Bernadette and I have planned to leave for the waterfall at 7 am. It is an 8 hour hike and we want to be in the forest before it gets too hot. I wait for her wondering if she will come. Last night she was supposed to go to town with us but because of some trouble with one of the volunteers on the farm chose to stay at Le Mogli. I am hopeful but continue to wait. It is close to 8 when the others in the house arise for breakfast and still no Bernadette. I am debating whether to hike over to Le Mogli but am waiting for directions from Antonella for a short cut from there. He does not appear until late and just as he appears so does Bernadette. We have breakfast and Antonella offers to drops up at Via Piana, the sister house that is being renovated. This will cut about 20 minutes off our hike. We decide to wait.
As we ride up in the van with Dasha who will be introduced to renovation work today and Antonella we are given a tip. Antonella tells us we should hitch-hike to Pescosollido. We ask if it is safe and he assures us that it is. We ask how to go about it. Is it still the thumb? He laughs and says that is the old fashioned way. Instead we should stick out our pointer finger. He drops us and we begin walking to Forcella, just up the road. After we have turned the corner in Forcella Bernadette spots a car backing out. Without a second thought she yells we should try it and sticks out her finger. Immediately the little old man stops. His car is a battered and old, yugo style two-door. He has missing teeth and those still in his mouth are stained brown but he has the most friendly smile. We climb in and he begins speaking Italian rapidly. We both try to catch words here and there. On the dashboard lays a prosciutto ham that he is delivering to Pescosollido, this much we understand. He continues to speak constantly pointing to the floormats and shaking his head. I believe he is apologizing for the mess. He is cute and excited to have us along for the ride.
The road to Pescosollido is steep, windy and narrow. We both look at each other and are thankful we didn't walk this piece. It would have been the most dangerous part of our day.
We had planned on stocking up on snacks at the grocery store in Pescosollido but since we hitched we arrived too early. I have trail mix in my bag and assure Bernadette that we will be fine. We part from our ride at the grocery store and thank him, smiling and waving back as he gives us instructions how to continue. We make a promise that for lunch that day in honor of him we will eat prosciutto, hopefully in Pescosollido.
I am impressed by Bernadette as we talk on the way up. She is an amazing Christian woman endeavourer searching for her true path. She is beautiful, scared, intelligent and bold. She is trying to break away from the common mistakes we make as women. God intended we compliment men but instead we often bow to them. We don't understand them and in the modern world the rules are so mixed up that there is no way to clarify. That is one thing I appreciate about the Italian men; they are frank and bold without asking for forgiveness. If they want you, they tell you. But Bernadette and I are both trying to break the patterns we have laid and we set out on this daunting journey together by taking the first few steps to a waterfall that is 1200 meters up in the mountains. If we can climb and conquer this mountain perhaps we can do the same with the mountains we have built in our lives.
We round the corner and find the entrance to Abruzzi National Park.
We take out our hand-drawn map of the trail. Antonella has placed landmarks such as animal troughs, horses which are sometimes there, gates and ruins on our map. There is no sense from the map of distance between things and like Italian time it is long and drawn out. We follow the path which first climbs slowly on a wide road past the fields of horses with gigantic bells around their necks. They walk and eat and all the while their bells clang, clang, clang. We see several broken down villas. I dream of taking one on. There is not one that suits Bernadette, she longs to live in the woods surrounded by enormous trees. I like the villas that are tucked beside the forest with wide pastures stretching in front of them. We venture inside one and inspect the ingenious way things are built. Holes are carefully carved in the stone walls and large timbers are perfectly placed within. The floor of the villa obviously rested on these timbers. Now vines grow over and around them. I snap a few photos. We find the herb garden and I am taken in my the smell of lemon. I pick the herb and run in under my nose again and again. It has a citrus smell with mint mixed in. I decide it must be lemon mint and I stash some in my backpack. We pass under trees with hops-like cones hanging. I pick a leaf and a cone, examine it and try to determine its species. I stash it in my backpack hopeful Antonella can tells us later.
We make it to the car park area after climbing at least an hour. I look at the map and can see the hardest part is coming. I encourage Bernadette to grab a walking stick as we will need it and we set off again. We climb a hill that seems never-ending laden with large white stones. Thankfully the walking sticks come in handy on more than one occasion. Bernadette is surprised that I made her grab one but I explain I always encourage my kids to have one as well. It makes any hike easier. I have been hiking since I was a small child, first with my parents, next with the girl scouts and finally with friends. The boys and I hike every Sunday after church and get a healthy dose of God's creation.
The long hill finally comes to an end and we see a Landcruiser, labeled as park ranger, sitting in the shade at the top. We laugh and hope we will run into a handsome Italian park ranger but it is not meant to be. We find another marker and follow a path along a deep gorge. We cannot see or hear the water yet but are certain it is down there. Across the valley wooded hillsides paint the landscape. Next to us are limestone and granite outcroppings. We go up and down through the forest finally coming to a dangerous crossing full of loose rocks and a sheer steep cliff. One wrong step and the tumble down would be deadly. We use our sticks to brace ourselves and slowly, steadily cross. We are rewarded at the other end by the sound of water, bold and strong, just like Italy, screaming at us. We must be getting close. We continue only taking brief breaks for snacking and water. We are looking for three sets of ruins and finally after several hours of hiking we spot one. We spot the creek/river at the same time. Now we must look for three green doors in the sides of the mountain. The river is our trail and we follow it up listening to the rushing water in the distance. We spot our first door. Literally it is a green door, locked and carved into the mountain. Water spills from beneath it as if it is guarding a spring, maybe the Italian way of keeping the spring clean and protected. We pass two more on the way up after zigzagging the river, climbing large boulders and balancing on small rock ledges pulling ourselves around corners. The water is cold and refreshing on a hot day. One more crossing and we see it spilling over the soft granite cliff above. We are in a granite canyon with deep pools of water carving the way through the middle. The falls are several hundred feet. We have been dared to put our heads in it; only the brave do so. We wade in the water and it is so cold that our legs instantly go numb but our senses are on fire. We don't make it to the waterfall. We turn back and then at once look at each other, "If we are here we should do it." We jump back in the frigid water and run. We dip our heads quickly under the waterfall and bolt out to the nearest rock for relief from the pain in our legs. I am reminded of Danielle and Paul trying to live a time full life, being present and appreciative of every moment.
We take some photos of us with the falls in the background and then find two rocks to lay on and sunbathe. We look at the time. It has taken us 3 1/2 hours to hike to the falls. The way back will not take as long because most is downhill. We take our time at the river. This is the first time we have felt refreshed since on the farm. At the farm the heat is inescapable and sometimes unbearable. Although the water is cold it is just what we have longed for. Italy is a place of extremes. We began our day with warm fresh figs that in your mouth feel like a woman ready to accept her man. In the middle of the day we were hot, sweaty and challenged by a climb high into the mountains. At the waterfall we are wet and cold, so cold we couldn't linger long for fear of hypothermia.
On our way back we relish in the accomplishment; unique and amazing. We have visited a piece of Italy few others experience. We make our way back through the forest, spotting the two ruins we missed on the way in. They are hidden on a hill. Who would build in these high areas and for what purpose? Perhaps shepherds minding their sheep needed shelter in the mountains. It takes us a short while to reach the road that led us into Abruzzi. We check the time and realize we will not have lunch in Pescosollido because it is siesta time. We decide to try to hitch hike again. This time I stick out my finger and a car with three people stops. They have been hiking in Abruzzi as well. We ask for a ride to Via Piano and they oblige. We round a corner and the lady in the front seat excitedly points to the mountain they have climbed that day. We explain we have hiked to Lacerno. Their English is as iffy as our Italian but once again we communicate. In Italy you are rewarded for the effort of attempting to communicate.
They drop us at Via Piano, we thank them and return to the road. We have a small hike back to the farm and then perhaps a walk into town. Along the road we pass more small farms with olive groves, grapevines, fig trees and apricots. The apricots invite us with their deep orange dangling from branches loaded. I ask Bernadette if we should pick some, no one will see it is siesta and we are hungry. She suggests we only gather those that have fallen to the ground. We do so and each hold three. They are warm and they burst with juice as we bite into them. The taste is heaven and we groan from deep inside. The apricot, like the fig this morning has a womanly quality all its own and we are taken away. We are enjoying them so much we fail to notice the workers in front of us restoring a villa. They smile knowingly, one is young and handsome and makes us laugh like little girls. We walk to the farm smiles not departing and arrive just as Maria is headed to town. We need a ride and ask if we can go along. She obliges and I quickly go inside to get the things I will need to pick up the rental car for the next day's outing to the sea.
We ride down the hill to Sora bouncing and jolting as Maria speeds through each corner. She asks to drop us at the beginning of town. We get out and she speeds away. We speculate as to why she didn't drop us elsewhere when she knew where we needed to go. I say she is meeting her boyfriend. We begin walking and send a message to Antonella that we are in town. We ask what we need to do to get the car. It is siesta so we know the response will be slow but it is close to the end so we wait. We walk along the river over the bridge and towards the town square. Once again we are lucky and the gelataria is open. We wander inside and place our orders. Our Italian for ordering gelato is expert by now. I order three scoops; lemon, coconut and melon. Bernadette orders coconut and melon. I take a small spoonful of my three choices in my mouth at once; trifecta! Pure bliss swirls inside my mouth, it is cool, sweet, tart and refreshing. After a long day hiking it is the perfect treat. I share with Bernadette and she agrees. We had hiked for more than 6 hours and this is a small reward. We are hungry though and looking forward to prosciutto. We finish the gelato and head to the bar that is just opening up. The woman at the bar speaks English and tells us the only food we will find right now is pizza or sandwiches. She shows us the sandwich, the most unappealing food I have seen in Italy. They look like imported Wonder bread with Oscar Meyer bologna. We are starving and decide to split one to tide us over. They taste as disgusting as they look, we pay the bill and leave.
Fortune smiles down on us again as we pass a deli. We venture inside and find the prosciutto we have been longing for along with cheese and wheat crackers that look like toast. We order salami, asiago cheese, prosciutto, crackers and look at their selection of wine; all rose.
Antonella sends us a text that tells us to head to Frederico's Pizzeria. We walk heavy-laden with our prize of cheese and meat. It isn't far and we stop in shops along the way picking up things Bernadette needed for her stay on the farm. I finally find underwear and a bra; I have been donning a bathing suit since my clothes were lost. We feel we have had the perfect day and nothing could go wrong. Frederico greets us and we explain why we are there. He points to the bus we will have to take to get to the rental agency which is in the neighboring town. He explains he has already told the fat bus driver, ironic because Frederico is bigger than the driver, where we need to go and he will let us know when to get off. We wait for the bus on the curb and pull out our feast. It is by far the best meal I have had in Italy. The salami is sliced so thin you can see through it, the prosciutto salty and the cheese warm and soft. The hard crackers are a perfect compliment and we make several before the bus is ready to depart.
Off we go. I am nervous and excited about driving in Italy. I know that directions will not be a problem but the lack of stop signs or rules of the road make me nervous. Arriving at the rental agency we find two extremely handsome men and attempt to communicate what it is we need. They are unable to understand us but we persist. Bernadette pulls out her phrase book and we giggle and try to make ourselves understood. We are high from the day and not at our best but I finally snag the phrase book out of Bernadette's hands and find the two phrases, "We are here to rent a car." I show them to the gentlemen and they laugh and leads us to another office. We sit and wait for the man who will help us while handsome men parade in front of us. If I were going to buy a car, this is the place I would buy it from. They find us one man who speaks some English. He also is devilishly handsome, we think it must be a prerequisite for working here until the man who is doing our paperwork shows up. The man who speaks English asks us to talk slowly. We explain we are here to rent a car and that it has already been prearranged by Antonella. They find the paperwork and begin writing things down. I am handed the phone suddenly to talk with a woman who speaks English. She tells me we cannot rent the car because I do not have an international driver's license but that I can get one in town for just $10. Unfortunately by the time I could do so the rental agency would be closed. She also says she had explained this to Antonella. There is one girl in our group of five traveling to the sea that has an international license and she can rent the car tomorrow morning. We are deflated and defeated and then Antonella calls. I ask him why he sent the two of us if he already had this information. He begins making excuses instead of providing an answer. I ask again explaining that he clearly knew which two girls were in town because we not only stated it but the others were there at the farm with him. He begins yelling at me and telling me I should be thanking him for making the arrangements. He continues yelling so I hang up and we leave. This is our first bad experience of the day if you don't count the repulsive sandwich. We walk back to the bus stop and realize the driver had been kind in where he dropped us and we would need to continue down the road to another stop. We ask for directions from a street vendor, we are tired and weary but I understand what she tells us. We cross the bridge and are approached by an English speaking woman trying to find the train station. She needs to catch a train in 30 minutes and we tell her it is too far to walk. She directs us to the tobacco shop that sells bus tickets back to Sora. We each visit the grocery store, Bernadette buys water and I buy wine. It was less than two dollars for a bottle. I am excited that we will be sharing this wine soon. The bus drops us back at Frederico's.
He greets us with a questioning face. We explain what has happened and he is as frustrated as we are. He begins to say, "Antonella needs to mind his business and let me take care of the other stuff. I would have never sent you had I known you didn't have the license." He offers us wine for our troubles and we accept. He pours it out of a plastic bottle, obviously his home grown. It is rich, dark and deep in texture. I enjoy every sip. Bernadette has a difficult time drinking hers and I end up helping her. Frederico calls us a taxi back to the farm. We are too tired for dinner and too tired to walk. The taxi driver shows up and Frederico pours him the same amount of wine we are drinking. He shoots it as if it is Tequila. We explode laughing and pronounce that it will be an exciting ride home. We finish ours after a few minutes say our goodbyes to Frederico and depart up the winding hill in our taxi.
We arrive at the farm while everyone is having dinner. It is a bit awkward as it is obvious Antonella has said something of what has happened. He apologizes and I accept but walk away. He is not satisfied and persists wishing to talk with me away from the table. I agree and he explains that he always has sent Americans to that rental agency and they allow them to rent without the international license. He says it would only be bad if I were to get pulled over. We are back to the farm and will go tomorrow to pick up the car. I am not going to hold a grudge. He asks if I have forgiven him and could we share a kiss. I agree and things are better. Dasha brings her dinner to where Bernadette and I are sitting and asks what had happened. I explain and we talk about going the next day. Bernadette and I are tired and decide to drink some wine back at Le Mogli by the campfire. I will follow the path in the dark back home and the girls from Iceland offer me their headlamp.
We walk through the forest once again, arrive at camp, uncork the bottle and enjoy our new friendship. The fireflies dance around us and it is magical. We don't finish the bottle before we are both exhausted. I head back down the trail letting the moonlight guide me. I only use my light to go under and around the trees. I arrive at the farm late and collapse on my bed.
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