Via Francigena: Days 18 & 19: Fidenza To Fornovo

Felegara and the river Taro. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

Early next day Giacomo accompanied me almost to the edge of Fidenza before returning to the railway station. He had to catch a train to visit his grandmother in Tuscany. After some pleasant walking I stopped for lunch in Costamezzana — which lay on a hill! Although this was hardly the Apennines yet, the countryside was more rolling and varied, and I was enjoying it immensely. I cast a look behind me at the great Po plain, and felt pleased and proud I had withstood its heat and its desolation and its biting insects without going even slightly mad (though some may dispute this). Here the upland air had a welcome freshness and a lack of oppression, though it was still very warm.

Lulled into a false sense of security by the lunchtime wine and pasta, I promptly took the wrong road out of Costamezzana (in my defence it was heading approximately in the right direction). I knew I'd made a mistake because the Camino signs had disappeared, and I should really have turned back, but I didn't, and I was also too lazy to pull my guide book out of my pack. This is so typical of me. 

Eventually I came across a tree-felling gang by the roadside and asked them if I was going the right way to Medesano. Apparently I was, and all I had to do was turn left at the top of the next hill and follow the road along the ridge. I did this, and at first everything went swimmingly. However, I decided rather foolishly to take a farmer's track marked 'Private Road' into the valley, where I could see a major road which I was sure would take me directly to Medesano. I hadn't reckoned with the loose dog which rushed at me from an open gate halfway along the track. This, my third scary dog encounter of the trip, was by far the worst. He was a big, Alsatian-type brute, and put on the usual display of barking and growling and baring of teeth. I held my walking pole horizontally between myself and the beast, and backed off down the lane, facing him all the while and trying to utter soothing words in a firm and steady (probably, in reality, slightly quavering) voice: 

'Now, please go away, you'll get into trouble for this, you won't like the taste of English flesh, anyhow your master's waiting for you indoors with a big bowl of pig's blood, so just, just . . . CLEAR OFF!' 

After much of this kind of negotiation I found the distance between us was increasing, and eventually I was able to turn my back on him and continue smartly down the hill . . .

           

Confluence of the river Ceno and the river Taro at Fornovo. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

Medesano was an unprepossessing place, and I was glad to leave the next morning. The way now shadowed the main road to Felegara, where a bakery shop owner/assistant made up two cheese sandwiches for me (bread shops would usually offer to make sandwiches on the spot with whatever fillings were available). I then branched left towards the river Taro and followed a delightful path along the river bank to Fornovo. I noticed that the river, which could be a raging torrent in the winter months, had all but dried up. Fornovo, a small town of 6000 inhabitants with an attractive old quarter, was situated in the foothills of the Apennines, so I knew that I would be gaining some serious height the next day. That night I slept in a B&B in Respiccio, just beyond Fornovo.

Church of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary at Fornovo. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

Via Francigena: Days 16 & 17: Piacenza To Fidenza

The Church of San Fiorenzo in Fiorenzuola. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

I left Piacenza's Piazza Cavalli the next morning encouraged by a lady on a bicycle who called out: 'Buon Camino!' The departure from Piacenza was long and unpleasant. After Piazza Roma with its Romulus and Remus statue, and the tedious suburbs of San Lazzaro and Montale, I had to risk life and limb for several kilometres on the busy highway of the SS9. There was no proper footpath, and I was actually quite frightened. I cursed the Camino planners for not devising a safer route. Finally, after a bridge over the river Nure, I took a back road and could relax. In Pontenure a street market had been set up, and a fish stall was selling fried fish and chips! It was a long time since I'd eaten this English favourite. I made the most of it and tucked in.

For the rest of the afternoon I followed a piecemeal route largely of my own making, for the way was poorly marked and the guide book unclear. The main problem was how to cross the three rivers between Pontenure and Fiorenzuola: the Riglio, the Chero, and the Chiavenna. The countryside was dead flat, and the roads dead straight, and sometimes I felt I was getting nowhere. However, with a combination of intuition, good luck and sheer persistence, I eventually ended up in Fiorenzuola's delightful main square, the Piazza Molinari, feeling a little frazzled — but very happy to have arrived.

 

Piazza Garibaldi in Fidenza. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

In the refuge near the church of San Fiorenzo I met Giacomo, a curly-haired Italian student from Modena, and later we sat in the piazza and had a couple of beers. We walked together all the next day. He was polite and charming, and we talked a great deal — his English was very good. We could now see the Apennine mountains in the distance, and this spurred us on as we continued crossing the usual agricultural flatlands. That night we slept in a tiny refuge opposite the cathedral of San Donnino in Fidenza and ate in a Catholic-run canteen providing meals for refugees, the poor and the unemployed. Afterwards, drinking beers in a posh bar, we reflected on how lucky we were.

The Town Hall and Garibaldi Obelisk in Fidenza. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

The highlight of the day had been the Cistercian abbey of Chiaravalle. Founded in 1135, it's one of the first examples of Gothic architecture in Italy. It was simply stunning, and we spent some time looking round and absorbing its peaceful atmosphere. There was plenty of the ubiquitous red brick and terracotta, and the cloister was particularly fine, with its pink marble columns fashioned like twisted rope and its exquisitely carved capitals. There were some wonderful paintings too, including Bernardino Luini's Madonna della Buonanotte. In former times the monks of Chiaravalle had developed a hard, granular cheese called grana — consequently it is them we have to thank for Gran Padano and Parmigiano Reggiano.

The abbey church of Chiaravalle. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

The church bell tower. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)

Bernardino Luini's Madonna delle Buonanotte. (Image from Wikimedia Commons.)