GO WALK:With the Adriatic Sea before him and Croatia away in the distance, author MICHAEL FEWERfeels the world is at his feet
IN THE HEART of the Italian Apennines, a couple of hours by car from Rome lie the Sibillinis, the most scenic part of that long mountain range. Seeking good Italian food, fine townscapes and plenty of hillwalking that was not over energetic, we based ourselves in Amandola, a small town in the foothills, in the Hotel Paradiso. It was a quiet family-run hotel and there were no printed menus for the evening meal. This is always a good sign: our host verbally listed the mouth-watering menu at the table, with details of the ingredients and how each course was prepared. The nearby historic towns of Fermo and Ascoli di Piceni would provide for our cultural rations and for walking, we could take our pick of the local summits surrounding the town that we could see from our balconies.
The Sibillinis provided us with lots of interesting and a few energetic hikes, all great for our appetites for evening meals, but on days in between, we drove east to visit Fermo and Ascoli. What a pleasant surprise they were: relatively ordinary Italian towns, if there is any such thing, but like the great cities of that ancient land, their meandering classical streets are also steeped in history and culture. We were hugely impressed by Fermo’s architecture and organic layout, and its quietness, wandering labyrinths of cool, narrow streets of warm honey-coloured facades with parts belonging to many centuries: other than ourselves, there was not a tourist to be seen.
We found a 12th-century church that was a model of recycling: its elaborately carved doorway was made from fragments of a Roman temple built a thousand years before. Everywhere, arches and windows belonging to much older buildings were unselfconsciously retained in masonry, clearly out of respect for what had been there before. When we made enquiries about where we would find a good restaurant, we were lucky to find a local woman who said she had greatly enjoyed a visit to Ireland last year. She not only recommended a restaurant in the almost deserted and beautiful Piazza del Populo, but brought us to it, discussed the menu with the manager, and made sure we got the speciality of the house. In short order, our table was covered with platters of meats, prosciutto, cheeses, deep-fried mushrooms and olives and carafes of chilled Verdicchio wine.
Ascoli Picena, a little busier than Fermo, has had a troubled past, being conquered by the Romans, ravaged by the Goths and the Lombards and ruled by the Franks, all before suffering a very unstable medieval period. Somehow, however, these travails have resulted in a town of fine classical streets and squares that are a joy to wander. Famed San Gimignano in Tuscany is well-known for its 14 towers: Ascoli, however, modestly boasts 50 remaining towers of what were once 200!
After an exploration of the town the best place to relax and watch the world go by is the Caffe Meletti, a famous establishment that hasn’t changed much in a century. There we ordered mouth-watering pastries and expressos, and sat at the side of the Piazza Populo in the midst of groups of happily lunching Italian families.
We spent the rest of our week exploring the hills, and perhaps the finest hill walk we enjoyed was on Monte Sibilla, after which the Monti Sibillini range is named. A dramatic narrow summit at the end of a long undulating knife-edge ridge, unlike most Irish mountains, the grass underfoot was ablaze with wildflowers the whole way. Although the top is at 2,173m, our starting point was at a refugio at 1,540m, so the actual ascent was much the same as an average Irish mountain. The surroundings, however, were spectacular. On one side of the narrow ridge the land fell away abruptly into the sinuously meandering gorge of Gola dell’Infernaccio, the Gorge of Hell, while on the other a valley led deep into the range, leading the eye to rocky snow-capped Monte Vettore, at 2476m the highest in the range. We had attempted to climb it a few days before but had been driven back by freezing fog and wind. On Monte Sibilla the weather could not have been more different. We climbed gently through waves of heady wildflower perfumes wafted by balmy breezes, pausing only to make a short detour to inspect what remained of the grotto of Sibyl, after whom the mountain is named, and who is described variously as “an ancient prophetess” or “a seductress in league with the devil”. Then, onwards and upwards, we reached the summit after a short rocky scramble. The world seemed laid out at our feet, the Apennines to our back and the Adriatic Sea before us, with the uplands of Croatia forming the horizon.
With a few thrilling, vertigo-inducing sections of path to be negotiated, the descent was more exciting than the ascent, but it didn’t take long and we were soon back in the hotel with excellent appetites for locally-grown lentil dishes, a fresh-made fettucini con fungi and a couple of glasses of Rosso Conero.
A week was not enough to take in that particular little corner of off-the-beaten-track Italy, and I’m beginning to think a lifetime wouldn’t suffice, either.
Get there, stay there
STAY We paid €55 per night for bed and breakfast and evening meal with excellent local wine in the Hotel Paradiso, Amandola (hparadiso@inwind.it). A VW Passat stationwagon was €180 each for four of us. For the Sibillinis, see sibillini.net. Aer Lingus and Ryanair fly to Rome.