Day 11 - Gran Sasso

Jacquie’s suggestion that we take a trip to the mountains met with mixed responses as there was a number in our party for whom heights are something that happen to other people. As I am always keen to have as many experiences as possible, I embraced the opportunity, and so Jacquie, David, Zoë, Alice, Ingrid and myself set off to see Italy from another perspective. As we loaded up the car, David asked “What are your thoughts on cable cars?”

This was unexpected, as I was a little unclear as to what this excursion would involve. There was a largish mountain visible from our villa, and Jacquie had said that we were going to the mountains behind this. I got the impression it was going to be a nice drive with pretty views, a spot of lunch and then back. The prospect of a cable car ride gave the trip a different texture, and while I was quite keen on the idea, I knew that Zoë would be less inclined. But Jacquie had mentioned that, as she herself was a bit apprehensive about cable cars, we had the option of dividing the group up so that those who wanted to try the cable car could do so while Jacquie drove up with anyone else who didn’t fancy it.

The journey was longer than I expected, taking around two hours, but it was a fabulous trek. The motorway route took us further into the mountains (which I later learnt were named the Apennines), and the sights were spectacular. The journey began to take on something of a pattern: a bit of road, a bridge, a bit of road, a tunnel, a bit of road, a bridge and so on, leaving me marveling at the feat of human engineering which had made this route possible. Each tunnel we passed through (the longest of which was over 4km) rewarded us with a dramatic view as we left it, and it became clear that these were serious mountains. Ingrid was particularly excited, as Peter really doesn’t enjoy high altitudes and so she rarely has the opportunity to experience this treat.

As we arrived, I noticed that I had failed to take into account that the higher up we went, the colder it would be, and hoped that my long-sleeved t-shirt would provide enough protection from the elements. This was compounded as we saw people leaving the cable car dressed in serious gear: thick jackets; layers; walking boots. I looked around at those of us dressed in shorts and t-shirts and began to think that our stay at the top of Gran Sasso may be brief.

When Jacquie and David bought their cable car tickets, it seemed that the driving option was suddenly no longer available, and Zoë would have to brave a 1km ascent in a box held up by a bit of rope. I thought I was going to have to adopt the brave macho role, but in truth I was beginning to get nervous myself. Cable cars, like planes, don’t look particularly inviting when you see how far up you are going.

It was a great experience! The sense of danger makes the nerves tingle, and as you are looking down and seeing nothing but a drop, you get a bit of a rush. It gets even more exciting as the cable car passes across the pylons that support the journey. Each time it does this, I got a bizarre sensation that the car was no longer making contact with anything, giving a brief sense of flight, before it drops again as the weight of the car pulls down on the new stretch of cable. I spent the 10 minute journey grinning inanely, and laughing perhaps a little too hysterically as we passed through each pylon. Zoë was considerably quieter, but I think she surprised herself as well as me by how calm she had been.

And the view at the top? WOW! We were actually on top of a mountain. Like, a proper one, man! The vistas were incredible: beautiful, unwelcoming, dramatic. At just over 2km up (okay, so it’s not a very big mountain, but it did the job for me), the air was chilly, but not unbearably so, and we were able to enjoy a picnic in a fairly quiet spot while looking out over valleys below us, and footpaths above us that would lead to higher plains. The location was pretty well developed, with a hotel and a couple of bars, food stalls and an observatory. The hotel itself has a dark claim to fame, being where Mussolini was imprisoned and rescued during the Second World War. The management seemed to take a deal of perverse pride in this fact, with the walls carrying a number of photographs of Italian fascists dining in the very restaurant in which tourists were now happily eating their lunch. You could also pay to visit the “Mussolini Room”, which was presumably where he slept during his incarceration. Rather than give credence to this unsavoury event in history, we drank hot chocolate in the bar, before a few final photo opportunities and a return to the cable car.

The descent was even more exhilarating – the car was carrying about 60 people, including one young woman who was almost hysterical with fear. Her state of mind wasn’t calmed by the fact that after each pylon the car would swing quite violently, and her whimpers would be joined by those of others, as well as my deranged cackling. Loved it!

We took a different route back home, driving on the mountain roads which presented us with a stream of unreasonably tight hairpin bends. These were handled with great skill by Jacquie, who had further challenges as we drove through a small town that clearly wasn’t invented with cars in mind, certainly not a 7-seater Fiat Ullyses. There were some hairy moments as the streets got narrower, and at one point we were faced with a sharp turn made more difficult by the fact that the car was inches away from a set of steps down. Jacquie managed to clear this danger with about an inch to spare, as we all finally exhaled and continued on our way home. Tonight we return to Il Vecchio Frack, for what we hope will be another tremendous meal.