As I put the same outfit on for the 3rd day in a row and prepared to leave my lovely room in the medieval village of Pigna, Italy for what would be our highest ride, I embraced my newly simplified life. It was certainly easier to pack and get ready without any options of what to wear. Of course, I also felt thankful that I had tucked my toiletries in my saddle bag, which was still with me.
I was happy that this was the outfit I had on when my bag went missing in the forest: a navy smart wool zip top, because smart wool breathes well and it never smells and my new navy down for a run vest from Lululemon as well as my pants, because they are my most comfy jodhpurs from the French mega sport store Decathlon. These pieces held up to days of branches, thorns, dirt and sweat glow like nobodies business.
The vest is lightweight, fitted and designed longer than most, so it gives just the right amount of coverage. It also has a great pocket structure, I kept my iphone and my Jackie Ohh sunglasses in each of the deep stretchy side slots for easy access. I kept other smaller trail essentials like lip gloss, kleenex, etc. in the zippered pockets which also had a tiny internal pocket, perfect for storing candied ginger to feed to fabulous Usalaine after a particularly rough climb or run.
I know, the specs may not seem like the right choice for an athletic endeavour, but they have served me well. I have sensitive eyes so I like the full coverage, and they are relatively lightweight for the size. I wore them on my Botswana ride and wear them for tennis all the time. It may be time for a replacement however, since they were stepped on by a large mammal who shall remain nameless. The only thing I don’t like is the white Rayban logo on the lens, so I color over it with a black Sharpie.
On this day we left the fortified walls of Pigna, and started heading back towards France along the Alta Via dei Monti Liguri {The High Path on the Ligurian Mountains}. From high in the mountains we had a glimpse down at Rochetta Nervina, where I said a quiet farewell to my bag of worldly goods, and didn’t look back, little did I know that it was on it’s way back to me.
Throughout our journey we were constantly reminded of the Alpen lifestyle practiced by the Italian, French and Swiss pastoral people in these hills for hundreds of years.
The word “Alps” actually refers to the high mountain pastures that spread below the glaciers and peaks. Each spring the people herd their animals from the lowlands up to the high pastures allowing them graze on the fresh spring grasses and plants.
This was a culture of farmers, cheese makers and woodworkers.
They would collect field stones to build the dry stone walls to create terraced gardens where they would grow crops like wine grapes, olives and citrus.
One of the most impressive ruins was at our highest point where we stopped for lunch that day.
This was probably the largest ruin that we came across.
Like the other remains we found along our path it had been carefully constructed of logs and field stones.
The door at the base of the house led to a giant arched cavern which is probably where they stored the cheeses they made from the goat and cow milk. They carefully pieced the stones together, securing them up against against this natural stone wall which was the foundation of their summer residence.
The people lived in this space above the cellar with an elegant arched window
that provided an incredible view to the valley below and looking out to the Mediterranean Sea during their stay from spring until early fall.
The harsh winter storms have blown away the traditional slate roof that probably protected this floor at one time.
Today, that pastoral culture still exists. But hikers, bikers and riders also pursue this glorious, colorful setting.
A network of Rifugios, offer a rustic and welcoming setting to sleep and eat and meet others on the route. We passed the Gola di Gouta that day and it’s actually supposed to be quite charming and offers tasty, hearty Italian fare that bring people back each year {click on Ristorante Gola di Gouta for the Tripadvisor reviews}.
Hunters and foragers also venture up to these hills.
The routes are fairly well signed.
Small chapels can be found all along the way.
I loved the unique connection to these historic, expansive forested and pastured mountains,
that comes with crossing them on the back of a horse, and on foot, just as others have for centuries.
We descended into the town of Airole, Liguria to collect another rider {remember, there are no subtitles for this movie, so I was just going with the flow, not knowing what to expect entirely}. Then I was sort of giggling as we trotted down the route to Limone, a road I’ve driven with my Italian friends when visiting that beautiful Italian ski resort with them. It was just such a contrast to be riding a horse down this road rather than being in a car.
It was growing dark by this time, so it took awhile to find our turn off from the main road. When we did, we bushwhacked our way up a muddy trail beside a stream until we reached Olivetta San Michelle. Agro Tourisme is popular in this area and La Casa di Remo offers many ways to enjoy this rustic lifestyle. Scott had reserved a small villa on this expansive olive grove. The owners had set up a dinner for us to heat and we let the horses go in their olive grove.
Of course, I had to ask them about the large barrels I saw around the property. They enthusiastically invited me into a well lit basement where there were many more barrels filled with delicious, freshly cured Niçoise olives, they gave us a big bowl to enjoy with our dinner.
On this day we travelled 19.57 miles.
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