Mountain villages of Northern Italy — Cornelli
We could’ve passed our day strolling around Isola di Fondra, mellowing at the park by the Brembo river, savoring fresh cheese sandwiches with thick, crusty bread, and staring into the blue sky — that in itself would’ve been a fulfilling day. Yet, I had a hunger to hike. I always like to squeeze the last drops out of every adventure, and so I urged the crew to walk up Mount Torcola and visit two villages, Cornelli and Pusdosso, promising the views would be spectacular.
We started at 2300 ft in Fondra, and made our way to the beginning of the path that would begin our ascent of Mount Torcola. There were two options : path 125 directly up to Cornelli (20 minute hike) and Pusdosso (40 minute hike), or path 137 to the lower villages of Foppa and Forcella, then ascend the mountain to the other two.
We decided to take path 125 directly up to Cornelli and Pusdosso, hoping to devote more time to exploring the villages, and return another day to complete the complete village circuit on path 137 and of course feast on more cheese sandwiches.
Italy has an extensive circuit of hiking paths lovingly maintained by the CAI (Club Alpino Italiano/Italian Alpine Club). CAI was founded in 1863 and promotes mountaineering and hiking path maintenance, first aid and injury prevention, nature awareness and appreciation, and bivouac and cabin establishment and support.
During WWII, CAI supported a series of mountain routes with bivouacs and cabins in the Alps and the Apennines that protected Italian militia fighting the Fascists, while also hiding and housing Jewish people fleeing to Switzerland to escape the Nazis.
The wooded paths on Mount Torcola are well traveled routes between villages. Path 125 is a gradual ascent up to Cornelli, providing a memorable view of Fondra through the trees. Along the path, we saw chestnuts scattered amongst the leaves and branches.
It’s emotionally intense reflecting how these little treasures from the earth had saved many lives during the war when people suffered and perished from famine, food resources being unreliable and scarce. I gathered a few of them in my hand, thanked them for their being, and then tossed them back into the woods. Chestnuts are honored every year at festivals where bags of the roasted delights are heartily enjoyed.
The path grew increasingly steep, and grass turned to stones. As you can see in the photo above, my partner and daughter are both leaning forward slightly as they walk up. This shows the inclination, and how they’re putting in the work.
Our calves were burning when we reached Cornelli (3018-3149 ft). Thankfully, there were plenty of grassy spots and stone walls to rest upon while we restored ourselves.
We refilled our water bottles with cool spring water from Cornelli’s fountain. The first sip on my parched lips was like a kiss from the Angels. I’ve never experienced water this pure, this fresh.
Water access in the mountains used to pose a challenge in the past, but thanks to aqueducts and modern technology, even villages at this elevation receive fresh water.
Cornelli is situated on the slope of Mount Torcola. The stone and wood buildings and their lands play on many levels. The village has no streets, no businesses, no services, and one simple foot path.
Although there’s rural road access from Fondra up to Cornelli, the road is privately maintained, for residents only, with parking below the village and a short walk up. Imagine living in Cornelli back in the 1600s before cars and vehicle access. You were either fit, or you stayed up once you arrived.
I understand why mountain residents are sturdy and robust, and why Italian Nonnis (elders/grandparents) easily pass me when we hike up and down the mountains. They grow up on these ascents and descents.
On this structure, you can see the mix of traditional with modern technology — plaster over stone. In my country village, many of the older structures that were constructed with stone and brick, are also plastered over, perhaps as protection against the elements and structural reinforcement. I personally find plaster sad, and brick and stone romantic and beautiful.
I wonder what the Befana hanging on this doorway would say? Probably would side-eye me and tell me to “keep it moving”. In Italian lore, Befana is a friendly witch who gives children candies or coal in January depending on their behavior the previous year. She also serves as a protector, and wards off evil spirits.
As we approached the end of Cornelli, we passed this traditional wood-fired iron stove (circa 1800s/early 1900s). One of our friends down in the hills of Emilia-Romagna has one of these — I’m so smitten that I hope to have one of my own someday, and a rustic cabin to put it in. A few pieces of wood, and this stove heats up rooms very quickly while cooking up your meal.
This charming stone structure boasts a family photo suspended at the top. I wonder who these people are, and their history. Many dwellings are passed from parents to children and so on, with families holding claim for several generations. Perhaps these were the Grandparents that originally settled on the property.
Mountain life is challenging, and certainly not for everyone. The people we met in Cornelli were friendly, helpful, and radiant. Even if life is harsh at times, as mountain winters surely are, our experiences are largely governed by our attitudes. I’m sure the villagers live a simple, but bountiful life.
Notice how rocky the path was? Welcome to Italy. When I walk through the fields around our village, I wonder how farmers get corn and squash to grow in such rocky earth. I’m amazed at how cooperative and combative nature can be.
Hiking up Mount Torcola from Isola di Fondra to Cornelli was challenging, yet worth the sweat and struggle. Our faces flushed, muscles sore, backs aching, I called upon the endurance and tenacity of all those who came before us, and beckoned those who would come after us to persevere. The mountain villages of Brembana valley, in particular Cornelli, are treats that I will savor all my life.
