Path of the Wayfarer, Lake Como
The Sentiero del Viandante has an important, legendary name. But today, as he tied his shoes with an air of conviction and I tried to figure out how long the journey would take, it seemed to me more like a polite way of saying: “We’re going up. And we’re not joking around.”
We started from Bellano, right there near the Orrido. He pointed it out to me with enthusiasm: “Look at what a natural wonder!”. I looked out, took a quick sniff of the humid air and thought: but what is this, the Halloween preview? Dark caves, water cascading down, slippery rocks… All we needed was an owl and we could make a movie. But yes, fascinating. If you don't have a keen sense of smell like mine.
Leaving the spooky atmosphere behind, we entered the woods. Wet leaves, moss, and that clear smell of animals that had recently passed by. I noticed it right away. My biped companion, on the other hand, was busy checking the app that calculated his heartbeats. I can feel the heartbeats directly under my paws.
After a few minutes, the woodpecker.
Knock knock knock. Always the same, always there. He said: “what a relaxing sound!” and I thought: relaxing for whom? It seems like someone who's been knocking for half an hour and no one opens the door for him.
Higher up, we stopped on a sunny hairpin bend. I had smelled very fresh tracks. Deer. Two, maybe three. Surely they came down at dawn to drink near the path. He was too busy photographing the lake that emerged from the branches. “Look at that view!”. Oh yes. But can you imagine the smell?
And then, here it is: the Roman mill in the middle of nowhere. In the middle of the woods, high up, far away from everything. He stopped in front, murmured: “but why right here?” I didn’t answer. But inside I thought: maybe even the Romans followed their noses, not Google Maps.
Soon after we found a flat stone that for him was “the perfect bench”. He took out the sandwich, I found a fountain. Then, as in a dream, a lady arrived with a trekking pole and a piece of focaccia visibly in distress. She looked at me, smiled, and gave me a piece. My human commented: “now you are more popular than me”.
Come on. Focaccia works miracles.
In the afternoon the air had changed. Lighter, bluer. We stopped on an open stretch, with a postcard view of the lake and true silence, the kind that smells of wind and the right things. He took off his backpack, sat down in silence. I lay down next to him, my tail relaxed, my ears low. That position that says: I'm fine. And yes, I'm also thinking.
There was the lake below, still and bright, as if it had not noticed anything. And we were up there, watching it without saying anything. He ate an apple. I closed my eyes.
Then he stood up and said, “Come on, it won’t be long now.”
And I thought: yes, we're almost there... but this part here, between the sandwich and the mill, between the woodpecker and the focaccia, I will remember for a long time.