22Feb2022
As I drive up the Val Torre from Tarcento to Vedronza, I think about how unusual it is for there to be a Roman bridge is in such a remote place. Maybe it wasn’t really the Romans who built it... who knows. But a friend of mine who is keen on local history, told me a few years ago that this was indeed the route followed by the Roman road leading to Austria; it was less than three days' journey from Aquileia. He had even asked me to help him search for the now-lost paths using an ancient Roman map that included the Friuli area, the tabula Peutingeriana.
I hadn’t really heeded him much at the time, but today I remembered the story. And at the same time, I recalled how as small children we used to go ito Vedronza by bike in August to dive into the ice-cold pools of the Vedronzassa. I remember the clear, cold water, our yells and the joy these places gave us. I arrive at the second ford and open the door for the dogs. As soon as they see the clear pool they gleefully throw themselves in. And all around us the silent forest beckons.
We start walking along the track through the forests that are still bare but rich in blue crocuses among the yellow grass. Pillows of heather sprout here and there, among the stones. The stream gurgles in the background. The dogs are sniffing around, curious. We pass the last paved ford and after a few hundred metres, at the level of a beautiful stone house, the road becomes a path. A sign recalls that we are on the circular path of the Alta Val del Torre. I like wandering aimlessly through the woods. With the dogs, I climb along a ridge and come across a new path, much wider and well taken care of. The torrent is much lower now. I follow it. There, now I can see the bridge from afar.
There, in the midst of the mountains, between the Chiampon chain and Monte Stella, there is a stone bridge. I feel as though I'm back on the way to Santiago, where you cross some stunning bridges in the woods far away from any villages. I wonder how much history has passed here. A bridge that joined Borgo Pers (and just the name is appealing, with its sense of ‘perso’ or ‘lost’) to Pieve di Stella and then down to Tarcento. The clear stream burbles as I pass with my dogs over the old bridge. I look at the mountains and the woods around. There is no-one around apart from us.
From the Roman bridge, I take the steep path to the village of Pers, through the woods, with bends of pebbles covered with moss. The dogs run up and down in front of me, with only the old Jena, out of shape, puffing behind me. I'm struggling to climb; I'm not fit any more.
When I see that we are about to come out into the sun, to the little plateau on which stand the remains of the Pers hamlet, I call the dogs. Obediently, they place themselves in line behind me. The four uninhabited houses welcome us to the sun. There is a car but no one around. Borgo Pers, now truly ‘lost’ in the forests and for men.
I take a new path to go down to the river, where once the terraces used to be cultivated and where the drystone walls still survive the years. The high grass and brambles quickly conceal the tracks, but the intense barking of Thea, much further down, makes us realiae that she has found something, or rather someone.
I start running down, over branches, trunks and rocks. The other three dogs leap behind me, alongside and in front. We find the path a little lower down and I call Thea, who continues to bark. When I stop to look for her, I realise that what I called a path is nothing more than a trail made by wild animals or is a path made by hunters who know the area well. Someone is looking at us from afar as Thea comes back to us. We feel his gaze: first the dogs, and then me, as we continue to descend the woods towards the torrent that we can hear below.
Quickly, running behind the dogs, we come back to the banks of the Vedronzassa torrent, which runs clear and cheerfully down the valley. And its cheerfulness after the run through the woods does wonders for my spirit too. Again, the dogs hear someone spying on us from the woods, and a little further down I find the fresh tracks of a large stag near a puddle of water, where it probably comes to drink.
I try to look through the trees but I see nothing. Given the time, it is certainly not the right moment to see wild animals. I decide to go down, following the torrent and jumping between the stones. The cheerful dogs are all soaked in the still cold water. The forest begins slowly to awaken in silence: crocuses, primroses, fat and almost damp buds on the trees. The scent of moss in the midst of the frothing water.
I feel like a small boy again, when in the woods we would play at knights and dragons, fights with huge monsters, or hide-and-seek. I look around and think, “Yes, it's right here that one should be able to live again today”.
But I go back to my van, load the dogs and leave the enchanted valley.
Find out about the ideas and offers for this experience in Friuli Venezia Giulia
Leonardo Portelli
Enrico Cappellaro
Andrej Bandelj
