17 days on the Via Romea Germanica (Part I)
In July 2018, I decided to walk the Via Romea Germanica, an established pilgrimage in Italy. I would follow the old pilgrim's route from Santa Sofia in the province of Forli-Cesena to St. Peter's square in Rome, a journey of 348 km and about 17 days on the road.
The Route
That summer I found myself in Italy working for Educo - an English summer camp program in my capacity as an ESL teacher. This program involved travelling from town to town in Italy and teaching Italian youth English using games, songs and activities. For my third and final week I was working at a camp near Forli; in the province of Forli-Cesena, which is closer to the northern part of the country, in the foothills of the Apennine foothills, near the Adriatic coast.
The idea struck me when I was taking a walk outside my host family's house in the hills near a little town called Meldola. I was moved by the beauty of the mountain sides chequered with verdant fields of pasture, wheat and flowers all courted by clouds of white butterflies flitting gently in the cool breezes passing serenely over the slopes. Seeing all this under the summer sun from a car or train window didn't feel like it was enough for me, I wanted more. Furthermore, I really wanted to burn off some of the weight I’d put on in the previous two weeks - I have a monstrous appetite and Italy was not the best place to bring it.
A typical pastoral scene in central Italy
As someone who has completed the Camino de Santiago from Saint-Jean-Pied de-Port in France to Santiago de Compostela in Spain, I already knew the joy of trekking through Europe; seeing and experiencing the European countryside and its small towns lying in wait for the intrepid traveler, off the frequented paths of regular tourists. My flight out of Rome was on the 6th of August - as I already had my backpack with me - I decided I would trek to Rome from Forli-Cesena.
Some research revealed that the ideal route for me to take was the Via Romea Germanica (the VRG)-an established pilgrimage leading from Stade in Germany all the way to Rome, passing right by where I was staying at the time. I didn't manage to find much information on it in English (I cannot speak Italian): a blog by an Australian man named Paul Granville and an Italian woman named Michele Cicognani, who described the journey stage by stage. But this relatively limited information was enough to learn that the route was marked along its course and that walking to Rome, was in fact, quite a feasible proposition (by my standards). This was all I needed.
A trail marker along the VRG
I had my route. The next concern for me was accommodation along the way. As it turns out starting a trip at the drop of a hat in the middle of summer wasn't the best idea in terms of securing cheap or even available accommodation (who'd have thought that?) Hostels, if even available, were typically 25-30 euros a night (if not more) a price range I didn't consider feasible. I quickly gave up on the idea of staying at hostels along the route as I had done on the Camino de Santiago (where hostels were typically between 5 and 10 euros a night) and opted to bring along a tent. I picked up a two person (one person in reality) tent; a sleeping bag, mattress, and various other odds and ends I thought I might need on the road from a sports store called Decathlon in Faenza, the grandfather and one of the sons of my host family (the Lippis) having kindly driven me there.
My tent
With everything prepared, I set off on a sunny Sunday in July. My host mother, M.Lippi, (who is a singularly wonderful woman) upon hearing of my interest, had taken it upon herself to do her own research about the VRG and discovered that the route between Meldola and Santa Sofia was largely walking down the highway, so she offered to give me a ride to Santa Sofia to help me avoid this. I felt obliged to say yes as my feeling was that Mary, being the eminently thoughtful type, would be anxious if I didn't.
Using the information I had read in Michele's blog I quickly found the route and was on my way. On my first day I walked alone with the plan to travel from Santa Sofia to Bagno di Romagna. I traveled up and down mountain slopes, along ridges, through fields; passed barking dogs, gave curious cows and bleating sheep a very wide and nervous birth and walked under the hot sun. The mountainous countryside was filled with flowers in shades of magenta, yellow, pink and blue and the same squadrons of white butterflies hovered over everything. At one point I found myself in a mute tempest of little white wings - I figured they were mating or having a demonstration. My phone was uselessly, (and perhaps thankfully so) dead in my pocket due to a weak battery and a broken charge cable. Later on my walk I watched as a pair of pheasant meandered down and across a dusty road in the afternoon sun. That night I was lucky enough to find an agriturismo (an agriturismo is essentially a farm or other agricultural location offering lodging to tourists looking to escape the city) on the slopes. 25 euros afforded me a place to pitch my tent; use of the shower, a spiffing vegetarian dinner complete with a half-litre of local red wine, and breakfast. All in all it was a very pleasant deal.
I set up my tent on a grassy, level lawn higher up the side of the mountain slope. There was a food forest patrolled by a family of turkeys and a peacock, a black ram that stared at me from beyond a fence and higher up beyond that a sandy place with the foundations of a sweat lodge marked with the medicine wheel. Below me was the farmhouse and barn and a small enclosed deck with a hammock which I found myself in after a nice shower (already just another animal on a farm). The scent of rosemary wafted from a barn where a young woman was preparing its essential oil. A storm approached as I lay there, I hoped it would pass quickly as I heard the first fat taps on the thin roof above me; giving up on that hope when the pace began to make erratic exponential jumps. Thankfully I’d kept my poncho handy. The house offered showers and shelter, and smooth stone floors…and books. I’d already abused the shower, now it was time to sit and read and pass the time before dinner as the agriturismo was bombarded with water and the hills all around were drenched. I sat and read and contemplated the possibility of dealing with a pile of sopping wet personal effects when I returned to my tent. I read about gardening, about how to turn your yard into a garden with raised beds. It reminded me of time spent on an organic farm as a volunteer. I had learned a lot, but sadly fate and myself had decided that I am no farmer; I would have to go on. After the rain stopped I decided to go back outside and breath in that special air, I watched as a fat stag beetle dragged itself across patio stones, and the friendly young woman, (who turned out was the host’s girlfriend and a fine kind pair they were) told me about the essential oil being prepared in the barn after we’d both looked at and remarked upon the stag beetle, a kind old golden retriever let me rub its belly, I enjoyed a wonderful dinner with my hosts, sampling the local cheese and wine. Upon returning to my tent I found everything dry (to my great relief) I crawled inside and then there was darkness and sleep in the mountains.
Photos by: Nicholas Girardi
