The first day of my hiking trip in the Valle Maira in Piedmont, north-west Italy, begins with a hot, lung-bursting, heart-pounding three-hour slog up a steep path. I should have expected as much. The tour operator classes its new circuit in this Alpine wonderland as “Grade 3: Challenging” – and my one-day training hike along the Devon coast hadn’t prepared me.
The rewards, though, were plentiful. Once I’d made it over the San Michele pass, the climbing was far gentler, and the pine forests that clung to the steep sides sculpted by ancient glaciers provided plentiful shade. Also, there was cold, clean water at springs and public taps in the many small hamlets I passed. Handy information boards recounted that the Valle Maira, which is in the Cottian Alps close to the French border, had once buzzed with river-powered mills, where wheat, corn and rye were turned into flour. There were crafts galore, including – as the museum in the town of Elva recorded – making human-hair wigs for sale in Paris and London, and trading in salt from France (not always legit) and anchovies.
The area became depopulated in the 20th century. The arrival of machines killed off crafts such as saddle-making; a series of wars and the pull of the cities did the rest. Along the way, abandoned mills, locked and unloved churches and chapels, and once-handsome stone houses on the verge of implosion somehow still added romance to the wild landscape.
My base for three nights was Agriturismo Al Chersogno, the family home of Luigi and Pasqualina. Proud of their Occitan roots – Pasqualina’s family have lived here for generations – they spoke the threatened language and played folk music on accordions. Meals were traditional and epic, with dinners of at least six courses, including antipasto, salad, pasta, a pie, a meat dish such as rabbit stew, ice-cream plus a glass of local grappa or genepì to aid digestion.
After a sound night’s sleep I was ready for more – and my second big hike was the most spectacular. It began with another heave up a slope, landing me on the shoulder of 3,026-metre Monte Chersogno. As I climbed, I had my first sight of marmots – curious, bushy-tailed mega-squirrels common to the region – and spotted an ibex grazing in the shade of a large rock. Clouds had been boiling all morning and as I arrived at the highest point, a thunderstorm exploded above me. I crouched beside a boulder to hide from the driving rain and was surprised when three Italians came jogging past, laughing. They had climbed to the summit, which is very doable for fit walkers and requires no special kit or technical know-how. I opted instead to picnic by a nearby lake before heading home via a grassy ridge.
When the time came to move on, my luggage was ferried by the local Sherpabus pick-up and drop-off service for hikers and mountain bikers – so I could travel light.
Chiappera, my next base, seemed to me the best-preserved of the Valle Maira villages, its roof slates tidier, its stone walls carefully pointed. The refurbs have been sensitively executed, not least in La Scuola, the former village school now serving as one of the smarter restaurants-with-rooms. But the setting humbles all human efforts. The village sits at the bottom of a bowl of jagged mountains, with the fin-like peak of 2,451-metre Rocca Provenzale at its centre. It’s possible to walk around the mountain and right into France, with nothing marking the border but rusting second world war barbed wire.
A wonderful hike south led over the Gardetta pass, with gun emplacements and a war memorial in arid steppe-like country, then descended into lush meadows, where white Piemontese cows were dozing – for once their bells weren’t ringing. I skirted another dramatic peak, La Meja, then turned north down a narrow valley to the two-donkey town of Preit. Even there, in the middle of seeming nowhere, I found a cafe and a perfect macchiato for a euro.
That walk – and my trip – ended a few kilometres east in the hamlet of Finello, with dinner and a room at Locanda Lou Pitavin, the first hotel in the valley registered as an eco-ultra-friendly CasaClima. Owner Marco, told me that the Valle Maira, while still largely unknown to metropolitan Italians, was turning a corner in terms of tourism. “The things that made it unfashionable 20 or 30 years ago – wildness, lack of infrastructure, no flashy resorts or ski lifts – are now making it popular. Walking has become fashionable. Young people are coming back, too.”
“We’re sourcing locally as much as possible. We’d love to do ‘zero km’ sourcing, but the problem is the valley doesn’t produce enough yet. My dream is that tourism will support agriculture and then Valle Maira will be a true paradise.”
It is one of the most gorgeous places I’ve ever been in Europe. I saw several more ibex and deer, plus jays, shrikes and raptors, and heard cuckoos each time I entered a wood. Thanks to the rich pasture and abundant wild flowers, I also saw countless insects, especially bees (honey is a cottage industry) and butterflies. Ultimately, even the lung-busting climbs were welcome. Without them I’d probably have come back the size of a mountain.
• The trip was provided by Inntravel, whose self-guided hotel-to-hotel walking holiday in Valle Maira costs from £1,095pp for eight days, including half-board, picnics, walking maps, transfers and luggage transportation, available 26 May to 6 October. Flights to Turin are extra and return rail/taxi transfers from Turin airport £100pp. Inntravel also offers a two-night city break add-on in Turin from £164pp B&B.
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