Lake Maggiore and Lake Orta

It's the most classic and torrid of August days, with the blazing sun lording it over, unchallenged, high in the sky, when we leave, after a morning of work, and head home to sort out the last things in view of our departure for Lake Maggiore. Federico isn't with us but at his grandparents', so after lunch, around 15:00, I go to pick him up: he was waiting for me impatiently, continually asking when on earth I'd arrived. I ring the bell and, almost immediately, I see him running towards me with happiness painted on his face. We say goodbye to the grandparents and, after the last bits of advice, we get into the camper, the new camper that Sabrina and I haven't tried yet, while the little one has, and already several times (only three days ago he came back from a short holiday in the Alps).

We arrive and park in front of the house so we can load what we need for the trip: Sabrina sorts things inside the camper, while Federico and I shuttle back and forth carrying everything, so after a quick shower, at 16:37 we're ready, all set, to leave. The heat is truly hellish and luckily the new vehicle is also equipped with air conditioning. At Faenza we get on the motorway, while the little one, exhausted, is already sleeping blissfully in the back bed, and shortly after Sabrina joins him too. We pass Bologna, with traffic conditions, in our direction, all in all good (they're a bit less so in the other direction, where, at times, some slowdowns cause inevitable queues). Meanwhile on the horizon big grey clouds appear and, at 18:00, near Parma, it starts to rain, accompanied by strong gusts of wind.

By now it's evening and I wake the two sleepyheads, who absolutely hadn't noticed the climatic changes along the way and join me rather surprised in the cab. But, apparently, we were only grazed by the bad weather, which runs off towards the east and already before Milan the sun returns to dominate the scene. We speed past the Lombard capital and continue along the motorway in the direction of Varese and Malpensa airport, the unmistakable point of departure towards the most disparate destinations of unforgettable past journeys and (we sincerely hope!)... future ones. We leave behind the junction for the airport and the branch for Varese, cover a few more kilometres and, at 19:30, we leave the motorway. A handful of minutes later we arrive on the southern shores of the lake, where it is about to become a river again.

Lake Maggiore, which stretches for 65 kilometres from north to south and has a maximum width of 5, despite its name is not the largest Italian lake (Garda beats it) but, on the other hand, it is the deepest, with its 372 metres. We start following the eastern shore and, shortly, we reach the town of Angera where, presumably, we'll stop in view, the next morning, of a visit to its fortress. We follow the signs for the manor, which stands at the top of a small hill, and by means of a short but winding road we reach the car park next to the entrance: there's another camper (French) and we stop there. After dinner we go to see the lake from above, but the sunlight is now faint and darkness is taking over... it doesn't matter: we'll see it tomorrow morning. So we return to the camper to spend the rest of the evening and wait for bedtime...

it's divine: the temperature is very pleasant and the heat of the past days seems a distant memory, so I really think we'll have a good night and sleep blissfully.

It was truly a pleasure to sleep under the blankets, savouring their delicious warmth, with the crisp morning air seeming to want to tickle the tip of our noses to wake us up and give us the energy we needed to face the day. The first to leap to his feet on the bed is Federico, as impatient as he is to visit the fortress. We know very well how much he likes castles, but we have to hold back his wave of enthusiasm, since it's still a while until opening time and we have plenty of time for a leisurely breakfast. A few minutes before 9:30 we head for the entrance and, officially, kick off the visits.

We walk back up the old cobblestone-paved road that runs alongside the walls and reach the balcony overlooking the actual entrance, from which you can enjoy a beautiful view of the lake, then, once we've bought the tickets, we cross the door and enter the inner courtyard of the Rocca di Angera, whose original core dates back to the 12th century and was built where a defensive structure had already existed in Roman and Lombard times. For a certain period of its history it was the property of the Visconti family, until, in 1449, it passed to the Borromeos, who still keep it today.

Just inside the walls there is a small collection of farm tools and Federico, carried away by his enthusiasm, immediately launches into an endless series of questions, then, after visiting the so-called hall of justice, on whose walls there is an interesting cycle of 14th-century frescoes, the little one literally goes wild climbing the tower, from whose summit, thanks also to the splendid day, you can take in a suggestive panorama that stretches as far as the snow-capped peak of Monte Rosa, which appears in the distance, behind the green hills that border the lake. We go back down and end up spending a bit of time at the curious doll museum, housed in some rooms of the castle, which however doesn't enthuse Federico, who, after looking at the first display cases, practically cuts through the remaining rooms by taking the shortest route without paying much attention to the exhibits.

All in all it was still interesting even though, at times, to tell the truth, a bit boring. We really didn't let anything slip by and, once the visit is complete, we return to the camper to continue following the road that runs alongside the lake northward. It's a rather narrow ribbon of asphalt that goes from Angera to the little village of Ranco but, fortunately, not very busy, so we arrive without any particular problems at the "Ogliari Transport Museum", founded in 1954 by Professor Francesco Ogliari: scholar, writer and man of science. A true connoisseur of the subject, who has gathered in the park of his villa the fruit of over forty years of his research.

The museum allows you to retrace two hundred years of transport history, bringing back to life emotions that seemed lost, and there are so many pieces, piled one on top of another, that you wonder how it was possible to get them there and arrange them in exactly those positions. Standing out among them all is locomotive "8" of the Ferrovie Reggiane, which was even called upon to "act" in the Peppone and Don Camillo films. There's absolutely nothing missing on the subject, including old advertising posters, ticket machines, tools, spittoons and toilet signs! It was a truly interesting visit and, above all, completely free! The little one had a world of fun scampering among those old wrecks which, unfortunately, in most cases, would need a copious restoration and, all in all, it wouldn't be absurd to ask for a small contribution.

Instead, at the exit they only ask us for a signature and a telegraphic comment. Purely on our own initiative we leave a small offering for the caretaker before returning to the camper and resuming the itinerary. It's almost noon: we drive a few kilometres and then follow a turning to the left, which leads close to the Hermitage of S. Caterina del Sasso, there we find a shady car park and stop for lunch. With full bellies, with music in the background and a pleasant breeze coming in through the windows, we can't resist the temptation to take a nap and we wake up when the clock already reads 15:30. We immediately get up and go to visit the hermitage, built starting from the 13th century and home to Ambrosian hermits since 1379, it later passed, in 1670, to the Carmelites and was even suppressed in the second half of the 18th century.

The province of Varese bought it and financed the long restorations, completed in 1986. The structure was then entrusted to a community of Dominican friars. We go down a steep staircase that runs among the vegetation along the precipitous shore of the lake, taking the opportunity, among other things, to pick a few wild strawberries, and we soon arrive at the religious complex, scenically clinging to the rocky wall about ten metres from the water's edge. We visit the place immersed in an atmosphere charged with mysticism, where silence and peace reign unchallenged, we enjoy the panoramic views and pay a bit of attention to the small church, magnificently frescoed, then, calmly, we face the hard climb (268 steps!) that takes us back to the camper.

We get back on the road and, still hugging the lake, we cross the Italo-Swiss border in the little village of Zenna, where a red-cross customs officer who had asked us to show our passports, given where we're from, asks us the reason for our presence at Lake Maggiore, considering that a good part of the local people do exactly the opposite and go on holiday on the Romagna riviera... I reply that we're just looking for a bit of cool: it's an excuse and, in fact, the reason is far more complex, but that's enough to get rid of him. We continue a few more kilometres northward and arrive at the northern end of the lake, so at the hypothetical turning point, and then stop, shortly after, in the city of Locarno, nestled in a fine position on the shores of the lake basin and surrounded by high peaks.

We park near the harbour and, given the time, we treat ourselves to a walk along the elegant lakefront, with Federico following us on his bike: so we spend a couple of hours of pleasant relaxation. On the way back we're enchanted watching all the preparation stages of a mime who in the end, all in white from head to toe, settles himself on a pedestal to play the statue, and we would even have left an offering, but we don't have any Swiss francs in our pockets and we move on. It really feels good in the open air and when we come back from the walk it's long past 20:00, so we have dinner and spend the rest of the evening in the camper.

It's heavenly under the blankets: we ignore the alarm that goes off at 8:30 and for a good half hour we stay, half-asleep, enjoying that pleasant feeling. It's almost 10:00 when we leave Locarno following the road that runs along the western shore of the lake. After a few kilometres and having left behind the village of Brissago we cross customs and return to Italy. Shortly after we arrive in the very busy town of Cannobio, from where we leave the coastal road to follow the one that heads into the Cannobina Valley. We go up it for a short stretch, up to the junction where we find the signs for the Orrido di S. Anna, which we reach by means of a short but very narrow road, along which, fortunately, we don't meet any other vehicles. We leave the camper in a small car park and go to see the gorge: a deep ravine carved by a stream that emerges near a little church (presumably dedicated to S.

Anna) and is spanned by a dizzying stone bridge. We go down to the base of the gorge, where the stream widens forming even a sort of pebble beach and where there are some divers who, in turn, go down to dive among the rocks. In the silence, broken only by the lapping of the flowing water, we take some photos, while Federico scampers about jumping from one stone to another, then we retrace our steps and face the climb that takes us back to the camper. The place really deserved a visit and we leave it with satisfaction, once again facing that not very pleasant stretch of road (little more than a paved mule track), without meeting any other vehicles.

So we return to travelling along the western shore of the lake too and, at a certain point, on our left, in the middle of the water, the ruins of the Castelli di Cannero appear, dating back to the 13th century and originally inhabited by the Mazzardi brothers, the so-called "Mazzardini", robbers who for several years kept the whole coastline in turmoil, until, in 1414, surrounded on all sides and worn out by the lack of provisions, they surrendered. The castles then became the property of the Borromeo family, who, over time, progressively abandoned them to themselves, thus beginning their inevitable ruin. We leave the Castelli di Cannero behind too and continue. We pass the city of Verbania (a fresh provincial capital) and arrive at Pallanza, where we stop by the lake, in the car park of the famous Villa Taranto, which we'll visit in the afternoon.

While Sabrina prepares lunch I take Federico to see the boats in a small nearby tourist harbour: on our return a nice plate of steaming pasta is waiting for us. Refreshed perfectly, without haste, we tidy up the camper then, on foot, we reach the entrance of the grandiose garden complex of Villa Taranto, which occupies the entire north-eastern side of a promontory jutting out over the lake. The villa building (today the seat of the Prefecture and not open to visitors) is located in the upper part of the park, far from the white entrance gates. It's in Franco-Norman style and was built relatively recently, towards the end of the 19th century by a certain Count Orsetti and, in 1900, purchased by the Count of S. Elia, court chamberlain of the Savoys, who, in turn, in 1931, sold it to Captain Antonio Neil McEacharn, archer to the Queen of England.

It's thanks to the assiduous and methodical work of this Scottish gentleman, a lover of nature and beautiful things, that today we can visit the most beautiful botanical gardens in Europe. It's just a shame that we can't do it in the period of their greatest splendour, when, in spring, they're an infinite explosion of colours. In August many plants have already finished flowering, but the lawns are very green and well kept, the trees majestic and the remaining flowers stand out beautifully in the perfect geometry of the flowerbeds. We visit the park following the route marked on a map, which Federico insists on following far too scrupulously, so much so that he pulls us up every time he thinks we're not respecting it.

Among the numerous botanical wonders we notice, in a greenhouse, the huge Victoria Regia water lilies, which we had recently also seen in Mauritius, in the Pamplemousses gardens, but in that case they were outdoors! The visit was pleasant and, immersed in nature, we covered several kilometres that didn't weigh on us. In the end, though, we treat ourselves to an ice cream, which we enjoy in the shade of a big tree with a view stretching over the lake in front of us, then, satisfied, we return to the camper. We resume following the itinerary and, as planned, we leave, albeit temporarily, Lake Maggiore to reach the nearby Lake Orta, a much smaller body of water (only 13 kilometres long by 2 wide), which has a particularity: it's the only Italian alpine lake whose waters flow from south to north, and then, at the outlet, turn east and empty into Lake Maggiore.

Our destination is the little village of Orta S. Giulio, located halfway along the eastern shore, on the outskirts of which we notice the beautiful Villa Crespi, turned into a luxurious hotel and therefore not open to visitors. It's Sunday afternoon and the town centre is unapproachable, invaded as it is by tourists who are mostly locals, so we go up to the Sacro Monte: a hill that rises behind the built-up area, where, among other things, there should also be a camper parking area. We find it and park the vehicle without any particular difficulty, but it's still too early to "drop anchor for good" and so we also visit the Sacro Monte, in which, immersed in a wood of centuries-old trees, there are twenty chapels dedicated to illustrating the life of St. Francis of Assisi, as well as the adjoining Capuchin convent.

All this can certainly not be called uninteresting, but it's above all the view over the lake and the island of S. Giulio opposite that delights the eyes and makes the experience particularly pleasant. The day is now drawing to a close when we return to the camper to take a well-deserved shower and have a quiet dinner, after which we carry out all the water loading and unloading operations, which should allow us to reach the end of the trip without problems. We then wait in the camper, playing cards, for the time to go to bed and we certainly don't chat with our neighbours... French or German as they may be!

The night, in the silence of the Sacro Monte, passed in an instant and it's almost 9:00 when we get up, while outside the sun is still shining (third consecutive day: a rare thing around here!). We have breakfast and then go down, with the camper, to Orta: yesterday (Sunday) the car park was unapproachable, today (Monday) we find a place. We venture on foot into the heart of the village, characterised by narrow alleys lined with characteristic buildings which, however, in most cases, would need a copious restoration. Very beautiful, on the other hand, is the central Piazza Motta, which welcomes us with its lakefront protected by large trees in a row like sentinels: a verdant backdrop to the splendid view over the lake and the island of S. Giulio opposite.

But attention is also drawn to the beautiful Palazzo della Comunità della Riviera, characterised by its entirely porticoed ground floor. From the pier in front of the square we board to reach the island of S. Giulio, where we arrive after a few minutes of sailing. Once disembarked we start following the only existing street, typically paved with granite slabs and cobblestones, lined with interesting buildings (in need of restoration like those of Orta), and in no time we find ourselves, almost without realising it, back at the starting point, having completed the circumnavigation of the island. All that's left is to visit the basilica, which will open its doors at 11:00. It's not long now and we wait sitting on a bench by the lake, then, at the appointed time, we cross the threshold of the religious building, dating back to the 12th century.

It's not of great proportions, but inside it boasts interesting frescoes and, in the crypt beneath the altar, is the body of S. Giulio: the religious figure to whom the spread of Christianity in the area is due. Once the visit is over we board the first available boat and return to Orta. We wander a bit around the village, walk up the so-called salita della Motta, lined with ancient palaces, and browse a bit in the shops, then, close to noon, we return to the camper, but we don't stop. We immediately get back on the road and reach, on the other shore of the lake, the Sanctuary of the Madonna del Sasso, which is located high up, on a rocky spur, dominating the lake basin, and is reached by means of a road that climbs entirely in hairpin bends... there, finally, we stop.

After lunch, calmly, we go to visit the sanctuary, which has nothing special, apart from the pleasant view from the balcony overlooking the lake (a shame only about the haze). We'll remember the visit, however, always for another reason: right inside the church, because of a step made smooth by wear, Sabrina falls and grazes her knees, just like a little girl, and it's a bit funny thinking back on what happened but it's better not to let it show because she, naturally, is angry, so we try to play it down while, quietly, we head back to the camper to resume the journey. We retrace the whole road back to Orta, then take another one that, climbing over the hills, should arrive, again, at Lake Maggiore, but almost immediately we come across a not very reassuring sign about the height of an underpass: too risky to continue, we turn back and start looking for an alternative route.

We waste a bit of time but in the end we find it and venture among the gentle slopes that divide the two lakes, then, near the... Maggiore one, we take the road leading up to Mottarone, a peak from which you can admire a grandiose panorama, but, by now halfway up the climb, we notice the truly impressive amount of haze... pointless to continue: we turn around and go down to Stresa, a famous and historic holiday resort nestled on the shores of the lake. We find a place in a camper parking area located right in front of the Borromean Islands, which we'll visit tomorrow, and in this regard we go to get information on prices and boarding times, then we take a short walk along the lake. The day, which is thus drawing to a close in the utmost tranquillity, gets lively after dinner. While I was outside, suddenly Sabrina hears a strange noise: it sounds like water flowing...

she calls me and I rush over, listen for a moment and understand the problem, I look for the main switch and, when I find it, I cut the power... the strange noise stops... what doesn't stop, however, is the water, which starts seeping from the base of the cabinet under the sink and flooding the floor. As best we can we try to stem the flow, which gradually stops. I take apart the front of the cabinet and, fortunately, I immediately identify the fault: a hose fitting! A stupid hose fitting that has literally unscrewed itself! Lucky Federico who seems to be enjoying himself, while we, armed with a few rags and a lot of patience, manage to fix everything...

what a sweat! By now, inevitably, it's late when we go out for a walk, refreshed by the splendid view of Isola Bella which, illuminated, stands out in the middle of the lake a few hundred metres from us, just as some luxurious hotels we come across along the way are also illuminated. We end the troubled evening in a children's playground, where Federico goes wild to such an extent that... he ends up hurting himself... nothing serious, but it's enough to trigger the most classic, pointless and unpleasant of "tragedies" to crown the day... and sad, sad we head back to the camper.

The day will be entirely dedicated to visiting the Borromean Islands, property of the family of the same name since the 12th century. They're located in front of that stretch of lake that extends right in front of our car park, so, after breakfast, on foot, we reach the boarding point and are immediately enticed by one of the many companies offering the navigation service between the three islands (in our case it'll be "Vs"). In no time at all we find ourselves, ticket in hand, on a small boat, which in a few minutes takes us to disembark on Isola Madre, the largest of the archipelago. The start of the work to transform the island into a place of residence can be traced back to 1501, and it's due to Count Lancellotto Borromeo, who however didn't manage to complete the work.

It would take until the end of the century and another Borromeo (Renato) to see the current complex take shape in its entirety. The gardens are beautiful and well kept, with peacocks and pheasants free to roam everywhere, not at all intimidated by the presence of tourists, and the palace is also interesting, with its severe architecture typical of the Mannerist style, both outside and inside, where, among other things, there is a space dedicated to the puppet theatre, with a rich collection of backdrops and puppets. Throughout the park, given the heat of these days, they're watering abundantly and it's a source of great amusement for Federico who runs past near the sprinklers trying to avoid the splashes.

So we reach, after almost two hours, the end of the visit and board a boat that, shortly, takes us to Isola dei Pescatori, the only one of the three on which there is only a village and not a Borromeo residence. It really seems to be just what we need: it's almost noon and we start looking for a place to satisfy the hunger pangs that are inevitably growing. We basically walk all the alleys of the village and stop at a small restaurant by the lake: nice, though perhaps too close to the docking pier of the scheduled ferries. We have a good lunch, while the little one has fun throwing breadcrumbs into the water and gathers a small zoo made up of fish, seagulls, ducks and sparrows, which all together make a great racket. At 14:00 we set off again and board the boat that, this time, takes us to Isola Bella...

and the name should be a guarantee! The work for its construction was begun by Carlo III Borromeo in 1632 and subsequently interrupted due to the outbreak of a serious epidemic. It was his son, Vitaliano IV, who had the construction of the palace resumed until it was almost completed in the last decades of the 17th century. Many works, however, were only completed in the following decades and even centuries. Although the realisation of the work was prolonged over time, the Isola Bella complex presents itself in a strongly unified way as a whole, inspired by a single vision: that of giving the island the appearance of a vessel at rest on the waters of the lake. We visit the palace, which is located on the north-western tip and is characterised by sumptuous rooms, among which the great hall of festivities stands out, rising to a height of two floors.

Also very interesting are the artificial grottoes (which are accessed through a spiral staircase), decorated so as to evoke marine environments. But what remains most impressed from the visit are the magnificent and meticulously kept Italian gardens, which occupy the entire summit and south-eastern part of the island. With our eyes still full of wonder we finally leave the island and return to dry land. We're only halfway through the afternoon and decide to spend the rest of the day in complete relaxation: we put on our swimsuits, take a mat and beach games and go to the lake shore. There's even sand and so Federico digs a nice hole, just like at the seaside, only the view is different, surrounded as we are by mountains and with Isola Bella in front of us.

Federico and I even go for a swim: the water is a bit cool but very bearable, and to think that if anyone had told me before leaving I would have thought them mad! So we stay enjoying the warm rays of the sun, until the sun, inevitably, goes down below the sinuous line that marks the outline of the surrounding hills, then we return to the camper for a quick shower and dinner. Later we go to the lakefront: the wait is nerve-wracking but, shortly after 23:00, in Pallanza, on the other shore of the lake, the fireworks finally burst, duly celebrating the outcome of a beautiful day.

If a good day can be seen from the morning, the one we're about to begin won't be an exciting day: although it's almost 9:00 the little one won't hear of getting out of bed and we have to get a bit angry to convince him, so we set off slightly late. We pass Stresa and arrive at Villa Pallavicino, a building in neoclassical style built in the 19th century and surrounded by English gardens, in which a small zoo has also been created. But in the car park opposite they don't want campers because of, according to what we're told, some idiot who, a couple of years ago, decided to dump his black water right in the area.

For several kilometres along the road there are no other parking possibilities and, it seems incredible, but we have to give up the visit! Fortunately Federico doesn't make a tragedy of it and, however rather displeased, we continue along the itinerary, which thus comes drastically to an end. We arrive at Arona, now at the northern tip of the lake, and take a road that climbs just above the town, where the so-called Colossus of S. Carlo is located: one of the largest statues in the world, made of copper and bronze and resting on an enormous granite base. It was erected in the second half of the 17th century in honour of S. Carlo Borromeo, an illustrious citizen of Arona, and since then it has watched over, with all its imposing size, the waters of Lake Maggiore.

You can climb up the statue, but it's not permitted for children under eight and Sabrina is afraid, so, by kind concession of a supervisor, I accompany the little one almost halfway up the climb, partly satisfying his curiosity, then, on my own, I tackle the final stretch, which is indeed quite demanding, and I find myself inside the head... the sensation is truly strange: I look at the panorama through the holes of the eyes and nostrils, then, satisfied, I tackle the descent and put my feet back on the ground. At this point our itinerary would be over, but, not wanting to leave before noon, we go up into the hills above Arona, to the locality of Mercurago, where there is an equipped camper area: it would be paid, but we say we need an hour's stop and they let us park.

There's not much to do, but there are some games for kids and a nice lawn, so we have lunch in the open air, livening up the atmosphere a bit, then we tidy everything up and at 13:45 we're ready to face the return journey. In no time we reach the bottom of the lake and a few minutes later we're on the motorway. We stop for a coffee and a refuel, then we launch ourselves onto the semi-deserted ribbon of asphalt, given the hyper-festive midsummer day (it's Ferragosto!). Already before Milan Sabrina and Federico are sleeping blissfully on the bed at the back of the camper, so I stay alone, in the company of the radio. Everything goes smoothly and the two sleepyheads re-emerge from the world of dreams near Bologna. At 17:00 sharp we're at the Forlì exit. We stop to empty the tanks and at 17:21 we're in front of home.

We've had a beautiful holiday, even if short (little more than a trip), which was above all relaxing and ideal for a period in which the major seaside resorts are unapproachable, but we don't despair because soon, perhaps, we'll have the chance to face a far more substantial journey, without taking anything away from the beauties of Lake Maggiore.