‘When we see the mountains pouring water like this,’ sighed Ennio Rizzotti, ‘we know it is special rain.’ He gestured elegantly out of the rain-spattered, steamed-up car window at the spectacular waterfalls that were leaping out of every crack and canyon of the Carnic Alps. ‘I called the meteorological office in Udini last night to ask about the weather for today, and their reply was: "Ennio, what do you think?" And I think … we will be a little wet today!’
It had been raining fantastically for 24 hours, and showed no sign of letting up. The Carnic Alps, up in the north-east corner of Italy, were shrouded in thick shawls of mist and rain, every view insubstantial, smoky and dream-like. On higher ground it was turning to snow, as occasional glimpse of whitened peaks confirmed.
Not the ideal day to be setting out for a walk in the mountains, maybe. But there was a perverse, gritted-teeth pleasure in the prospect of experiencing the Carnic Alps in one of their equinoctial bad moods. And with Ennio Rizzotti – mountain guide, rescue leader and Himalayan adventurer – as my companion through the shadowed valleys, I knew I need fear no evil.
The road to Sauris snaked up through countless bends and tunnels. The mountain village had been completely isolated until the road was built after the Second World War to connect it to the outside world. We passed the turquoise-coloured Sauris reservoir, then wriggled through Sauris di Sotto (Lower Sauris). The dark wooden chalet houses sported hay-drying rails on their balconies and stacks of firewood piled for the winter against their walls.
On the edge of Sauris di Sopra (Upper Sauris) Ennio and I pulled on rain gear, snapped open an umbrella apiece and set off up a steep track through woods of beech, larch and pine. Ennio’s sharp eyes were soon zeroing in on edible fungi under the trees. ‘Many Sauris people come to pick them at this season. You should try this one.’ He pointed to an alarming-looking blob of orange jelly in the beech leaf carpet. ‘This is very good – chanterelle. Delicious!’ and he formed an appreciative circle with thumb and forefinger.
I was content to snack on wild raspberries as we climbed on through the dripping woods. We were making for the high pasture belonging to the Malga Pieltinis, one of the seasonal alpine ‘malghi’ or farms whose short summer occupancy produces milk, butter and cheese with a flavour that’s out of this world. The cattle had been up in the pastures since mid-June, Ennio told me, and were now ready to descend for the long winter to their parent villages in the valley below.
‘See these stones?’ Ennio pointed out a chute of pebbles and boulders across which the path threaded its way. ‘Avalanche path. If there comes an avalanche in winter, it will fall down here.’ Looking over the mountain slopes I could see dozens of similar destruction trails smashed by runaway tumbling snow. Ennio, himself twice buried by avalanches, shrugged fatalistically as the rain pinged off his umbrella and pearled in his eyebrows. ‘A little snow, a little rain … but you should expect such events if you go among the mountains, no?’
The path was sloping steeply now, climbing up the forest banks in slippery steps formed by the knotty roots of pine and larch. We passed a flock of lop-eared sheep being marshalled hither and yon by a pair of furiously yapping dogs while their shepherd looked on, a fag wedged in the corner of his mouth. Then the track steepened still further, with glimpses down to the vivid blue-green eye of Sauris reservoir opening in the dark face of the forest two thousand feet below.
The wind strengthened as the path climbed above the tree line, giving the pair of us a rough shove as we came out onto the level ground of the Pieltinis pasture. It was a striking sight – a pair of peaks sprinkled with fresh snow rising over an undulating green plain, on the far side of which the high pasture farm lay streaming smoke from its chimneys.
By the time we reached the buildings we were pretty cold and wet. A convoy of dogs came out to bark us in under the covered verandah, where a group of men gazed silently as we walked by. In the farmhouse kitchen Signora Adami stood at a wood-fired stove, stirring a big bowl of fresh polenta with a wooden paddle. Various girls and young women were warming themselves by a big open hearth while a couple of boys helped set a long table for what looked like lunch for an army. On the walls hung huge cow-bells, holy pictures and the snarling head of what must have been the father of all wild boars.
Once Ennio had explained what he and I were up to, the blank faces broke into smiles. Dreadlocked and dread-bearded Arduino Adami, the young cheese-maker of Pieltinis, showed us round his dairy where a big copper cheese vat steamed gently. Beyond in the cool dark cheese room, round truckles of formaggio di malga and brown bombs of smoked ricotta filled the shelves. Dry, damp, crumbly, salt, sweet – we nibbled and tasted and tested Arduino’s finest produce until lunch was called from the farmhouse.
Ennio and I were halfway into our wet raingear and preparing to leave the Adami family to its Sunday meal. But neither mother nor father – a heavily moustached man with hands like shovels and a basso profundo rasp of a laugh – would hear of it. Take that coat off right now! Put away your umbrella! Didn’t you hear me say that the polenta was ready? Well, then!
It was a scene such as I thought had vanished from modern Europe – a family sitting down 25 strong, along with the guests that God had sent them, to eat rabbit, chicken and potatoes straight out of the bowl. A great block of yellow polenta, sliced with cheese wires, took pride of place.
As the temperature dropped outside and the rain turned sleety, the firelit kitchen grew to seem the friendliest and most delightful place on earth. We ate and drank till our buttons squeaked. Over a glass of grappa infused with pine cones, two of the burly sons offered to drive Ennio and me back down to the valley. It was just as well. Full to the brim with drowsy contentment, I couldn’t have set out on that rain-sodden homeward path to save my life.
STEPPING OUT
MAP: Carta Topografica Tabacco 1:25,000 Sheet 01 ‘Sappada-S.Stefano Forni Avoltri’
TRAVEL: Ryanair (www.ryanair.com) fly to Trieste. A4, E55 to Trieste, Udine and on to Exit Carnia; SS52 to Tolmezzo and Ampezzo. In Ampezzo, right to Sauris di Sotto (13 km); continue 4 km towards Sauris di Sopra. Just before small bridge, with first houses of Sauris di Sopra visible ahead, dirt track on right (signed ‘2/E’) hairpins up from road. Park just up track.
WALK DIRECTIONS: Climb track through trees, a steep path at first, then easing. In 1½ miles meet a junction of tracks; one descends to right, but keep ahead (waymark ‘3/B, Malghe’) on path, following red, white and red ‘sandwich’ waymarks, numbered 218 on trees and rocks. In 300 yards bear steeply left uphill on path through woods, keeping a sharp eye out for ‘3/B’ signs, red-and-white waymarks and red arrows showing change of direction. In 2/3 mile, watch for the path forking up to the left to top of bank. From here you can see the Malga Pieltinis between its peaks; follow path to reach it.
Return same way; or follow road, keeping careful eye on map, via the malghe of Vinadia Grande, Malins and Festons back to Sauris di Sopra.
LENGTH OF WALK: 7 miles there-and-back, Sauris di Sopra to Malga Pieltinis; , miles there-and-back; 9 miles round trip via all four malghe.
CONDITIONS: Forest tracks and paths, some slippery and steep, some narrow; tricky waymarking.
REFRESHMENTS: Malga Pieltinis (open mid-June to end-Sept) offers lunch of cheese, meats, salad etc, also cheese, butter etc for sale. Other malghe, open for a similar season, offer much the same. NB – family hospitality such as Christopher Somerville enjoyed is at the pleasure of the occupants, and is not generally on offer!
ACOMMODATION: Borgo di S. Lorenzo, 33020 Sauris di Sopra (tel 0433-86221; ilborgodisauris@tin.it; www.carnia.org/alberghi/ilborgo) – self-catering apartments from £28 a night for 2. Eat at the neighbouring Ristorante ‘Pame Stifl’ (tel 0433-866331) and drink their Sauris-brewed beer.
GUIDE: Contact Ennio Rizzotti through Tarvisio tourist office (see below) or privately (Via Segherie 15, 33018 Tarvisio – UD; tel (00-39) 0428-644194/0333-290-1914; enniorizzotti@libero.it). Ennio Rizzotti charges c.£125 a day – i.e. £25 a head for party of 5.
INFORMATION:
Tourism: Consorzio Servizi Turistici del Tarvisiano, Via Roma 10, 33018 Tarvisio, Italy; tel (00-39) 0428-2392; www.tarvisiano.org.
Also: www.viamalghe.com.