“I once was lost, but now am found.”
I have been away travelling for nearly a month. A legacy trip in honour of my late husband, a trip he and I always planned to do, but kept putting off. You always think you have time, but things change, and then it’s too late.
I held back a small jar of Karl’s ashes to take home to England. To Liverpool, where he was born, and to Egremont in Cumbria, a place he loved, a place where he lived as a boy. Today, I want to tell you about the first leg of the trip — 8 days at a retreat in Umbria, Italy. More travel tales to come later.
For years, Karl and I followed the Idler Academy. It’s a British magazine, online and hard copy by subscription. We’ve taken classes on their website. You can study the ukelele, beekeeping, writing, ancient philosophy, and so much more. They hold events too: retreats in Italy and Spain, a festival in London, and Zoom chats dubbed, “A Drink with the Idler.”
To get the gist of their credo, here’s a quote from The Idler Manifesto:
“Inaction is the wellspring of creation. Art, people, life – bread, bacon, beer – live first, work later.”
You can see the appeal.
Karl and I always dreamt of attending an Idler event in person one day, so when I saw an advertisement for their Spring Retreat at the Villa Pia in Italy, I signed up. This is how I would start my journey.
The retreat included a 3-part mini pilgrimage in honour of St. Francis of Assisi, a man born in Umbria in 1181. He founded the Franciscan Order of Friars. The son of a wealthy merchant, he’d given up a privileged existence to live in poverty and had devoted his life to helping the poor.
The Villa Pia is close to the ancient town of Assisi, a World Heritage Site, and the walks were to include three days of pilgrimage along the paths of the St. Francis Camino, which runs from Assisi to Rome. Not the whole route. Only a portion.
I guess my idea of a pilgrimage was a slow wander through the countryside on route to an important landmark, with plenty of time to reflect. I was so mistaken.
Yes, I was worried about my knees and my footwear. That’s why I skipped the 1st day, reportedly a steep downhill trudge. Anyone with bad knees can tell you that downhill is the worst. I was also newly arrived and terribly jet-lagged. And I have one dodgy foot. Regular hiking boots or even sturdy runners never fit me, but I had packed my most comfortable shoes. And I was hopeful for the 2nd and 3rd days of pilgrimage. Sadly, unrealistic optimism has long been my failing.
Tom Hodgson (the founder of the Idler Academy) and his wife, Victoria, are charming and fun. Tom and the academy’s resident philosopher, Mark Vernon, gave daily thought-provoking and entertaining talks. We watched a 1972 Franco Zeffirelli movie entitled “Brother, Sun, Sister, Moon.” The B&W film is based on the life of St. Francis, with a musical score by Donovan. We even had a sing-a-long, with piano and guitar by fellow retreaters, and Tom performing on the ukelele. The Villa was fabulous, the food fantastic. There was morning yoga, cooking classes and wine tasting. I don’t remember any time I’ve slept so well — the fresh country air, the gentle surroundings.
The retreaters included 28 people of various ages and diverse occupations. Interesting and interested individuals. A few of them, close to my age, had opted not to do the walk that 2nd day. They would meet up with the group at the final destination (Archeologia Arborea) to attend a talk by a woman attempting to preserve the ancient vegetation of the region.
Everyone warned me that the 1st day of hiking had been tough, but I figured I could manage it. Plus, I didn’t want to miss out. I wanted to take in the stunning Umbrian countryside. It’s green and lush, with a miscellany of deciduous trees clustering the exquisite rolling hills.
We took a bus to the village of Citerna and strolled around the ancient rock buildings and medieval walkways before starting out … I should say, starting down. A very steep downhill start. I quickly fell behind the others. Within an hour, I was far in rear of the group. One guide, and one other retreater stayed back with me, which made me feel terrible. Ten years early, I would have been at the front of the pack. Now, I was holding them up.
We came to a highway that crossed the trail, and I asked Victoria if they had an exit point planned for farther along the trail. She said “no,” and suggested we call a cab to take me to the final destination. Our guide ordered a taxi, and she waited with me by the side of the roadway. The group continued on.
When the cab driver arrived, he and the guide brought up Google Maps on their phones. After much finger-poking and heated Italian conversation, I was in the taxi on route to our final destination where I would wait for the rest to arrive.
The cabbie headed up a bumpy dirt lane outside the village of Lerchi. Five minutes up, he noticed a no-entry sign blocking a trail on the right. “I think we’ve gone too far. I think it was back there,” he said, struggling with the English words as he reversed down. The word “think” should have caused me more alarm. He turned right and started up an even worse road — a veritable goat path. After driving straight uphill for several minutes through enormous potholes and around large rocks, he said, “My car can’t make it farther.” He pointed to a path signed by a green T and told me to, “Follow the T signs, and you’ll come to the house.”
He was gone in a flash, and I set out to follow the T signs. These T signs mark the St. Francis Camino trails. Now, I was alone, trudging up a steep, treacherous path. Up I climbed, for over 30 minutes. I came across no house and no other person. At this point, I knew something was wrong. I turned to roaming on my phone. Thank G_d there were 2 bars of service. That would not be the case in our Canadian wilderness. I tapped on my Apple Maps and typed in Archeologia Arborea. My search brought up an archeologia museum a couple of miles away on the other side of the village. I figured the cab driver had got it entirely wrong.
I started back down the gnarly path…slowly…knees fired with pain. Halfway down, as I gingerly descended the tricky slope, a tall white-haired man with a walking stick overtook me from behind. He stopped, turned around, and frowned at me. American accent — he spoke English. “You need a stick,” he said. “I have two, but I only use one.” He plucked a red metal walking stick out of his backpack, adjusted it, and showed me how to use it properly. Then he was off, leaving me comforted by the mere sight of another human being and by his kindness.
As a group, we were in contact through WhatsApp, but I knew the retreaters would still be hiking. I felt I could make it to the final destination, 2 miles away, and maybe even before they got there. So, I headed toward the museum, my new walking stick clicking over stones and ruts. I walked and walked and walked. I wandered down and through the village. Then started up another road, following the blue dot on my Apple Maps. Two hours later, having nearly reached the museum, I decided to message the group. They’d have finished their mini pilgrimage for the day and might be concerned. Man, were they concerned. They’d arrived at their destination to find me AWOL, and panicked. When I tried to describe my whereabouts, they had no idea. Luckily, WhatsApp has a location finder.
The cab driver hadn’t got it wrong. He had been on the right road. He just didn’t go up far enough. Had he continued on, he’d have driven me straight to the house. Our final destination, the Archeologia Arborea, wasn’t programmed into Apple Maps. The ap had been sending me off to an entirely different site. All was well, though. Victoria sent someone by car to pick me up, and with weak-legged relief, I climbed into the back seat.
In the end, I didn’t actually miss out altogether on the St. Francis Camino experience. I had launched and completed my own private pilgrimage at my own pace. But, a couple of days later, as the group prepared for the 3rd and final leg of their walking tour, I was quite happy to sit that one out. Instead, I spent the afternoon exploring the amazing town of Assisi with two lovely ladies.