I first began to dream about walking the St Francis Way when I visited Assisi on a trip to Italy in 2019. While traveling, I was reading about St Francis and his wanderings. I promised myself that the next time I visited Assisi, I would arrive on foot.

So I studied the route that runs between Florence and Rome and chose a week of walking that would take me over some hills, into some charming Umbrian villages and through the woods into Assisi. I selected a week in spring, invited a friend to join me, and we made our plans to return to the Way of St Francis the following year.

But then the world changed and we all stayed home. My friend and I did our walk anyway, but each in our own hometowns, walking the number of miles we had planned to walk each day in Italy. We read Richard Rohr’s book about St Francis, Eager to Love, and we talked on the phone since we couldn’t walk side by side.

After that season, I set aside the St Francis Way, or the Via di Francesco.

And then all of a sudden, it returned to me. A group of friends and I were talking in January about a doing a walk in September and as I was suggesting options, I remembered that I had a walk all planned that we could do. The document with all my old plans was still on my computer, the days and miles all mapped out.

What if we walked in Italy this year? 

And so a plan came together.

The dream of walking in St Francis’ footsteps that I had released was ready for a different time.

Five years after I had originally planned to go, I met my friends at the bus station around the corner from the railway station in Terni.

The four of them came running around the corner towards me. I stood in front of a bus where I had persuaded the driver to wait just a little longer for mie amiche!

It was a hilarious start to the week!

I waved them all on to the bus and handed the driver the tickets. Then I went back to greet and hug them in their seats, where they had collapsed from running to just barely make it.

We rode the bus to Arrone, a quaint Umbrian village set up high on an outcropping of rocks.

Over drinks by a pool at a guest house, we caught up on the months since we had last been together.

Day 1: Arrone to Ceselli
10 miles (+ a few extra)
900 ft

The next morning we started out, as all walks begin, with our first steps out the front door of our guesthouse and through the town. We picked up snacks along the way for a picnic.

Soon we were spotting trail markers and signs for the St Francis Way. Blue and yellow stripes, sometimes the “T” or the Tao that folks often wear as a sign of St Francis. It looks like the plain brown robe he wore.

It was a cloudy, damp morning. We ended up in raincoats quickly after starting out, but then we took them off and on all day long. It was never hot, but walking warmed us up enough to shed layers.

The path winds northward out of Arrone through the Valnerina valley with Apennine mountains to the west that were shrouded in mist for most of the day.

We decided to add on a few miles this day to go and see a 12th century monastery that was up on the hill, just a little bit out of our way, the Abbazia San Pietro in Valle.

To get to the abbey, we climbed through the quiet village of Macenano.

We couldn’t actually go into the abbey but we could view it from the trail that went around it.

It seemed like the kind of place that would be cool to go and to disappear to for a while, and I believe you can actually go and stay as a guest.

We came back down from the abbey to re-join the trail by a different route and it began to rain again.

There were a few more miles to go during which we had rain and sun alternatively. We reached a crossroads where I had arranged a taxi because we were staying about four miles off the main trail in a converted convent. Santa Croce in Sant’Anatolia di Narco.

As we stopped to wait on a bench outside a house, the owner came out and talked to us for a little while. She was horrified to learn we were waiting for a taxi. You will be robbed! You should just walk to where you’re staying…it’s not far! 

As the taxi was already coming, I assured her that we would be ok. But she turned out to be right. The driver charged me five times what he had quoted me. (We opted to walk back to the crossroads the following morning.)

But we were grateful for the ride after all the extra miles of the day. And we loved the beautifully restored convent where we spent the night.

And our host sent us around the corner to have dinner in a small trattoria where all our food was divine.

Of course, everything tastes better when you walk all day.

Day 2: Ceselli to Spoleto

12 miles (+4 back to the trail)

3000 ft

The next morning we started out with a visit to small shop for lunch snacks and then our walk back to the crossroads from the previous day. The four miles back was fairly flat and easy, and it wouldn’t be until much later in the day that we would feel the extra miles we added on in the morning.

Once we reached the crossroads at Ceselli, we had a big climb west into the hills. Gratefully, it was a beautiful day with no rain in sight.

We climbed all morning up into the woods, on switchbacks and rocky paths to get higher and higher.

The views were beautiful over the valley from which we had come. Even though this was by far our hardest day, it was also a gorgeous walk.

We climbed all the way up to a small chapel where a man who calls himself a modern day monk lives a simple existence in the hills. He serves up coffee and tea for a small donation. We filled our water bottles and chatted a while before continuing the last little bit of the climb to the top.

Once you crest the hill, you come down into Monteluco where St Francis set up one of many monasteries in the area.

You can actually visit this one and wander around through the ancient halls to see where St Francis and his fellow companions spent their days.

The cells are so tiny. It is wild to imagine a daily existence in these little rooms. We didn’t linger for as long as I would have liked.

A long descent to town was still ahead of us before our walking day would finish.

But I loved seeing the quiet refuge and would happily return for a longer visit.

There is also a sacred forest surrounding the monastery. It has been a place of walking meditation and prayer since St Francis’ day.

After leaving Monteluco, the path down to Spoleto seemed to go on forever.

This was definitely the moment we felt the extra four miles of the morning. Though they had been easy miles, they were making these last few all the more grueling.

But it was a sweet moment when we saw the bridge to cross over into the town of Spoleto!

This bridge has been recently restored after being closed for many years. We were so grateful as an alternate route around the city would have been unbearable at this moment. As it was, we still had a little ways to go to another convent where we were staying for the night.

We stopped for a drink to enjoy the view and to celebrate finishing up a 16 mile day!

Spoleto is beautiful! And if we were not walking away the next morning, we could have found plenty to occupy ourselves with, but we needed only a meal and a bed before we would head on our way.

We found both. The convent where we stayed seemed like two more miles away though it was only about half a mile. That’s how the end of the day always is. We had dinner in a place where there is no menu. The owner’s mother just cooks food in courses of whatever is in season. It was a small restaurant but every seat was taken. We were lucky to get squeezed in at the last minute.

The food just kept on coming! Every time a new dish would come out, we would wonder if we should be saving room for the next one. There was no way to know.

When I asked the host how many courses were left, he just shrugged his shoulders and said it was up to the cook.

Soon we were so full that we couldn’t possibly face another plate of food. We tried to pass some of our extra off to tables around us as we didn’t want to offend.

By the end of dinner, we were laughing so hard. We were deliriously tired and we could not eat one more bite of food.

Finally, our host released us, stamping a placemat multiple times with the sign of St Francis as we had left our pilgrim books at the convent.

Then we rolled ourselves down the hill to find our much-desired beds.

Day 3: Spoleto to Poreta

10 miles

2000 ft

The next morning we had a somewhat meager breakfast served by nuns at the convent.

Afterwards, I ran down the street to a shop to get some extra lunch supplies as I knew we would be hungry again soon.

Also, I grabbed a few things to cook that night for dinner as we were staying out in the middle of nowhere but we would have a kitchen.

Then we set off through Spoleto and into the countryside where we were quickly surrounded by olive trees.

Olive groves became a theme for the rest of our trip. We walked through and around and alongside olive trees for the next four days.

It was another blue sky, beautiful day. We still had some climbing to do, but it was spread out over the day instead of all at once like the day before.

We had our lunch in the sun on the steps of a church in a little village.

There was actually a tiny little shop in the village so we grabbed some wine to have with our dinner that night. You had to ring a bell for the shopkeeper to come and open it up for you as she lived next door.

Whenever I walk with these ladies, I have to work in extra time for all the dog greetings.

This group stops for all the animals, but especially dogs.

But we made it to our little farm stay in the country by early afternoon. The farm had a swimming pool.

It was still a little too cool to swim, but perfect napping weather.

We were miles from anywhere, so I made us some lentil vegetable soup which we had with bread and wine.

We played cards and all enjoyed not having to leave to go find a restaurant for dinner.

Day 4: Poreta to Trevi

8 miles

1700 ft

The next morning we set off from the farm through more olive trees.

We passed a couple who was harvesting their olives. When we stopped to watch, they invited us to join in.

So we stopped for a little while and harvested olives, which was actually so fun.

They were pulling the olives off with little toy rakes like you play with at the beach. We all grabbed one and started raking the olives onto the nets on the ground.

Of course, raking olives for a few minutes is not the same as doing it all day. Such hard work for precious olive oil.

We soon told the farmer goodbye and headed off on our way. We saw several more olive harvests happening as we walked. Some farmers had machines that shook the olives off the trees.

We walked around an old walled town, Campello sul Clitunno. We briefly considered a detour, but decided to continue on towards Trevi, which we could soon see in the distance.

Before getting to Trevi we climbed the trail to another old convent. The convent and its inhabitants were locked away behind a big stone wall and a large gate. There was a bell to ring if you were hoping to gain entry.

Even though it was our shortest day, it seemed a like the town took a long while to get closer to us and then we had to climb up into it. But it was worth it as we all loved our stay in Trevi.

We had our rooms in the old center of town in what felt like an old palazzo. We found a square with a table in the sun for drinks and a rest before exploring the rest of town.

Because we had a slightly shorter walking day, we had a little steam left to enjoy walking around Trevi, which was one of my favorite stops of the whole walk.

After a shower and a rest, we went back out for dinner. In addition to a lovely meal, we found a street named for St Francis!

Day 5: Trevi to Spello

12 miles

1300 ft

As we walked away from Trevi the next morning, we stopped at a viewpoint to take some photos. Then our host drove by and spotted us, so he stopped to take our photo for us.

We hadn’t actually seen him the evening before, so we told him how much we enjoyed our stay and loved our rooms. He wished us well and told us to come back again to Trevi.

We stopped in the next village for coffee, which was a treat. This day felt a little Camino-esque because there were places to stop along the way.

We went through another bigger town (Foligno) where I had to put blinders on the gals so they wouldn’t wander into the shops.

I marched them on through, so we managed to get to Spello in time for a late lunch.

We still had our snacks in an olive grove, and many hours along country paths under bright skies.

And so many olives!

It was another hill climb to town, so when we reached Spello, we sat down in the first chairs we saw to have a rest and some snacks.

This day actually felt warm, so I ordered gelato for the first time and it was delightful.

We ended up exploring Spello a little bit after lunch before we walked to where we were staying.

Our rooms were outside of the old town.

Per usual, it felt much longer on the way there than on the way back in the next morning.

So we bought a picnic dinner from the store on the way out there.

We were in some little cottages on the outskirts of town that had cute little porches where we watched the sunset as Spello turned pink in the distance.

Over dinner we decided we would split up the next day as there is an easy way and a hard way into Assisi.

Day 6: Spello to Assisi
8-10 miles
1400-3000 ft (depending on the route)

For the harder route, you climb over a hill and descend into Assisi from the mountain. On the easier route, you stay low and skirt the hill.

Three of us took the easier route, and I sent my two ambitious gals off for the ascent.

On our final walking morning, we went back through Spello together and then split up at a fork in the road.

So for three of us, it was a leisurely last day into Assisi. We stopped for lunch in an olive grove.

And we meandered along the final steps of the way at a gentle pace.

We arrived just in time to check into an apartment we rented for a couple of nights.

We had a little garden where we could sit in the sun and rest and wait for friends to arrive.

The longer route turned out to be quite a bit longer and they didn’t arrive until almost 6pm. So we had an early dinner and saved going to the church for our official finish the next morning.

We were all glad to be reunited and had a fun evening catching up and playing cards.

The next morning we headed off to explore Assisi and get our pilgrim books stamped at the end of the route.

I’ve written before about how much I love Assisi. It was much busier this time than when I was last there. But it’s still just beautiful and you can always find a quiet corner or spot to people watch.

We ate well in Assisi. First, a beautiful lunch outside.

And then some gorgeous pizza for dinner on our last night together.

The pizza place served the biggest calzones I have ever seen.

We celebrated another beautiful week of walking together in a new place!

I would return to the St Francis Way again as I loved the section we walked.

And also there is plenty more of the trail to explore.

Thanks to Diane, Rhonda, Patti and Kathy for trusting me to lead them on this pilgrimage!

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The post St Francis Way: Walking to Assisi appeared first on Alison Chino.

I was meant to be flying home from Italy today after a week of walking in Umbria and a week of retreating in Tuscany. 

It’s strange how far away that feels as a possibility now. I do believe I will return to Italy one day, but I am not sure when or how. And I wonder how much will have changed when I go.

To mark the time that we would have been walking in Italy, my friend Kandace and I decided to do our walk virtually. 

So for the last 14 days of April, we walked in our respective neighborhoods, mimicking the number of miles we would have been walking together in Italy. We had planned to walk the Way of Saint Francis, to return to beloved Assisi and to read and study a book about the poor little man while we walked. 

So instead, we walked around our neighborhoods, listening to and studying the book, and texting each other photos and quotes. Our “walking while sheltering” was a small effort towards not retreating completely inside of ourselves during this shut-at-home time, and even though we were not walking together in Italy, it was a sweet honoring of what could have been and what might still be one day. 

And perhaps more importantly, it was an honoring of what is. It was our humble offering to the reality of this present moment. 

We looked at our plans, and after plenty of bemoaning about what we could not do, we said: well, here is what we can do. 

In this now moment.

Under these current circumstances.

With what we have. 

On the first day, I set out from my house in the snow, uncertain of whether we would keep it up or even if it was a good idea. 

A small beginning. 

5 miles around my neighborhood. 

Then, when I got home, I sat down with a cup of tea and read Chapter 1 of Eager to Love: The Alternative Way of Francis of Assisi by Richard Rohr. It is a book I have lived in this last year, and it opens itself up to me anew with every reading. 

In a shared Google doc, Kandace and I typed out our favorite quotes, reflections on the day, questions about the reading, and comments to each other. 

Then we did it again the next day. And the next.

About the fourth day, after covering 10 miles, we found that we had both surprised ourselves by our commitment to the miles we had listed out ahead of time in our Google doc. A testimony to the power of writing down a goal. 

We were really, actually walking the number of miles each day that we had said we would try to do.

Sometimes, I did the miles all at once and some days I broke them up into morning and evening walks. I walked mostly alone, but some evening the boys came along.

Some days I journaled and journaled about the reading or the walking and other days I fell into bed without writing anything at all. 

It was kind of just like how it would be on any walk.

One day I fixed a fancy-ish Italian lunch for my family because I was missing how you stop for lunch in restaurants along the way on walks in Europe. 

One day Kandace walked to a favorite smoothie bar. 

We both walked to coffee shops and picked up take-out coffees. 

On the day we were meant to walk into Assisi, I found an outdoor labyrinth to walk to. The walk there ended up being on a long stretch of busy road that made for a fairly unpleasant six or seven miles. 

But I finally found the labyrinth, a design mowed into a field that I would have walked right by if I had not been searching for it.

I sat down in the middle after walking to the center to just be still with my creaky legs for a while. The grass was wet and it soaked through my hiking trousers. 

It was decidedly not the same as entering the glory of Assisi. 

But it was what it was.

After a while, I got up and traced the pattern back out from the center to the exit. I walked back out onto the busy road, called Taido and asked him to pick me up.

It was a rather anticlimactic end to an imagined walk with Saint Francis.

It took me several days to remember that the end is never the reason I really do a walk anyway. Of course, I do love to arrive at a new place.

But the journey is what I really love. 

The miles on the way are the good stuff. 

On the way is where I heard Richard Rohr teach me to let go (again).

On the way is where I found the strength to wake up and walk out my front door when it was raining or snowing or I was just tired.

On the way is where I faced my fears about the limitations of my body.

On the way is where I learned again that I don’t really know anything. Even the same walk in my neighborhood that I thought I knew keeps changing everyday.

As we all stand on this threshold of not knowing what will happen,

Of blessed uncertainty,

And holy mess,

I am hopeful that walking these last two weeks of April will help me continue to stay

on the way.

To see that this present moment is where the good stuff is. 

If I will accept it,

as it is.

Now it’s May, and perhaps I will spend a little less time bemoaning what I cannot do.

I am ready to say again:

Well, here is what I can do. 

In this now moment.

Under these current circumstances.

With what I have. 

Onward.

The post Walking The Way While Sheltering At Home appeared first on Alison Chino.

What can I say about Assisi?

I hardly know where to begin.

Maybe it’s best to start with the ending.

As I left the convent in Assisi, the same nun who welcomed me in, took hold of my face and kissed me twice, blessing me on my way.

With tears in my eyes, I opened the door from the monastery into the tiny courtyard where my car was parked. The nun opened the gate for me and waited while I slowly negotiated pulling my car through the gate, out onto the street facing the Basilica of St Francis and up the road through town that led to the nearest arched exit way.

I drove slowly, but confidently, nothing like I had driven into the city two days ago, afraid and unsure. Or sure that I was going to hit a wall or another car, or even worse, a person.

I had laughed on the phone to my son the night I arrived, that if any of the kids had been in the car with me, they would have been yelling at me and saying there was no way I was supposed to be driving on these roads.

I had arrived at noon on a Sunday, probably not the best time to drive through tiny streets filled with pilgrims to Assisi. But faithfully following my map, I drove higher and higher, until I was right in front of the most famous church in Assisi and heard the words “You have arrived at your destination.”

I had no idea where I was supposed to go. I was in the middle of a road filled with people and no place to park, when a small gate to my left opened up so that a car could exit the courtyard. Had a car not pulled out, I’m not sure I would have known to pull in, or how to get the gate open or even that the gate was for me to enter.

This small miracle of the gate opening just as I arrived is what my entire visit to Assisi was like.

The same sister that kissed me when I left watched me park my car and welcomed me in. She spoke only one phrase in English (Everything is ok?), but somehow managed to communicate to me without words that I was welcome, that I must be tired from the journey, that I could find rest here.

Slowly and deliberately, she led me to my room on the top floor.

My window looked out over the roof and caught the far left edge of the Basilica.

It was my favorite of all the rooms I stayed in on my trip to Italy (which is maybe why I have 92 pictures of it). I can’t describe why I loved it so much.

Maybe it was the replica of St Francis’ famous cross on the wall.

The simple wooden desk.

The old wardrobe that had extra pillows and blankets.

The sweetly made bed.

The way soft light came in the window at sunset.

Or the way the colors of the roof tiles seemed to change throughout the day.

I don’t know, but I could have stayed in my room the entire time I was in Assisi and been happy. I can’t think of a more perfect place for a silent retreat.

Except maybe for the place where St Francis himself enjoyed silence and solitude, the forests above the city of Assisi, in the shadow of Mt Subasio.

About an hour’s walk up the mountain from Assisi is a Hermitage (Eremo delle Carceri) where St Francis and his companions enjoyed communing with God.

A statue of him welcomes you to the silent, sacred woods.

You can descend into the caves where he prayed. You can step on the ground where he walked.

I walked these quiet woods for a couple of hours, noticing the remnants left by those who’d come before me: crosses made of sticks, stacks of rocks, prayer cards and rosaries.

I wondered how many folks have come and left their worries and woes among these stones and trees.

I only saw a few others there (maybe 5) and only on the main path through the Hermitage.

Many trails left the main path, up and down the mountain. They were all marked with funny signs, warning that you shouldn’t undertake to walk the steeper trails unless you are trained. I am certainly not “trained” but I dared to trek off the main trail to see the caves where saints hid away. I hid myself for a while from a passing rain shower and to lift my own prayers.

I stacked rocks that probably no one but God will ever see, piece by piece. One for each of my loved ones.

I had already visited the churches of St Francis and St Claire the day before, the hallowed, holy places where their remains are laid, but I think maybe there is something more of them in the woods, in the quiet Hermitage.

I had walked on the road to get up to Eremo delle Carceri, but I took the official Via Francesco through the woods back to Assisi.

I’ve been reading a biography of St Francis while traveling and I was carrying it with me, so I stopped on the trail down to read a few chapters and eat my picnic lunch.

All day the sun played hide and seek with me, so when it was out, I would find a spot to soak up its warmth and dry out my damp jeans.

After I found my way back into Assisi, I wandered around aimlessly taking photos.

So this seems like a good place to insert a LOT of pictures of Assisi:

After a while I went and found a quiet corner of the Basilica. The Basilica of St Francis is divided into the Upper and Lower Basilicas, and the walls of the upper one are covered in 28 fresco paintings of Francis’ life (all by the famous painter Giotto).

Every time I walked through the church, I would look for whatever scene I had just read about from the biography. This time I sat next to the fresco of St. Francis kneeling in front of the Crucifix of San Damiano, from which he heard the voice of Jesus speaking to him.

I’m reading Paul Sabatier’s biography of Saint Francis, which was written in 1894, so there are modern notes from the editor throughout. (The biography has been so beloved that Paul Sabatier even has a street named after him in Assisi.)

It’s been such a lovely companion to my time in Italy and especially in Assisi. After I read about St. Francis giving away all his clothes in the market square, I walked through that very square and back into the church to see the painting of this scene.

When I read about St. Francis leaving Assisi through the Porta Nuova, I walked to that gate to see the blessing from him written on the walls.

After hearing about his journey to Rome to get his Rule approved, I went to see the painting of his meeting with the Pope.

I went twice to the Church of St. Claire to sit in front of the very Crucifix that played such an important role in St. Francis’ conversion.

And I saw the habit he wore, made out of rough brown wool, hanging next to the clothes of St Claire.

The stories were brought to life all over the town. When I first arrived in town I climbed to the north edge of town to see the old castle, Rocca Maggiore, where you can see the whole city of Assisi.

The town of Assisi is not really that large, less than a mile long and even shorter in width, so I walked it several times during my stay, always making my way back to the sweet little room at the top of the convent of Angelina di Montegiove.

My next project will be to read something more of her. There was a note up in the convent that explained that she began this order of Franciscan sisters to be a more open group of women, so that they might be a refuge for mothers and sisters who found themselves without protection after the death of a husband or a father. Her idea of being less closed off to the world around her was somewhat radical in her time, and in fact, was rejected at first, but she succeeded in founding the order in 1403.

The sister I met certainly carried on her legacy. At breakfast, she walked around the room touching us all and wishing us well. Whenever I saw her, she would look directly into my eyes and softly say,

“Everything is ok?”

And somehow, even with all the things in the world that are decidedly not ok, I could smile back at her and nod, sincerely feeling that in those moments, yes, everything is ok.

I’ll leave you with the prayer of St. Francis that is posted in front of the Crucifix of San Damiano:

Most High, glorious God,

enlighten the darkness of my heart and give me

true faith,

certain hope,

and perfect charity,

sense and knowledge, Lord, that I may carry out

Your holy and true command.

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The post Snapshots of Assisi, Italy appeared first on Alison Chino.