Michelangelo, monks and much too much food in Tuscany’s Arrezo Region.
‘Dov’è la cascata?’ I repeat the question but the woman in the doorway, short, slight and silver-haired, looks all the more perplexed, her frown deepening. I am out walking in the countryside and I am lost. My local guide, Pedro, a golden retriever and beloved pet of my hosts, Giulio and Alice, is dropping no hints as to where I might find the waterfall I’m trying to locate. I have been trekking for over an hour and am almost back where I started, in the rustic Tuscan town of Caprese Michelangelo. If I look over my right shoulder, I can see the terra cotta roof of my farmhouse bed and breakfast just downhill from where I stand.
Caprese Michelangelo
Caprese Michelangelo – the birthplace of Michelangelo himself – is located in the Arrezo region of Eastern Tuscany. Known previously as ‘Caprese’, the town was baptised ‘Caprese Michelangelo’ by royal decree in 1913, honouring the renaissance painter and claiming some serious bragging rights. Situated in the Valtiberina, or High Tiber Valley, it is not difficult to believe this magical landscape proved to be an inspiring setting for a legendary creative.
The Valtiberina sits within the Apennine Mountain Range, stretching 1200km down the spine of Italy. It is deep green and more mountainous than southern parts of the region with all the signature features of the Tuscan countryside; olive groves, cypress trees and vineyards as far as the eye can see. Having arrived from Campania after a long day of navigating middle Italy’s roads in a supermini Lancia Ypsilon, which largely consisted of swerving wayward drivers, I look forward to doing very little across the three days I have to spend here. Dolce far niente, as the Italians would say. The beauty of doing nothing. A foreign concept to a millennial Londoner.
Agriturismi and tastes of Tuscany
Agriturismi (plural) are farm-stays which attract visitors seeking a more authentic, first-hand experience of rural life in the Italian countryside. They are independent farms which owners use partially for hosting guests. Agriturismi started to grow in popularity in the 1970’s following an exodus of small farmers from rural Italy, when traditional small-scale farming was becoming less and less profitable. Eager to maintain Italian agricultural traditions – the local, small-scale production of foods such as bread, cheese, wine and olives – Italian lawmakers created a legal definition for ‘agriturismo’ in 1985 which helped them to provide funds to restore abandoned rural buildings. Now agriturismo options range from family-friendly animal farms to luxury farm-stays.
On my first evening at Agritourismo Il Vigno, I dine on a five-course feast of Tuscan favourites sourced locally and prepared and served by Giulio and Alice. Platters of cheese, melon and cured meats; traditional tomato bruschetta, deep red and sweet to the taste; crisp garden-fresh salad with crunchy pine nuts; savoury tarts of soft cheese and oaky black truffle and homemade ravioli doused generously in pesto; bright green, herby and pungent. Simplicity is at the heart of Tuscan cuisine which revolves around fresh, local produce. I am surprised to learn that this tradition developed of necessity, for historic Tuscany experienced high levels of poverty. ‘Many years ago we were a region of poor farmers’, Giulio tells me, ‘ so local people relied on staple foods such as bread, pasta, hams, cheeses and olive oil. They had to buy from each other.’ We break the last of the bread, soaking up dregs of olive oil and balsamic.
Between hosting duties, Guilio tells me more about Caprese Michelangelo and the many walking routes about the pine-woods and chestnut groves surrounding the farmhouse. Giulio describes a trail which begins behind the hamlet, runs through woodland and concludes at a waterfall where I can swim. Dolce far niente fast forgotten, I decide to explore my surroundings on foot the very next day.
Into the woods
I am minutes from Il Vigno when Pedro bounds ahead of me excitably, his cream-coloured coat glistening and tail wagging like a windscreen wiper. He turns his head to check I am following before ambling forth. After several failed attempts to coax Pedro back towards the farmhouse, I call Alice. ‘Don’t worry, it’s fine’, she laughs, ‘Pedro will show you the way.’
As I struggle to request directions whilst Pedro sniffs a bush, I worry I may have taken Alice’s advice too literally. The woman in the doorway turns and walks back into her house, leaving the door ajar. I smile questioningly, before she remerges with a promising solution: a young man armed with a smart phone. I google a picture of a waterfall and point at the screen. ‘La cascata?’ Now, the young man looks confused. After some more googling, pointing and strained English-Italian exchanges, I am shown to a path which begins in a meadow behind the village. ‘La cascata…’, my new acquaintance stretches his arms wide, ‘big….but this…’ he points towards the spot where the path disappears into woodland, ‘…very small.’
Committed to turn the escapade around, I bid thanks and continue towards the trail with Pedro in tow. A few minutes later, I enter the welcome shade of the woodland. The landscape of Tuscany is highly distinctive but I could be anywhere in this leafy enclosure. I follow a marked trail of mud and moss for 10 minutes until I arrive at la cascata which, as has been highlighted, is not exactly a waterfall. To call it a spring would be generous. There is just enough water to submerge my shoulders, if I sit cross-legged.
No sooner do I enter the stream, Pedro starts barking erratically, seemingly resting his gaze on a hill behind the spring. Whilst it is unclear if Pedro is upset by a genuine threat or just the sight of me half naked after several days of gluttony, the barking proves disruptive and slightly spooky. I exit the stream and lead a very muddy Pedro back to the farmhouse to be hosed down, having failed spectacularly at chasing waterfalls.
St. Francis’s Sanctuary
I have one final outing during my stay in Caprese Michelangelo, one which leads me up the steep winding roads of Mount Penna to a thirteenth century Franciscan monastery. Monasteries are often set in secluded and hard to reach locations to provide residents with the necessary solitude for distraction-free contemplation. I am certain that whoever built La Verna had this in mind when doing so. As I continue the crawl, twisting and turning around sharp corners which at times bring the car to a complete halt, I imagine what it might have been like to travel this road on foot. I am headed to the starting point – or endpoint – of the Cammino Francescano; a historic pilgrimage route which crosses Umbria to Assisi, stopping at the most significant Francian sites. Pilgrims can begin the route from Piediluco in the south or the sanctuary of La Verna in my northern location.
The Sanctuary of La Verna was gifted to Italy’s Patron Saint in 1213 by Orlando Catani, the Count of Chiusi in Casentino, who hoped to guarantee safety for his own soul through this generous offering. La Verna is not so much built upon the mountain but part of the mountain itself. From a distance, the stone walls of the monastery are barely distinguishable from the cliff face, like they have been sculpted from the rock itself. I enter the monastery from the forest of beech woods and firs which engulf the peak and walk through a small portico out on to the grand plaza. The Sundial Plaza, named for the sundial carved on the bell tower of the basilica, is a stone quadrant which sits between the monastery and a sheer drop from the mountainside. On the far side of the plaza is a wooden cross and, beyond it, a magnificent panoramic of the lush, green Casentino Valley. I watch as a pair of monks dressed in modest brown robes cross the plaza, deep in conversation, oblivious yet most accustomed to the visitors who have come to share their sacred space.
A stone stairway leads me down into Mount Penna’s hidden depths; cool, damp crevasses of rock which has proved a popular meditation hideout for residents. A thick coat of bright green moss covers the rocky walls, as if to show me there is life in this stillness. I note patches where the sign of the cross has been scratched into the greenness hundreds of times over, like a guestbook of anonymous signees leaving their mark. I follow the path through the rock to reach the Sasso Spicco, the ’split rock’; a boulder which protrudes like a make-shift roof to create a natural shelter, a refuge within a refuge. I am not alone in the mountain side and this only accentuates the quiet: a whisper is an echo; the crunch of a twig underfoot rings as loud as the bells of the basilica. It is not disruptive, but peaceful. Tranquil. I think back to my car journey to Caprese Michelangelo where I thought about discovering dolce far niente. Turns out the Italians cracked it 800 years ago.
Essentials
Getting there & around
More remote regions of Tuscany are within bus or rail routes so are only accessible by car, taxi or moped.
When to go
April, May, June, September, and October are peak months warm weather. July and August see temperatures rise into the 30s (Celsius) which could be perfect if you’re basking in the sunshine poolside but a little hot for an outdoorsy getaway.
Where to stay
There is a plethora of accommodation available in Tuscany, from boutique hotels and villas to apartments and B&Bs. For an authentic farm stay experience, stay in an agriturismo. I stayed at Il Vigno, which I would wholly recommend.
How do it
Self-driving is highly recommended though tours of Tuscany depart from Florence, Siena, San Gimignano and Pisa.