Saint Felician Chapel

A shorter post today. In walking down to the Church of San Damiano, one passes a small chapel dedicated to Saint Felician of Foligno.

Saint Felician was born during the Second Century and preached extensively in the region, to the apparent displeasure of the Roman authorities. He lived to 94, and died after being tortured and while on his way to Rome for execution. Years earlier he planted a cross here when he was expelled by the Romans from Assisi. For a time there was a church, then this chapel. The inside was decorated this past century. I've walked by it many times and never seen it open. However there is a small opening in the entrance door.

Just enough room to take a poorly lit picture of the inside.

Further down the hill is San Damiano.

On this morning a nun was out lighting some votive candles in front of a fresco.

A closer look at the art.

Nearby a statue portrays Francesco enjoying the beauty of God's creations.

Ciao.

Valtopina

Went on a long walk yesterday to Valtopina, a small town off in the distance on the other side of Monte Subasio. It should have been about a 23 mile trek, but a couple of trail misses and fork-in-the-road decisions added a few miles. The first segment followed a country road for about six miles from Assisi to Armenzano. Sometimes even the road signs get interesting.

The message is clear: continue on and large rocks will come tumbling off the mountain, cars will swerve all over the road, and you'll be pelted with heavy rains and then snowed on. Taking my chances, I continued on. Often on rural roads in Italy one also encounters small shrines; many of them are well maintained and quite beautiful.

Armenzano is an old fortress town that I've written about before.

The streets wind upward in a circular pattern, from the outer walls to the high center of town. It's an enjoyable place to stroll through, going around and up then down.

As I was passing by the outskirts, an elderly gentleman came along in what looked like a 70's Fiat, stopped, rolled down his window and asked (I think) in an abrupt but not unfriendly tone, what I was doing. I explained that I was walking from Assisi to Valtopina, which led to a little more discussion and finally him laughing and saying, "Bravo, bravo!"
Ahead was the countryside I would be crossing, eventually down through the valley on the right.

The trail lead down through a steep and very muddy ravine. Crossing the creek at the bottom was not a problem, but slipping and sliding up the other side left me determined to find another route back. Once through it, and looking back, Armenzano was again in view, at least for a while.

For a long stretch the trails and dirt roads lead through lovely pastoral countryside. Passing through the small hamlet of Vallemare every dog in town seemed excited to see me, or excited to see anyone. All the noise brought one fellow out of his house. We had a short friendly conversation and soon I was on my way, glad for a return of quiet. I missed a trail intersection, but the dirt roads lead in the right direction, and less than two hours after leaving Armenzano, Valtopina came into sight.

Valtopina (meaning: the valley crossed by the river Topino) has a history dating back to pre-Roman times, although back then it had a different name. Unfortunately, earthquakes and World War II bombing cost the area some of it's treasures. Nevertheless, it's a pretty town.

This is the interior of the church on the right, rebuilt in 1945, with one 17th Century painting.

Walking along the street I noticed a vaguely familiar sign.

It's a volunteer recruitment poster for the Castle of Poggia, saying that training is being initiated. Another street view.

Starting back, determined to miss that muddy ravine, I headed up a road through a very picturesque valley, with Subasio far off, but very much in sight.

 

For a long while the road ran next to a stream spilling over small falls. With very few vehicles about, it made for nice walking.

Perhaps if I had been paying more attention, I would not have missed a trail marker for a way to continue straight in the direction of Subasio, and then back to Armenzano. Instead, I noticed a "Monte Subasio" arrow for the road ahead, and followed it. The road became windy and steep, which was okay, but when it turned away from both the mountain and Armenzano, it was soon clear this was not the shortest route. Nevertheless, the Spring views just kept getting better.

A mudslide partially blocking the road, and the absence of any traffic for some time, added a bit of trepidation as to where this road might lead.

Finally, it swung back in the right direction and met up with the main country road going around Subasio. Turning again in the direction of Armenzano and Assisi, the views opened up back in the direction of Valtopina, which sits in the barely visible low point in the center of the picture below.

I stopped briefly in the hamlet of San Giovanni, where there's a small old church.

The engraved marker on the front commemorates those from the hamlet who died in the two world wars.

One more view of the region of the morning trail.

Then on to Armenzano and back home to Assisi.

Ciao.





Subasio Mortari

Went out early yesterday to explore three mortari (singular: mortaro) atop Monte Subasio. They are called "mortari" because they are shaped similar to mortar vessels. They are not craters and are perhaps best described as karst sinkholes.
The weather forecast was good, but part way up the mountain all was not clear.

Eventually I entered the clouds, but this time it was warmer and less windy than on a recent high trek.

Shortly after reaching the summit, the clouds cleared.

First came Mortaro delle Trosce, not as obvious as the other two because it sits in a forest, and it can be difficult to see the mortaro through the trees.

In the distance was the summit of Monte Subasio.

Some pretty wildflowers were starting to appear in the high country, this one in the middle of a muddy path.

Next came Mortaro Grande. Approaching from a distance, one can see the trees on the upper part of it on the right.

Here it is closer, shaped like a very, very large mortar vessel

A closer look at the inside, where stone artists have created a message of peace ("pace", pronounced pah-chay, is "peace" in Italian) along with a heart.

The third mortaro, Mortaiolo, is just over a ridge from Mortaro Grande and is quite steep.

Here's a view looking over Mortaiolo and Mortaro Grande.

Atop the above picture is the summit of Mount Civitelle. Since it was so close, I decided to go on up. Once there I found no marker, and only this rock was at the high point.

So, on to the summit.

The hike down was a pleasant trek involving exploring sections of different trails. At one point a horse came bolting around a corner and stopped sharply when he saw me (for which I was appreciative, being on the same path). He immediately became docile, almost shy, turning away and standing quietly.

Saw occasional hikers in the high country, another sign of Spring.
Ciao.

A Walk in Mount Subasio Park - Part 3 of 3

Still following a country road and looking to pick up the trail again, the views of Mount Subasio became more frequent. One could be slightly lost, but not totally lost, as long as the mountain was in sight.

It was at this point that I came across one of those gems one sometimes encounters in rural Umbria. Next to the road was a small chapel dedicated to Saint Leonard of Noblac, also known as Saint Leonard of Limonges, with the location of this particular chapel resulting in it being named San Leonardo Montarelle.

Who was San Leonardo? He was a noble Fifth and Sixth Century Frenchman who converted to Christianity in the year 496. He gave up power and authority, except for a right to free worthy prisoners, which he gained a reputation for doing. He then became a hermit, lived in the forest and founded an abbey. In the Twelfth Century San Leonardo became very popular throughout Western Europe, with at least 177 churches dedicated to him. In Italy alone over 200 places bear his name, including this little chapel.

According to a nearby sign, "Popular tradition decrees that the oil used to light the lamp opposite the altar in the chapel could cure 'bone aches'", and San Leonardo "has been the patron of woodland, prisoners, miners and pregnant women." An interesting combination. An internet check confirmed his patronage also includes captives and horses. Although the chapel seen here is fairly new, there are nearby ruins and documentation of one at this location in the year 1354. Apparently at one point there was a frescoed church. In the front windows of the chapel are some votive candles with images of Padre Pio on them.

I don't want to leave the little chapel of San Leonardo Montarelle without sharing a story. You may assume it fiction, unless it is not. According to a writer at a site near Assisi (Brigolante Guest Apartments), legend has it there once was a farmer named Rufinetto who would pass the San Leonardo chapel each day on his way to town, and would ask San Leonardo for permission to remove one penny from the offerings there for his daily cigar. Interpreting silence as implied consent, Rufinetto would pick up a penny and continue on to town for his cigar. Word got out about the farmer's habit and eventually one of his neighbors decided to hide behind the chapel. When Rufinetto stopped in and politely asked San Leonardo for a penny for his daily cigar, a voice responded with a resounding, "No!" A worried Rufinetto hastened away, concerned at how ornery San Leonardo had become.
Now Assisi came into view, still far away but visible in the distant notch between the mountains.

In a nearby valley I spotted the Satriano chapel, and knew then the trail was close by. At the turnoff I noticed who lived in the farmhouse down the way because of a quaint little sign.

Spring was finally appearing on the fields.

Logs were stacked in a section of forest where the trail converged with a dirt road.

Although Assisi was still over two hours away, the weather was holding up and following a muddy stretch up from Ponte Marchetto, it would be fairly easy going.

Just before descending into the ravine, I was passing a farmhouse and the farmer was outdoors, enjoying the view behind his home. We talked some about my day's hike, and I stated the obvious in telling him how beautiful the surrounding countryside was. He laughed and said, "E tranquilla." Tranquil. Peaceful. And so it was, this walk in Monte Subasio Park.
Ciao.

A Walk in Mount Subasio Park - Part 2 of 3

From Satriano I continued eastward on a trail that became more rugged and more muddy. Just as I retrieved some bread from my day pack for a snack, the path passed immediately beside a pig farm, more specifically the actual pigsties. A photo opportunity missed, the first of several. Further along, I noticed movement along the other side of a fence, and caught a glimpse of a couple of wild boar who ran off quickly. There are plenty of wild boar in this part of Italy, but they are not often seen. However, this day turned out to be an exception.
The trail became muddier, even swampy, with large pools of water and thick, thorny brush along the sides. Just when continuing on became an uncertainty, conditions improved enough to descend down to a country road. The section ahead was well into the eastern part of the park. Soon, high up on a hill, the Rocca di Postignano came into view.

This was a Tenth Century fortress, once dominating the valley beyond, now in ruins. A dirt road wound up the hill, leading to some good views and interesting remains of stone structures.

This was the high point of the fortress; didn't see any entry points. Perhaps that's what was intended.

Looking down on what remains of some of the surrounding structures.

An interesting wall, after many centuries.

After exploring the Rocca and enjoying the views, I started down the fortress road toward the country road to continue on. Just after putting my camera away, I looked up to see, perhaps 40 yards ahead, a couple more wild boar, who noticed me at the same time. They darted off into the woods, but this time were followed by a racing mass of younger boar, medium and small in size. There appeared to be about twenty altogether. I didn't know what to make of it, and only later learned what I had seen was a "sounder". A sounder consists of a small number of sows, led by the eldest, caring for their young in a group. Also learned that when sows are cornered or feel their offspring are threatened, they will attack vigorously, using their teeth as weapons. So, the bad news is no pictures, the good news is no scars from the encounter.
Back on the road I continued in the direction of the town of Postignano. It was in view, and I started down a steep trail toward it.

There was a logging operation underway, and further down the trail was entirely blocked with stacks of logs. Trying to circumvent them by going through the brush was not much of an option, not knowing what additional obstacles might lay ahead in the forest. So, I scrambled back up to the road and began again in an eastward direction, only to find that while the trail had been short and steep, the road to Postignano was very long and winding.
Given the hour, the dark clouds and that this was near the border of Mount Subasio Park, along with a new notion of finding an alternative return route bypassing the muddiest section of trail, I decided to start back in the direction of Assisi. Soon I went past the turnoff for the muddy trail, observing ahead a caution sign for a species of animal even larger than the wild boar.

Undaunted, I continued on, now on a winding road certain to be longer but less hazardous than the trail.
Then I was brought to a halt by sight of a man walking in my direction with three loose dogs. The dogs stopped too, looking in my direction. This was the middle of nowhere, no houses nearby, very much out in the country. The dogs were small, and the largest appeared rather young. The man spoke to them and they started up again. Two seemed interested in just getting past me, while the third, the young one, stopped close by as if very interested in something. The man, walking spryly, appeared in his late 60's or 70. He crossed the road and we engaged in a conversation, managing well enough with my limited Italian and his few words of English. The young dog simply wanted to smell my shoes, which was fine, and he did. A very polite dog to wait for permission. The fellow was interested in my walk and we had a good exchange. In the course of our discussion he shared his actual age, ottantotto (88) years. Wherever his stroll began or ended, this was not someone just taking his dogs around the neighborhood block. Something to be said for vigorous exercise.
Always one to miss a good photo op, I turned around late to just catch a fading picture.

After a long stretch of walking, mostly uphill, Mount Subasio came back in sight in the distance.

Still a long ways to go, and a trail to pick up again.
To be continued...