Safe Return Doubtful

The lake at Piediluco is home to Italy’s National Rowing Federation, and this morning the Paralympic team was training, along with their Romanian counterparts. It was a fine cold morning, just above zero when Roja and I took our morning walk along the Via di Francesca, which at this point semi-circumnavigates the lake.

I got talking to one of the Romanian coaches, who told me quite a bit about the sport I didn’t know, for example how the four categories of Paralympic rowing are amongst the most popular of Paralympic sports. They are building towards Paris in late August.

Just a few kilometres down the road from the lake are the waterfalls at Mamore. Fortunately, on a January Monday morning the ticket booths are closed, and the parking attendant, who was collecting the weekend coins, told me not to bother paying anything. I was the only one there.

I’ve seen quite a few waterfalls in my time, at Gulfoss when biking Iceland, Iguazu when on football tour in Paraguay, Niagara when in Syracuse for a Rolling Stones concert, and I always find them underwhelming. The kids with me at Iguazu spent most of the time photographing the capybaras rather than the waterfall. I think it’s because I prefer to see a fast river in speight after heavy rain, which happens quite a lot in the Cumbrian fells, although Huilo Huilo, in Patagonia is etched into my memory also.

The Mamore falls though, are not a natural phenomenon, but a work of human ingenuity constructed in 271 BC, with the purpose of reclaiming the Rieti plain from the marshes of the Velini lakes above, through an artificial canal. In the 11th century the canal was intentionally obstructed, to reform the marshes. They were reopened as one of the sights and stopovers on the Grand Tour between the 17th and 19th centuries. Since the 19th century the water has powered several hydroelectric plants.

I continued north around the city of Terni, roughly following the Via di Francesca, into Tuscany, and the village of Bagno Vignoni, a small village known for its hot springs.

At the heart of the village is the “Square of sources”, a rectangular tank, of sixteenth-century origin, which contains the original source of water that comes from the subterranean volcanic origins, used since Roman times. The waters have been used by famous Italians over the centuries, from Popes to painters, but these days the village has two exclusive five star spa hotels, and the associated Tuscan restaurants.

Most of the year, and for every weekend, campervans and motorhomes are banished to a park-up a couple of kilometres away, and treated as riff-raff. But it’s a cold Monday in January, and other than a few Japanese at the hotels, who wanted selfies with Roja. I’m the only person here, so illegally parked just above the village.