district even made a surprise visit and shared in lunch and celebrating Fr. Lorenzo. what a special moment and a stark contrast to 2 hours earlier when I was rain-soaked, hiking along the side of the highway and wondering what the hell I was doing.
At party’s end my help in clean up was denied but I was handed a huge plate of leftovers and shown across the road to the old four-story catholic school building (now a community center) where parish offers rough accommodations for pilgrims. Unrolling my sleeping bag atop an old table, I took a little nap and then headed out for a walk around the medieval town before attending evening mass. Perhaps not the Ritz, but comfortable enough especially as I awoke to thunder and rain slapping the windows in the wee hours and nodding back off thinking how lucky I was to not have to be tent camping this night.
The next morning I was headed for Sutri, with no idea where the trail actually was and the only directions found was all motorway. After a 2 mile hike out of Campagnona Di Roma, i shamelessly hopped a bus to Sutri.
Two bus rides, free thanks to very friendly or perhaps very relaxed Italian bus drivers, along all main roads 30 minutes later I arrived in Sutri a lovely medieval town atop cliffs reminiscent of the Etruscans (8th-7th century BC) style which is prevalent in this region. The town center featured a pedestrian piazza with ancient fountain, typical narrow winding streets leading to thick walls looking down on beautiful rolling countryside, and a stately church whereupon my arrival to its step a little old lady carrying groceries asked me a question pointing to the church. Neither of us understanding but confirming I was going inside, she laid down her basket against the wall, took me by the hand and led me inside to the front altar, showing me the way to the tombs beneath dating from the 11th century. I was gleeful and thanked her, she parting with a typical Italian double cheeked kiss goodbye. A rather large, very well preserved tomb definitely a little gem, one of many I found in Sutri, from architecture to back-alley views looking off into the neighboring hills. The friendliness of strangers and unexpected memorable moments were just as plentiful in Sutri; from the old woman’s impromptu guide service to the ancient tomb to an old Italian man leaning against the wall and wanting to practice his English with me while sharing his love of his beautiful home town, to the nice shop lady who came out to chat (in Italian mind you) as I sat on a bench sharing my leftover lamb with a cat, to finding a bit of wifi while soaking up some warm Roman sun. These few days were never short of scenic views, ancient sites, or of angels and artichokes on the Via Francigena and definitely on my list to revisit someday.
This trip along a very small portion of the scenic and ancient Via Francigena predated the amazing trail web site and interactive map that is now available, and guide books were non-existent in English so taking a bus with no clue on the whereabouts of the trail, was acceptable in my mind. After an enjoyable day of lost exploration, sun bouncing off the Tuscan hills and friendly strangers, I caught the bus to Viterbo, skipping the next leg of Vetralla recommended by the Sutri shop lady. The 30-minute bus ride to Viterbo brought a completely new landscape to the window. Coming out of tight winding curves laced with cliffside caves to fields of freshly turned rich black soil and endless orchards of almond and olive trees, I arrived in Viterbo still unsure of the Via Fracigena trail or where I was going to sleep that night, but at least I had now mastered how to ask where the catholic church was in Italian.
Walked Miles: 16
