Memories of a road that led to Rome

Wow it is already thaaaat long ago that I set foot on the Via Francigena? … Well let me share my memories with you non the less.

How it all began. It was a quite cold winter day in early 2016 when I decided not to apply for my Erasmus semester in Rome but instead walk there in the following summer. It was a crazy idea at first but it has always been a dream of mine and it was time for another big solo adventure. At that point I had studied already two years and even though during that time I had taken many breaks to travel through Western Australia, Italy and Sweden I felt like I had been sitting at my desk and in lectures long enough. I had travelled a lot: backpacking, road trips, hitch hiking, camping… I had all those experiences. But I didn’t really had done any hiking/backpacking trips longer than 5 days in a row, never hiked in mountains and I had never been to Rome. Perfect first timers combined I stuck to the idea and got into the planning.

The planning. I am not a big planner and I had a lot of things to do before stepping into this adventure so my plan was quite brief: borrowing the equipment i needed and didn’t have yet, packing it into my big old backpack and starting the walk after I finished working and volunteering in the summer. And after all I was quite confident. Do you know the saying “All the roads lead to Rome”? ;) Well i didn’t want to trust that to the full extend to I ended up buying a guide book. The “Rother Wanderführer - Via Francigena von Lausanne nach Rom” by Renate Florl. The guidebook proofed to be quite good (just slightly out of date) and I didn’t had to use any other means of navigation like GPS or other maps.

Just to not cause any harm or misunderstanding: The Via Francigena was an easy trail to walk without much planning. I crossed small towns and civilization every day. There is pilgrim infrastructure and almost all the commodities of modern life never more than a couple of hours walk away. A lot of the way leads next to or on roads or very well maintained trails what makes getting lost more of a challenge than finding the way. On trails that are more exposed and difficult as well as further from towns and civilization I highly recommend a more thorough planning process!

I read the introduction and the pack-list and couldn’t wait for the adventure to start. With borrowing older gear I ended up having a way to heavy pack and I had bought new but to small shoes, well of course I found out about that just when I was already emerged in the Swiss Alps.

The Via Francigena. The Via Francigena is, like the more popular Camino de Santiago, an ancient pilgrim route that started to be walked in the year 313 when Christians in the Roman Empire were allowed to practice their religion freely and with that started to go on pilgrimages to visit the tombs of the apostles Peter and Paul. The modern Route of the Via Francigena leads from Canterbury (UK) to Rome (Italy). It dates back to the 10th Century and is based on the travel notes by Sigeric Archbishop of Canterbury at that time. Lausanne (Switzerland) marks the crossroads of the Camino di Santiago and the Via Francigena. And that is where I started my 1100km long Journey.

Struggling through the start. With a backpack full of dry food, a stove, watercolor paints and sketchbooks, a sleeping back, bivy and pad and a long pilgrim staff in my hand I hitch-hiked the first 1200 km from my home town in the north of Germany to Lausanne. I started my Journey in the cathedral. It was a super emotional moment and I visualized the St.-Peters-Square where I was planning to arrive in something like 6 weeks after hiking 1100 km. In front of my inner eye I saw all those who did that journey before me. People who did it in hope for redemption, in the search of something more holy than they had found at home, maybe to escape from something or to pray for healing. With all those faces there might have been millions of reasons to start and also in my heart the WHY had a lot of shapes and colors. I wanted to eat lots of really good Gelato and found out that Ice cream tastes even better after walking 20 kilometers through tuscan sun ;) But this was obviously not the main reason. I grew up in a very religious protestant family and was searching for parts of God that were different from what I had so far experienced. I knew just very little about catholicism. I was curious. I wanted to be outdoors. Being under the free sky for more than 6 weeks! To experience the history and art on the way drew me to those old, meaning loaded places and at the same time I just wanted to walk and see the stunning scenery! An important aspect for me was the soloing as well. To be alone for a long time, finding myself and think through and feel through all of what we just don’t take the time for in “normal” life. Arriving at the Lake of Geneva I enjoyed super late summer sunshine. I had never been in Switzerland before and I was stunned by the cleanliness of public places and felt immediately warm and welcome. The walk along the shore is simply beautiful. I went for a swim whenever I could and I felt like on holiday. The view on Chateau de Chillon looked like a postcard itself. But there was no need to poke myself for a reality check: My feet started blistering up already on the second day. After on day 5 a pharmacist explained me in french (which I didn’t understand) and some hand and feet that I should better stop hiking I changed from my hiking boots that were apparently at least two sized to small into my old trainers. I had to take out the insoles to fit the bandages I was wearing around my toes and other parts of my feet. Every step was now a little bit less painful and while my feet slowly healed I realized that being a pilgrim doesn’t have to hurt every minute standing and walking. And that I did a huge step starting this journey so that it was probably obvious that I had outgrown my shoes.

Crossing the Alps. Reaching the Col du Grand Saint-Bernard I was on the highest point I had ever been. I looked back and saw the tiny trail winding down. It was crazy to think that I had walked all that way up. Me, the little snail, who had never been very fit or sporty had dragged her backpack and herself up on top of the Alps. (I know a Pass with 2473m is not literally the top of the Alps but it definitely felt that way.) The mountain landscapes were stunning. I saw birds and plants I had seen just in documentaries and breathed air that seamed cleaner and freer. Walking down on the other side of the pass meant crossing over into Italy: The first big step was done. I had walked the Swiss section of my journey. The Aosta Region was stunning and I camped in beautiful forests, crossed cute old valleys that seamed to have more time than the usual 24h a day, or had they lost time? Well I admired the castles and walked on impressive old original roman pieces of road (arch and street fragments in Donnas) I slowly made my way and the life of a pilgrim seamed less like a strange dream but more like a grounded reality. The routine was easy: getting up and packing, drinking tea and eating porridge, walking until lunchtime, eating snacks and sleeping a long nap, hiking through the afternoon, cooking mash for dinner on my stove and laying down to sleep in a hostel or outdoors somewhere. Repeat.

Walking through Italy. After 5 years I don’t remember all the single places I have passed or all the moments I thought I would never forget but I have become somebody else. I grew. And I grew closer to this beautiful collection of places. The most impressed I remained by the diversity. Italy has the highest level of faunal biodiversity in Europe and I experiences this in the change of landscape, cultures and climate. The western Alps with their rocks and fast rivers, small wooden houses with slate roofs and mountain pines made space for a big plain. As the mountains faded in the distance the churches and cathedrals became higher and where just as impressive how they rose above the fields and towns. The walking was easier and faster after crossing the the whole plain of the river Po the towns are smaller again and the way is lifting. I walked through forests of beech trees and enjoyed the less sticky air. The Apennin is welcoming with hills and smaller mountains a lot of forest and small rivers and beautiful old towns on mountain tops. Entering Tuscany feels like entering a room full of paintings. Maybe because Tuscany had been always a place of longing for German classical artists, but maybe just because it’s so soft and timeless. From these green beautiful mountain places the way leads down again. And I was anticipating this sounds for quite a while by than: the sound of the waves. There is probably nothing much better than swimming in the Mediterranean Sea after walking “non-stop” for more than three weeks. The hills and all those famous tuscan towns and cities awaited and had been waiting there to be visited for so long that you can feel the souls of past pilgrims and tourists and emperors and monks still breathing through the marble stones and dirt roads. And the further south you walk the more delicious is the ice cream and the focaccia! Walking the last third of the way there are impressive lakes and small creaks and rivers, hazelnut farms that have to produce all the nuts to provide for a Nutella and Nocciola Gelato eating nation. Walking not just on the steps of the Romans but also tracing the settlements and path of estruscans makes one feel as if you walk deeper and deeper into the soul of this walk just waiting to reach the heart (Rome) soon. The anticipation grows and not even aggressive huge shepherding dogs could stop me on that way.

Arriving in Rome. I could keep writing for ever just as I could have kept walking. But at some point, as it seams random day in Oktober 2016, I arrived on that hill. I had been walking through urban areas for a while now and climbed up some stairs through this a little bit dry park. I smelled cars and hot tarmac and the pine trees in the wind. The ground was dusty and I had little pebbles in my shoes but as I looked up I saw Rome. I didn’t see it for long because my eyes filled up with tears. I saw the St. Peter's Basilica and the ochre and orange of the millions of buildings and the blueish dust that hovers above big cities. I was there! It still took a while of walking along some high trafficked streets but than there I stood on the St.-Peters Square. Me and my old heavy backpack. Although I had walked most of the way alone I stood there with all of those who had felt the same or different upon arrival after such a big journey. A set of emotions a bit to big to put into words.

There is so much more I could write about so many small stories. I feel like I haven’t talk about it sufficiently because you don’t know yet about how I was woken up by at least 10 wild bores sniffing around me, or how I struggled repetitively with the decision wether to walk back or not when I forgot my walking stick somewhere were I had taken a break. I didn’t tell you about this amazing nun that gave me a huge lunch and who’s blessing and prayer I walked all the way to the pope. All those anonymous angels who showed me the way or gave me a lift, food, water. I couldn’t be more thankful for that adventure and how it had changed me.

About carrying paper and colors. The three big watercolor sketchbooks, the box full of paints and the paintbrushes i carried were definitely not in the pack of every normal thru-hiker or pilgrim. I carried all this to once in a while on my journey hold still and observe the colors and shapes around me and than I painted what I felt. At the same time I still had to supply artwork to my painting exam at University and, lucky me, could make the deal to ship them the results instead of coming in person to the colloquium. So I had it all: a great opportunity for Plain Air Painting, a deadline for an exam, the peace and time for creating and the extra load of art supplies.

Growing. Diving into the comforts of Mediterranean sunshine and subtropical temperatures in October, the amazing Italian food and huge cultural heritage and amazing artwork, the comforts of fresh air and nature around me made this an amazingly beautiful experience. Leaving the comfort of home and cars and houses and company made me grow exponentially. I learned so much about myself and about walking, about Italy and its landscape and history. I found out that walking is like an amplifier for all what makes us human. I wanted to say i went home a wiser person… but I didn’t go home after that ;) walking to Rome was just a step into the direction of the next adventure: Flying to Canada.