Paths, nature and the mountains of Southern Lazio

 

 

There is no better way to understand Southern Lazio than on foot. Roads carry travellers from one village to another, but walking reveals the landscape that connects them: forests climbing the mountainsides, paths crossing high pastures, streams running through narrow gorges and old tracks that have linked communities for centuries.

Walking also changes what we notice. The vegetation alters with altitude and exposure. Water emerges unexpectedly from the limestone. A village that appeared quite close on the map may remain hidden for an hour before coming into view above the trees.

 

The mountains cease to be scenery between places.

 

They become places in their own right.

 

Southern Lazio is exceptionally well suited to walking. Its protected landscapes extend from the Abruzzo, Lazio and Molise National Park and the remote ridges of the Mainarde to the forests of the Simbruini, the limestone peaks of the Ernici and the Aurunci Mountains overlooking the Tyrrhenian coast. Together, they contain hundreds of kilometres of paths through landscapes that differ much more than a glance at the map might suggest.

 

Many routes are marked and maintained by the Club Alpino Italiano, or CAI, whose red-and-white signs become reassuringly familiar after a few days in the mountains. Long-distance routes such as the Cammino di San Benedetto, the Cammino Naturale dei Parchi and the Via dei Lupi make use of paths that were travelled long before recreational walking became popular.

 

Others are shorter: a morning through a beech forest, a climb to a mountain sanctuary, a path following the course of a river or a circuit across high limestone grassland. A walker does not need to cross the Apennines to begin understanding them.

 

But it helps to know what one is looking at.

 

A landscape shaped by water

 

Much of Southern Lazio is formed from limestone deposited beneath the ancient Tethys Sea more than 150 million years ago. As the African and Eurasian tectonic plates converged, those former seabeds were folded and pushed upwards during the geological processes that created the Apennines.

 

Standing on a mountain ridge, it is strange to think that the rock beneath one’s boots began at the bottom of a sea.

 

Rain has been working on that limestone ever since. The rock dissolves slowly when exposed to mildly acidic rainwater, producing what geologists call a karst landscape. The name comes from the Karst plateau between Italy and Slovenia, but is now used for landscapes in which water performs much of its work underground.

 

Small cracks gradually widen into fissures, caves and passages through which water can travel considerable distances. Once this is understood, many of the features encountered during a walk begin to make sense. Streams disappear into the ground and emerge elsewhere as clear springs. Rivers cut through narrow gorges, caves open in hillsides and waterfalls appear where the surrounding countryside can look surprisingly dry.

 

The exposed rock records the same process. Its surface is frequently covered with grooves, channels and hollows created by water dissolving the limestone grain by grain. Larger grooves are known as lapiez, smaller patterns as karren, although most walkers notice them long before learning their names.

 

On the higher mountains, entire surfaces are divided into irregular blocks separated by deep fissures. They can be beautiful, but they require care. Some gaps are considerably deeper than they appear, and limestone polished by generations of feet becomes remarkably slippery when wet.

 

The water eventually reappears. It feeds the rivers, springs and waterfalls that give parts of Southern Lazio their unexpected freshness. The Liri, Melfa, Fibreno and Aniene all owe something to the limestone mountains around them. What looks like a dry mass of rock is also an enormous natural reservoir.

 

That geology helps determine what grows above it. Limestone soils are often thin and well drained, while differences in altitude, exposure and moisture produce very different plant communities. A walk through the Aurunci can therefore feel quite unlike one through the Simbruini or Mainarde.

 

Southern Lazio is not one landscape.

 

Learning to see

 

On the lower and warmer slopes, particularly in the Aurunci and Ausoni, the vegetation has a Mediterranean character. Holm oak grows alongside flowering ash, downy oak and hornbeam. Strawberry trees, juniper and broom occupy rocky ground and woodland margins. On exposed slopes, aromatic plants release their scent in the heat, especially when brushed by a passing walker.

 

Spring and early summer bring the greatest variety. Orchids appear in grassland, open woodland and among the limestone rocks, many of them small enough to be overlooked. The Aurunci Mountains support more than fifty recorded species. Some have popular names inspired by their shapes: the naked man orchid, the dancing-girl orchid and bee orchids whose flowers imitate insects.

 

On parts of Monte Fammera and in the Valle del Rio Polleca, valerian colours the grey rock pink. In June, the rocky slopes of Monte Forte and Monte Strampaduro carry the scents of sage and helichrysum. Butterflies move between the flowers, while solitary bees, beetles and grasshoppers occupy a world taking place largely below the walker’s knees.

 

Further inland and higher up, the vegetation changes. Oak, maple and hornbeam gradually give way to European beech, which becomes dominant at around a thousand metres. The pale, smooth trunks create some of the most characteristic woodlands of the central Apennines, particularly in the Simbruini, Mainarde and the Abruzzo, Lazio and Molise National Park.

 

The character of a beech forest varies throughout the year. Before the canopy closes in spring, sunlight reaches the ground and allows violets, primroses, anemones and other woodland flowers to bloom. The Simbruini are also home to gentians, wild lilies, orchids and alpine germander.

 

By summer, the leaves form a dense green roof. The temperature beneath it can be noticeably cooler than on the exposed slopes outside, and the forest floor becomes darker and quieter. Autumn turns the canopy copper and gold before the leaves fall and accumulate in a thick layer across the ground.

 

That fallen timber and leaf litter are not signs of neglect. They support fungi and insects, return nutrients to the soil and provide food and shelter for birds, bats and other animals. A woodland in which every dead branch had been tidied away would be a considerably poorer place.

 

Much of what matters here is easily missed.

 

After rain, fungi emerge through the leaves and from fallen wood. Some form familiar caps; others grow like shelves from old trunks or appear as delicate structures that survive for only a few days. They perform much of the forest’s less glamorous work, breaking down dead material and returning it to the soil.

 

Other fungi remain underground.

 

Truffles grow in association with the roots of particular trees, including oak, holm oak, beech and hazel. Southern Lazio produces several varieties, among them the summer truffle, winter black truffle, bianchetto and prized black truffle. Campoli Appennino, on the edge of the Abruzzo, Lazio and Molise National Park, has become particularly associated with both black and white truffles.

 

Nothing on the surface necessarily reveals that one is growing below. Finding it requires a trained dog and a person who understands the trees, soil, season and scent. Families in and around Campoli have passed this knowledge between generations, along with the locations of productive ground.

 

They do not tend to advertise those locations.

 

Truffle hunting is also regulated. Collectors require the appropriate authorisation, searches must be made with trained dogs and the ground has to be disturbed carefully and closed again afterwards. The rules are intended to protect a resource that depends on an intricate relationship between fungus, tree, soil and climate.

 

Wild mushrooms require equal caution. Similar-looking species can have very different consequences, and collecting may be restricted in protected areas. Someone who can identify a mushroom in a photograph is not necessarily someone who should eat it.

 

This is one of several reasons local knowledge matters.

 

The large mammals of the Apennines receive most of the attention, but walkers are much more likely to hear a bird, notice an insect or find the traces of an animal than encounter a wolf or bear.

 

Woodpeckers hammer against trunks, jays move noisily through the trees and ravens pass above the ridges with deep, carrying calls. Buzzards are frequently seen circling over open country. Golden eagles inhabit the more remote mountain ranges, although identifying a distant bird of prey is not always as straightforward as optimism suggests.

 

Beside fast-flowing water, an observant walker may see a dipper standing on a stone before plunging into the current in search of aquatic insects. Grey wagtails move along stream edges, their long tails constantly in motion. Around springs, pools and damp ground live dragonflies, newts, toads and salamanders, including the spectacled salamander found in parts of the central and southern Apennines.

 

Some of the older forests support species that depend on mature trees and decaying wood. Among them is the rare Rosalia longicorn, a striking blue-grey beetle with dark markings and exceptionally long antennae. The white-backed woodpecker also requires old woodland with sufficient dead timber in which to find insects.

 

The celebrated mammals are present, although most have a well-developed interest in avoiding people. Wolves range widely through the central Apennines, but their footprints or droppings are far more likely to be seen than the animals themselves.

 

The Marsican brown bear is rarer still. It survives mainly within and around the Abruzzo, Lazio and Molise National Park, where connected forests and relatively undisturbed valleys are essential to its future. The Valle di Comino lies along the western edge of this territory, but seeing a bear remains an exceptional event and should never be treated as an expected part of a walk.

 

Red deer and roe deer are more readily encountered, particularly near woodland edges early or late in the day. Wild boar usually announce their presence by turning over patches of earth in search of roots, bulbs and insects.

 

Higher on the rocky slopes of the Mainarde and the mountains of the national park lives the Apennine chamois, found nowhere else in the world. Once close to extinction, it has recovered through careful protection and can again be watched crossing terrain that appears almost impossible to negotiate.

 

Anyone hoping to see wildlife benefits from moving quietly, looking carefully and having realistic expectations. A forest is not empty because its animals have chosen not to present themselves.

 

The signs are often the encounter.

 

Knowing the mountains

 

The landscape has been shaped by people and livestock as well as geology and wildlife. For centuries, forests supplied timber, charcoal and firewood, while mountain grasslands provided summer grazing. Shepherds moved sheep and cattle between lower winter pastures and the high ground according to the seasons, a practice known as transhumance.

 

This movement helped keep pastures open and maintained routes between villages, markets and grazing grounds. Other paths led to monasteries, sanctuaries, springs and cultivated land. The tracks now followed for pleasure were often created for practical reasons by people whose livelihoods and everyday affairs required them to cross the mountains.

 

Some remain broad and clearly defined; others have narrowed or almost disappeared into the vegetation. A painted CAI waymark or a line on a hiking application can make a route appear straightforward, but the mountains have not signed an agreement to remain as they were when the route was uploaded.

 

Conditions change. A path that is easy in dry weather may become slippery after rain. Streams rise, fallen trees obstruct trails, summer heat makes exposed limestone exhausting and snow can remain on higher ground when the valleys below are already in spring.

 

Distance alone is not a reliable measure of difficulty. A short walk may include loose rock, steep slopes or a considerable change in altitude, while a longer forest track can present few technical problems. Published walking times cannot account for age, fitness, weather or the temptation to stop every few minutes because someone has finally begun noticing the orchids.

 

Walking restores a sense of distance that travelling by car removes. A monastery glimpsed from the valley becomes a destination reached through forest. A spring beside an old path stops being a picturesque detail once one understands how important its position must have been to generations crossing the same ground.

 

The landscape begins to explain why villages stand where they do, why monasteries appeared in apparently remote valleys and why old tracks pass through mountain gaps that today seem to lead nowhere.

 

Knowing where to walk, however, is only part of understanding the mountains.

 

Not every walk requires a guide. Southern Lazio has many marked routes that can be followed independently by walkers with suitable experience, equipment and preparation. Conditions should be checked, maps carried and the proposed route matched honestly to the abilities of everyone involved.

 

For visitors unfamiliar with the Apennines, however, a day with a qualified local hiking guide can be money well spent. A good guide can recommend routes suited to the season and the fitness of the walkers, point out difficult passages and judge when weather or trail conditions make a particular choice unwise. That experience matters in mountains where mobile reception is unreliable and an apparently modest path may lead into remote country surprisingly quickly.

 

A guide can also bring the landscape into clearer focus: identifying plants and birds, interpreting the tracks of wild animals, explaining the geology beneath the path or describing how woodland, pasture and mountain springs have shaped local life. These details are easily overlooked when attention is fixed on following the route.

 

Without that knowledge, a walk may still be beautiful. With it, the same walk can offer a deeper understanding of the landscape and the long relationship between people and the mountains.

 

Travelling by car makes the towns and villages of Southern Lazio accessible. Walking reveals what lies between them: the limestone that holds and releases the water, the changing forests, the open pastures and the old paths along which people once moved through this country.

 

That may be walking’s greatest gift.