To Radicofani - Jan 26

Snow, real Snow!

Snow greets us this morning in Abbadia.

We wake up to snow falling, not a lot, but snow. It is the first of the walk. Breakfast is cappuccino and biscotti, plain but adequate. We are early out, walking in the already melting snow.

Last night we began discussing that we still wanted to go to Radicofani. Something drew Petra there and I was rather intrigued at the thought of a town on the top of an extinct volcano. So as we start this morning we do not know where we will end up tonight. The first part, down 300 meters is the same whether we are going to Radicofani or on to Acquapendente. We'll decide at the bottom.

The air is clear though light smoke or smog obscures details in the valley to the south. We walk down and down, back and forth on a lightly used paved roadway. Radicofani stands clearly and proudly a point on the mountain on the opposite side of the valley. Should we add the extra day to go there. It looks like there is a tower on the top with houses clumped around it.

Radicofani across the valley as we begin to descend.

As we get near the bottom it begins to rain. SS2, Via Cassia, a busy highway would be our path through the valley to Acquapendente. The rain is very light but the passing trucks still spray a little. We go into a dark bar and have a couple cappuccini. When we come out the rain is heavier. We decide not to endure the highway. We will go to Radicofani. A kilometer down the highway we turn up the side road leading to it.

Sometimes in life you also choose to go sideways in order to avoid a difficult way or just to see something you would otherwise miss. In this case both reasons play a part. As we wind our way up, the rain slowly changes to snow. First only spitting ice, then we can see flakes mixed with the snow. As we get higher, more snow falls until finally it is all snow.

And then it snowed.

By the time we are near the top, 1000 feet (300 meters) above the valley floor, three inches (8 centimeters) are on the ground and I have to shake off the excess from my umbrella every hundred yards. I follow Petra's footprints as I tilt the umbrella into the wind coming head on. We trudge up another kilometer or so into the narrow streets of the town circling the top of the volcano.

Petra notices a restaurant up a covered side street and we decide that one o'clock is time for dinner. We deposit our backpacks and sticks on a chair at an outside table under the roof and go into a warm room. We begin great meal of lasagna, mixed grill, and wine. We talk of calling the priest, Don Eli, to see about staying in the Parrocchia. The waitress overhears and says, "He is out of town." Petra calls him and he asks to talk to the waitress. They talk. The waitress calls someone else. A call comes back. A couple more calls. No one can find the key to the place. The phone rings several more times. We continue eating. By the time dinner is done, they have lined up a place for us to stay.

We stop for another self portrait as we pass our path for tomorrow morning.

We sit a while in front of an electric heater. Finally someone from the kitchen takes us up a street to a door and rings the bell. A woman leans out of a window and invites us up. Morina has volunteered to entertain us while our room is being prepared. We talk for an hour. She is a widow who has lived in Radicofani all her life, in this house and one across the street, just two houses all her life. Two brothers, a sister, and a nephew live within one block. She tells us Radicofani is in a seismic region and it has been destroyed several times in the past. But since the geo-thermal plants have been installed across the valley there has been little activity. We saw two large plants in the valleys south of Abbadia on the way here.

Morina takes us down for a tour of the church where a discussion ensues between her and a couple others there. It seems the key is here but then they decide that we need another key also to get to the bathrooms and that key is indeed with Don Eli. We leave then and she takes us to the vacation apartment of Enza who has prepared it for us. A wood kitchen stove running full blast heats a cozy kitchen. But the bedroom and bathroom upstairs are cold, quite cold. Not to fear, Enza relates, I have just the thing to warm the bed. She pulls out a wooden frame with a metal bucket hanging in the middle of it. She takes the bucket to the kitchen and fills it with hot wood coals and covers them with ashes. Back in the bedroom she puts the frame under the covers, hangs the bucket in the middle, and puts the covers over it all. "By the time you go to bed the bed will be warm." My thoughts are of carbon monoxide more than of fire.

Our bed heater. It works.

We spend the evening in the kitchen. At bedtime we clean up quickly in the cold bathroom and crawl into a cozy warm bed. We sleep well though getting up to go to the toilet in the middle of the night is not a joy. Enza's place is unique on this walk. Thanks, Enza.

Abbadia S. Salvatore 25 Jan Contents Acquapendente 27 Jan