We sit at a long table, chatting with mother and daughter also walking on the Strada, enjoying the sumptuous breakfast consisting of everything the heart desires. This is how a day of hiking must begin, anything else would be a sin to this magnificent day announcing itself on the mountain peaks.
The old house where the inn is located is talking to us. Sometimes with a creak in the old timbers, sometimes a quiet groan. In old houses with a lot of wood built in, the past sometimes announces itself.
A look at the updated map shows that there is quite a detour to deal with today. Forestry work, lasting from August 2022 to May 2023 (!?), has caused the closing of the trail. Okay, we take it easy.
The middle part of the Strada Alta is considered the most pleasant and attractive: hardly any differences in altitude, mostly on natural surface, and the peaks of the Leventina on the right are constant companions. Chapels and churches provide for contemplation and enjoyment of art.
Length 12 km; rise | descent 600 m | 740m; Hiking time 4 hours
Our own data, not entirely surprising given the detour, are quite different: length 14.2 km; rise | descent 1175 m | 1370m; hiking time 8 hours 03 minutes
Long detour
Let's see whether chapels and churches on the path provide reflection and enjoyment of art. I'm a bit skeptical, but let's get surprised. The ways of God are truly unfathomable (as has already been stated elsewhere).
To start (and reflect), let's first turn to the cemetery, a glimpse into a village's history. One recognizes the names, often identical, large families. One reads the dates, the pious sayings for the deceased, greetings to the afterlife.
The village, although very quiet and very deserted, will remain in our memories, but we must move on. The way to Anzonico should not be underestimated, especially the detour might be difficult.
Anyway, so we inevitably and initially without much euphoria descend into the valley, knowing that shortly afterwards it will move up again, back to the original route. The descent is steep, but we don't care because the day is filled with so many good omens (Reflection! Enjoyment of art!) that nothing can shake us.
The path would in fact lead through the wildly romantic Sciresa Gorge, which we miss by the detour, but even so we are confronted by all sorts of similar topographical challenges.
Again and again we have to cross ditches and ravines, cross wooden bridges hanging over almost dry river beds. The flora is now changing, firs and pines are now increasingly mixed with chestnuts. With the prospect of soon enjoying chestnuts in autumn, our mouth is watering just at the thought of it.
We have now in fact reached the end of the mostly alpine forest. From now on we feel like Mediterranean beings, the cold northern blood is getting warmer. I learn from the guidebook that until the middle of the last century the people of Osco used to get their flour from the mill of Calpiogna. After all, a journey of several hours there and back.
Eventually we reach the original route again, panting a bit, and wish the forestry workers, who take quite a lot of time for their clearings, similarly strenuous detours on their next hike.
Cultural enjoyment and reflection (at least a bit)
The guide did not exaggerate - this stage is really one of the most attractive of the whole trail.
And the enjoyment of art (or, depending on the optics, reflection) is not neglected either: in Rossura, as expected, we miss the church of San Lorenzo built on a protruding hill (see below), but a subsequent digital instead of analogue view is quite okay. And apparently the tower of the proud church of Canonico can even be seen from the valley.
Afterwards, we are amazed at what we miss out because of all the hiking. But that's nothing new to us.
But who can blame us: the path through meadows and woods is unbeatable.
My two companions are as always far ahead, while I am as always the eternal laggard. This gives time to enjoy the surroundings. Dry leaves crunch under the feet, a gentle wind caresses the trees, which seem like ancient companions. The trees break the light, casting slivers of shadow on the path.
As on the Gotthard Pass, the question automatically arises as to who has used this path over the past few centuries.
Did people in the past even have eyes for the beauty of the surroundings? Did they also hear the rustling of the trees, the singing of the birds in the bushes? Probably not. Their thoughts were on their hard work, on the faltering walk of the tired mule, on the survival of their families, or perhaps on a well-deserved beer or schnapps in the next village. If the hard-hearted boss would allow it.
In fact, you can't imagine it.
Mountains and shadows and villages
The mountains, the Campo Tencia, the Pizzo Campolungo or the Pizzo Forno cast their shadows down the valley. But the sky is as blue as it should be, a few delicate clouds pass, silently and without greeting.
But again and again the path emerges from the shadow of the forest. Church towers greet from afar, houses, some with heavy granite slabs on the roofs, welcome the hikers. Fountains bubbling, decorated with flowers, we feel at the right place and drink a coffee at the village square.
But the place is empty. One could imagine old women having made themselves comfortable on the bench in front of the sunlit house, exchanging the latest gossip in their wonderful, barely intelligible dialect, giggling hoarsely in their shawls and headscarves and smock aprons, clogs or slippers on their feet.
Maybe they're waiting for something, maybe the mail, but probably just for the time to pass.
That's how you imagine it. But it's not like that anymore.
But the path continues, the shadows become longer, the legs more tired. And once again we enter the silence of the forest, sometimes stumbling down steep steps, a few meters later up again.
It now automatically becomes quieter, focusing on the next stride, the next steps, the next slope. In these last sections, shortly before the destination is reached, one is completely with oneself (and the aching feet and legs). More than seven hours are behind us, but still the path leads through the forest.
Anzonico under the bluest sky
Anzonico is located on the left slope of the Valle Leventina at almost 1000 m. In 1667 an avalanche destroyed parts of the village, including the church. 88 people died. The village was rebuilt at a more secure location. From 1850 Anzonico became increasingly depopulated. Today it has only about 100 inhabitants, various rustici have been converted into vacation homes. At the end of the village the church towers over the valley. The view over the Bassa Leventina and the opposite mountains such as Madom Gröss (2741) or Cima Bianca (2612) is fantastic.
Even the longest and most strenuous stage comes eventually to an end , so today as well. The last few meters on the tar road to the village are strenuous, not even the spotless blue sky can cheer us up. Everything on that evening can be fulfilled in the form of a shower, a few cold beers and a feast in the restaurant.
And that's turning into reality pretty quickly.
Matching song: The Fleshtones - Way Down South
And tomorrow the Strada Alta comes to an end... in Biasca
