Getting Lost (and Found) in Italy

An Adventure Exploring the Umbrian Hills

Another Umbria (painting by Janet Strayer)

Today was a good day for a hike. After a series of thunderstorms and much overcast weather, today's sunshine encouraged my decision to explore the hills around our Umbrian homestead. I was on my own, and my  destination was a hike to the chestnut grove across the ravine into the deeper part of the forest. A good and then a very bad idea. It's not hard to find the right path if you know the way. But then, nothing is hard -- if you know the way. 

I had been given good directions from a visiting neighbour who'd already explored  the area. Being a student of ecological history, he told me that these chestnut groves in Italy were at least several centuries old, having been planted by ancient communities to forestall famines in other foods.  The chestnuts are still harvested today. 

The Chestnut Grove

Do you know how enchanting is to come upon a chestnut grove in the middle of a forest? It's a special spot that greets you like an enclosed garden, especially when you don't exactly know where you are.  I The tree branches are magnificently broad and heavy with leaves, while the brown ground is clear and soft.  A lovely spot to explore, so I did. 

After three happy hours exploring, I thought I should head back home. 

After five hours, however, hiking around and around and  in and out of the beautiful chestnut grove, I was officially lost!

I have a talent for getting lost. Like Hansel and Gretel. I should have brought something (more durable than breadcrumbs) to lead me back home. 

Ironically, all the trail signposts I found pointed in different locations but were printed with the same location name! 

My cell phone didn't work in the woods. Besides, whom would I call, given a recent thunderstorm had knocked out landline phone service in my home territory (in which there was also no cell reception).

Officially Lost

I could not reach anyone by phone, but I could take a blurry photo! I had little idea why, if someone eventually found my body here, this photo would matter. But here's my blurry photo of the view outward from where I got lost. I can almost see my house in the leftward distance. But how to get there from here??

So, I searched around the woods, yet again, for another trail.  Then I searched for another. I was turning in circles that lead nowhere. It was getting dark. 

Finally, I decided to continued on one path that lead to an asphalt road. Aha! Better than spending a lone night in the forest when friendly trees can turn into monsters, not to  mention the wandering wild boars. 

I stood by the road, which at least hinted at "civilization" and stuck my thumb out at the first passing car. No luck as the car passed me by. How few cars travelled this rural route? But returning to the forest to look again for the right path home seemed an  even worse idea.. So...

Like fortune's fool, I waited beside the road. I quickly held my hands up prayerfully when I saw a beat-up old car coming from the opposite direction. Yes, it stopped! I sputtered in Italian to explain my situation. The kind driver, named Basilio, said he would drive me home. I learned he was from a neighbouring village, Melezzole. I mentioned that I shopped at  Cesare's hardware store in that very village. He told me he worked for Cesare. And so it went. And so it goes... in Italy.

And Found

I t would have taken another 45 minutes for me to have reached my village on foot had I followed that road. But I didn't know that then, and my feet were already blistered. I hadn't even put on proper hiking shoes, thinking it was just going for a scenic walk. 

I reached home, gulped a liter of water, ate the cold chicken and pesto salad I'd prepared the day before, and thanked my lucky stars. That you, Basilio! Thank you, Italy. Thank you, good fortune.

More Creative Life

You can read and see more about Italy at Creative Life News here. plus other travels and creative adventures by this itinerant artist at Creative Life News here

 @ janetstrayer.com