The Way of Saint Francis: Trevi to Poreta

When we first learned we were going to Trevi, we assumed there must be a link between the town and Rome’s famous Trevi Fountain. Did an aqueduct join this well-watered place to the capital? No: the two are about 150 km apart, and there was never such an aqueduct. Instead, the two place names have completely different origins. In ancient times, the people of Umbria used the word trebbia or trevv for a fortified town, which Trevi has been since about the 4^th century BC. As for Rome’s Trevi Fountain, it acquired its name because it’s at the junction of three roads (tre vie). Life is for learning!

The hilltop town of Trevi

Our day in Trevi was quiet but fascinating. As we learned, Trevi has been around since well before the Romans. On our walk through the town, we saw remnants of Roman walls and gates. And further down we found the remains of the more recent mediaeval walls; the two walls making rough concentric circles around the expanding settlement. The whole site is steep and confined, resulting in tight, tiny lanes, and wonderful views over its ubiquitous olive groves into the wider Umbrian countryside. The nearby mountains have forested slopes, and rounded, bare tops, giving them something of a tonsured look, like Saint Francis himself. The sum of all these features makes for a landscape that will live in our memories.

View from Trevi across the Umbrian Valley

Sunburst on a hillside olive grove

During the heat of the day we chose to spend a few hours looking through the very good local museum, which had exhibits on everything from Roman times and St Francis, to the history of olive growing. We learned that, even in a country synonymous with olive oil, the oil produced here is so highly esteemed that Trevi is known as the olive oil capital of Umbria. The calcareous soils of the hillsides all around the town are partly responsible. Although not conventionally rich, these soils are in the Goldilocks zone for the growing of olive trees. 

A painting of Sister Clare in the Trevi Museum

Our final night in Trevi was another mild and clear one. We sat outside at a well-rated restaurant where we had a simple but superb Italian dinner. It was accompanied by lovely local red wine and the oh-so Italian sounds of evening chatter in an ancient piazza.

We left early the next day, hoping to walk as much as possible in the cool of the morning. The blue skies promised that the cool wouldn’t last. As we wound our way around the olive-covered contours, Trevi kept appearing over our right shoulder, doing a Dame Nellie Melba on us. 

Looking back towards Trevi

According to our notes, it looked like being a day of ups and downs, and so it proved. The constants were blue skies and grey/green olive trees. The kilometres ticked over, and the day warmed up. At one point we left the dry farm tracks of the olive groves and began a steep climb on a softer track through shady forest.

Dusty farm track through olives

Climbing through forest

We eventually reached the hillside chapel Chiesa di Sant’Arcangelo. This had a very welcome fountain of fresh water, but unfortunately the door to the inside of the chapel was locked, probably because it was undergoing roof repairs. Still, we were glad to pause for a drink in its shade before climbing further up the road. It wasn’t long before that felt wrong, especially in the growing heat. Our digital map, plus our sense of self-preservation, combined to confirm that continuing to climb wasn’t a good idea.  

Chiesa di Sant’Arcangelo

After looking around for a few minutes, we eventually found a rough, marked track leading down beside the chapel. So down we went, wondering why we’d climbed up the hill in the first place. Our doubts were further compounded when, at the bottom of the slope, we met some (New Zealand) pilgrims heading in the opposite direction. We exchanged information, as pilgrims do, and their map showed them taking a low-level path towards Trevi, avoiding the climb altogether. We walked on, thinking that our uphill/downhill route had only been to take us to a (locked) chapel simply because it had water. We shrugged and repeated an aphorism we’d learned on a previous pilgrimage: it is what it is.

We walked on, until another ascent led to another disappointment. After walking up several hills, we’d finally come to a high point. It was now very hot, and we were relieved to stop. Ahead of us was what appeared to be a castle or fort. Our hopes rose: might this be Poreta? No such luck. It turned out to be Campello Alto, a fascinating 11^th century fortified settlement. But given it was still 4-5km short of our destination, our level of fascination was a little less than it might have been.

Campello Alto … not Poreta

As on our other walk days, the last few kilometres proved the hardest. Another downhill slog on a slippery farm track in hot sun seemed to reprise our first day. A gentle twist was that, even when we reached the small village of Poreta, we spent nearly half an hour looking for our accommodation. We finally rang someone’s doorbell, and a kind woman with enough English to make it clear how bad Google Maps was, told us where we could find our place. And when we arrived, our similarly kind host took one look at us, and produced a cold mineral water. It’s the little things …

Nature is home, even if we live in cities. I’m a writer based in Tasmania, Australia. I love learning and writing about the natural world, from the smallest bugs to the broadest landscapes.
http://twitter.com/#!/auntyscuttle