Orchids

Orchids hunters in The Pollino National Park

The agriturismo is a bit tricky to find, said his chatty e-mail. Just make your way to Rotonda’s central piazza, phone or ask for me in any bar.  So we did, wandering around the small town centre until Peppe Cosenza found us, guided by helpful locals.  Welcome to Asklepios, the smallest agriturismo in Italy!   Built by his parents in the 1960’s on their small farm, it has two sizeable rooms for guests and a dining kitchen where Peppe provided breakfasts and cooked delicious frittatas for picnic lunches.  He has a degree in agriculture, is a registered guide for the National Park and leads groups for international holiday companies.

Too scared of Neapolitan drivers, we had taken the train from Naples to Maratea and hired a car from there.  We had chosen to come in May, hoping to coincide with the flush of flowers in the high meadows.  The drive inland certainly whetted our appetite when we found swathes of wild orchids by the roadside – Bee, Italian man and Pyramidal as well as Serapias amid the intense blue of tasselled hyacinths.  

Peppe tested our stamina the following day.  The Colle dell’Impiso is only 12 km distant as the red kite flies, but must include a record number of hairpin bends on its steeply undulating route.  We set off on foot from here, making gradual ascent of Monte Pollino through beechwoods, interspersed with open grassland carpeted with all shades of violas and buttercups.  Grazing cattle had recently been herded up from their winter quarters to the lower meadows, and would move uphill as the higher grass matured.  Spring squill and Crocus albiflorus were emerging where the snow patches had recently retreated.

This National Park, the largest in Italy with around 192,000 hectares, was founded in 1991 mainly to preserve the remaining Loricata (Bosnian) pine trees.  We reached the first of them at around 1800m, magnificent and wind-contorted, some thought to be over a thousand years old.  The characteristic grey bark on each sturdy trunk is said to resemble the armour plating of Roman soldiers, each small plate smooth and dense. The pines became more dispersed as we ascended further to the high meadows, some with dead, silvery branches.  No signs of regeneration here, though it is happening on more remote mountainsides.  The massive depressions on the upper slopes were dolinas, carved by meltwater eating though the limestone over thousands of years.  Most still held snow, encrusted with a brown filigree of sepals blown from the beech trees below.  We wandered happily from one ancient tree to another, finding oriental fritillaries in bloom and enjoying the vistas.

Peppe advised us where we should find the best flower meadows, so we had a few memorable days on the mountain slopes.  Walking from the Rifugio Fasanelli westwards through beechwoods, we came to the rocky outcrop of Monte di Grasta at 1485m, awash with colour – sheets of yellow potentilla, a haze of blue alkanet and the rosy shades of pink hawksbeard and geraniums.  There were white spires of asphodel by the wood verges and woodruff in the understorey.  Cuckoos called all day from the woods below and cowbells tinkled in the distance.  Further away above Voscari, the Piano di Sopra is a huge meadow around 1,100m.  At first glimpse it seemed bare with little growth by the roadside, but each little depression revealed more and more flowers, including masses of orchids – Fragrant, Sawfly, Toothed, Green-winged, Four-spotted, Heath spotted and Provence as well as three types of Serapias.  We spent hours moving from one undulation to the next, avoiding the herd of horned cattle in shades of cream to dark brown, which systematically grazed the short, new grass.

The town of Morano Calabro is just outside the National Park, but holds the Nibbio (red kite) Interpretive Centre for the area.  It is a series of renovated ancient dwellings, with rooms of well-labelled stuffed birds and animals of the area, a vast collection of butterflies and beetles as well as ancient artefacts.  The ruined castle nearby proved an ideal picnic spot, looking north to the Monte Pollino range over the fertile valley of the river Coscile.  Goldfinches twittered among the tress while swallowtail and false swallowtail butterflies flew strongly on the updraughts.  We had the Piano Ruggio to ourselves on the way back.  It is among the highest of the great meadows at around 1500m, gently sloping downwards to the north.  Here thousands of giant asphodel in bud appeared like spears, and the last of Poet’s narcissi could be found in the shady areas by the woodland rim.  Swathes of lemon, violet and deepest purple violas appeared among the shorter grassland with Meadow saxifrage on the rocky outcrops.

On a second day in the capable hands of Peppe, we drove along the Mercure valley to Viggianello, with its smart new piazza and church renovations.  A steep path through the park took us uphill on a quest for the rare Iris collina.  Once we spotted the first one it seemed to be all around, delicate flowers of deepest blue. The crown of the hill was a mass of yellow, highly scented Spanish broom and an ideal spot to view the undulating landscape below. We stopped on one of the high ridges later on, where white lupins and serapias were found among the bushes. On then to Bosco Magnano, a wooded area near San Severino. It must be popular in season, judging by the number of roadside cafes and picnic areas.  We picked and ate wild strawberries in the oakwoods and wandered along the banks of the river Peschiera to its confluence with the Frido as hoopoes called nearby.  On the journey back by the Serra della Manca, the valley below shimmered in the evening light as our appetites developed.

Good food is an essential part of any holiday in Italy, and we were not disappointed.  Da Peppe’s, a restaurant in Rotonda is well known for its local specialties. The antipasto of two cheeses, home-made salamis and pickled red aubergine was a meal in itself, but we managed to relish the remaining courses in extended evenings of sheer enjoyment.  The Pizzeria nearby was excellent too, highly popular for its takeaways, but the wait for service was worthwhile.  Well fed, we would soon be lulled to sleep by the calling of nightingales.

It was hard to leave Asklepios.  Peppe’s mother had arrived in the early morning with her brother, and soon zucchinis were being planted with tomatoes to follow, and poles erected for three varieties of beans.  We were sent off with cherries from their own tree as well as food for the journey.  As directed, we took the pilgrimage route to Madonna del Pollino high above the village of Salice.  The easy way would be to continue by car, but we chose to clamber up the steep, limestone gorge of the Gola Jannace, crossing and re-crossing the river and its many waterfalls.  Once up to the Rifugio Pino Loricato, 1537m  it was all downhill again, through the series of modern halls, restaurants and residences for pilgrims.  The massive white cement statue, arms spread in blessing, had a superb view across to the mountain range and the series of valleys which had been our route.  The road eastwards from here over the high pass was not for the fearful driver – road metal disappeared and edges subsided, but fortunately there was no oncoming traffic until near our destination, Terranova di Pollino.

Pino Golia, proprietor of the Hotel Picchio Nero looked after us well and his mother’s cooking was superb. It was strange to be among English speaking groups after a week of being the only tourists around.  We were still on a quest to find the elusive Lizard orchid, so he directed us to the high meadows by Timpa di Pietrosasso within walking distance above the village.  Here they were just beside the path, much to our delight.  Higher up were undulating meadows with dog roses, holly bushes nibbled into pyramidal shapes, wet flushes with Toothed, Green-winged, Elder-flowered, Heath spotted, Early purple, Frog and Butterfly orchids as well as Serapias.  We dozed on dry ground at the highest point of the hill, while large raptors wheeled below and later watched a red kite as it quartered the ground looking for supper.

Our last day – the holiday passed too quickly and there was a long way to drive back to Maratea.  An excellent road ran eastward downhill, then we took a hairpin-bend detour to San Paulo Albanese.  This is one of the several villages in the area founded by Albanians in the 16th century.  Several elderly women wore long skirts, thick black tights and headsquares tied at the back of the neck, with one sitting on her doorstep preparing vegetables donned in a white, frilled and lacy blouse.  The narrow lanes were lined with higgelty-piggelty houses, many supported by wooden struts.  Back on the good roads and through the tunnel to the valley of the much-braided Sinni river, and the journey westwards.  A great holiday!