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Day 1 Pontassieve: Strong start, weak landing

E phatlaladitšwe: 14.04.2024

My first tour on the Way of St. Francis, with the destination Pontassieve, begins in Florence and already looks promising in the first four kilometers: I walk south of the old town along the shady Belvedere to the Ponte S. Nicolo. Here the path goes along a ridge between old avenue trees and imposing villas, and to the left there are always charming views of the cathedral.

After a stage upstream on the southern bank of the Arno, the route heads into the mountains, with olive groves, villas and churches. I can already sense that places of cultural and historical significance will accompany me on this journey: Bagno a Ripoli, the former Etruscan settlement, and not far from there, the Tabernacolo di Rimaggino. As I later learn, it is one of 339 shrines in the municipality of Bagno a Ripoli that have been catalogued by an art historian named Roberto Lunardi.

The thing about orientation

I gain altitude and keep looking back at Florence, which I gradually have to say goodbye to as the route progresses. Unfortunately, it is not only particularly beautiful here, it also becomes confusing. Near Paterno, the local signposts disappear. The hiking guide (which had been quite reliable up to this point) no longer corresponds to the local conditions. I try out different paths and try to get my bearings. Unfortunately, without success.

When I asked an older man "where" he was going, he turned around twice, thought for a long time, and then finally pointed in one direction, accompanied by a somewhat uncertain hand gesture. A couple came along the path. They both pointed in the opposite direction. What I could get from their Italian-French mixture of words was not much more than: "very far" and "very steep". Even Google Maps and GPS couldn't agree. It wasn't the steep path that scared me, nor the distance; what worried me more was the lack of orientation. My phone had used up a lot of its battery while searching. So with a heavy heart I set off back again (without having seen the lonely, rocky mountains and the Covento dell'Incontro) to find my destination in the valley without a sat nav.

Unfortunately, that may be sensible, but it is not pleasant, because once I reach the valley, the rest of the route takes me along an 11-kilometer-long, busy road with no places to stop for refreshments, no pedestrian or cycle path. I cannot escape this misery: the Arno to the left, the mountains to the right. And all this in the intense afternoon heat. In short: an ordeal that robs me of my strength right at the start of my pilgrimage. Time is running out, because the landlord can only wait until 6 p.m. It would have been better not to book in advance, and I think longingly of the tempting signs on the houses in Rimaggio that promise wonderful accommodation. But I stick to my reservation and my destination. A few kilometers from Pontassieve, I finally manage to take refuge in a trattoria. And lo and behold, my reserves are replenished faster than I feared and I look forward to tomorrow.

The culinary aftertaste

For the second time, I ended up eating at a young people's place who only had two typical regional dishes on their menu (one of which was already gone). They specialize in selling everything on the street. Yesterday it was tongue salad (I admit, it takes a bit of getting used to, but it's not bad), today it's Pappa al Pomodore.

Karabo (1)

Bubo bubo
Des Wand’rers Lust ist Wandern. Bewegt schlecht einen andern. ’Nen Müller schon, Gestrandet – von Florenz nach Rom – in Flandern. [Limerick, frei nach Wilhelm Müller]

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