Journey Beyond Travel - Morocco Tours

Le Marche Italy
By Jacqueline Goyette

Nazareno said it would be a simple, leisurely walk. He said there would be a castle, a good view of the surrounding hills, and a gentle path through the mountains. It was Epiphany, the twelfth day after Christmas, and the four of us didn’t want anything more than to take it easy. No one wanted adventure. No one wanted snow. Everyone just wanted to take a pleasant stroll through the mountains, take photos of the hills, then find a restaurant nearby to chat, eat lunch, drink some wine. Then we’d go home, we said, before night fell.

I had hiked numerous times in the mountains of the Marche region of Italy - enough to know by now that “simple leisurely walk” normally meant miniature catastrophe. Once in July, we began hiking on what seemed at first to be a pleasant, sunlit afternoon, only to end the day running frantically down the side of a mountain, dodging massive hail stones and a nearby lightning storm, all the while praying our Hail Marys in Italian. There had been other times too, so many that it was hard to remember every mishap, each misadventure that had accompanied me on my trips to the mountains. So with a little bit of experience under my belt, this time I packed a change of clothes, some cashews, my boyfriend Antonello’s wool sweat pants (“From my time in the military,” he told me later), and my hiking boots, and I hoped for the best. I fell asleep in the car on the way there.

As we drove into the tiny town of Mercatello sul Metauro, Nazareno spotted the sign for the castle. Antonello parked the car, and we all changed into our hiking gear. I looked around. We were in the Pesaro-Urbino province of Le Marche, and the mountains stretched out around us, dotting the landscape with their peaks. All morning Nazareno had been teasing Antonello about how silly he was with his heavy backpack full of various mountain equipment. Antonello had brought everything from snow shoes to a caving helmet, complete with a lantern. “I like to be prepared,” Antonello said, smiling proudly. As we unloaded the trunk, though, we noticed that we had forgotten water and food, and all of the extras would just amount to extra weight in our backpacks. So much for being prepared.

The signs were clearly marked as we headed up a long gravel road to the Castello della Pieve, following the slight curve of a nearby mountain stream. Antonello’s caving buddy Sbif had joined us. He had appeared out of nowhere, his hair pulled back into a messy ponytail and his face equipped with a broad smile. Sbif had a knack for creating his own adventures. He was a spelunker and a mountain climber, and he did both things with a sort of mad-dash spontaneity that was a little bit strange, a little bit contagious.Today he carried only a small backpack on his shoulders and an egg sandwich in his hand—his usual carefree attitude already present this morning. Together, we hiked to the castle, a fifteen minute walk with the unusual warmth of an early January sun against our backs.

The castle ended up being more than just a castle. It was actually a little village. There was a tower we could climb into but not up, a church with locked doors, various houses that looked like they had been abandoned long ago, and a recently posted announcement reporting upcoming construction plans for the area. The small town shone with that mid-morning yellow which seems to be a phenomenon with the stones in Italy, as the sun dusts everything from medieval villages to tiny country churches in a sheer blanket of gold. The sky was bright blue above us, and I had shed my sweatshirt due to the hot sun. It was turning out to be a beautiful January day.

“Let’s keep going up the mountain,” Antonello said. Looking up at the hill ahead, we all agreed.

Nazereno had the map, and it looked like the path continued quite far into the surrounding hills. It didn’t come full-circle either; so, if we wanted to follow the path, we would have to turn around and backtrack. That made sense—walk a little more up to the summit, get some good views of the surrounding countryside, and then return on the same path back down in time for lunch, completing our leisurely morning hike in the moutanins. But Sbif, one eyebrow lifted and a smirk beginning to steal across his lips, suggested that we could easily return by just cutting through the forest and clearing a path down to the street.

“What street?” I said, looking at the map wondering if I’d missed something. As far as I could see, there were no streets marked.

“Oh, don’t worry, there’s always a street,” Sbif said, waving his hand in the air as if to disregardthe map. “And I’m sure that street will eventually lead back to our cars.” He left it at that and began to hike ahead. I hesitated a minute, remembering my initial goal: no adventure. Then I looked back at Sbif, who was hurrying ahead with long swift steps, almost hopping up the mountain. I sighed and hiked up after him. It was starting to look like today would go in a different direction than I had hoped.

We continued along the way, up to a quiet peak where we could look out at all of the surrounding hills and mountains — some snowcapped, others still green with dark patches of pine trees. Antonello and Sbif spent a few minutes pointing out the mountains and naming them, for they had been in this area before and knew those peaks by heart. Sbif would start in, shake his head, then say, “No that’s the one. Mount Catria.” It was like going through a school yearbook, these memories flooding back to him like the faces of old friends. There was something tender about it, I thought.

We followed the path through a section of forest that acted as a ridge between the hills, and, after the serious trudge uphill, the leveling off of the land felt good to my legs, each step taken with a sense of gratitude. I wrapped my sweatshirt around my shoulders, chilly with sweat and the mid-morning shadows of the woods.

Then a funny thing happened. We came to a clearing, and the path we had been following seemed to end. It did indeed on the map as well, and while Nazareno and I were ready to turn around and head back, my shoulders shifting toward the forest again, Antonello and Sbif confiscated the map and began to talk quickly in Italian. I knew what was going on, even if I couldn’t catch all of their words: they were organizing a way to hike down the side of the mountain, to blaze their own trail with the hope of eventually meeting the road below.

“But can’t we just turn around?” I pleaded before they had even stated their case. The morning was getting late. My stomach was already beginning to growl. It was just about lunchtime.

“No, this will be faster,” Sbif said, pointing out his plan with exaggerated gestures. He pointed here and there on the map as swiftly as he spoke, and I became lost in the confusion of it all. Antonello nodded in agreement with Sbif, and Nazareno just shrugged. I gave up. In a minute’s time, we were trudging off of the path and through what seemed to be a muddy driveway (Sbif spotted wild boar prints in the mud), over a fence, through a small field, and finally, down a steep path into the forest. I looked over my shoulder at Nazareno, who had by now tucked the book away, the map no longer needed. Our original morning stroll had officially been called off.

The sound of leaves crunching beneath our feet echoed in the empty forest, and we walked single file, bracing ourselves against trees as the hill became steeper. It was colder here, with the light of the sun shielded by the dense canopy of leaves overhead. There was nothing to see as we looked down into the distance — just more trees. I could see no road at all. We came across a stream with a small waterfall, and Sbif, who had gotten ahead of us and skipped haphazardly down the hill, was already examining the area closely, looking below for signs of cave entrances. He and Antonello were serious spelunkers, and any possibility of discovering a cave in these limestone mountains was worth a look. After a few minutes he abandoned it, suddenly remembering the task at hand.

“Are we lost?” I whispered to Antonello, nudging him. He just laughed, asked Nazareno for the map again (what good was it going to do us now, I thought?), and we stood there, in the middle of the forest with no path, as Sbif and Antonello skimmed through the book until they found the map.

We were lost. I knew it.

“I’m going down further to check it out. If I hear sounds of traffic, I’ll let you know,” Sbif said. He handed Antonello the book and was off, running wildly down the hill, grabbing onto tree trunks and sort of swinging his way down like a monkey in the jungle. We waited five minutes. My stomache growled again, ready for lunch. I began to wonder where I had stored those cashews.

Sbif came back before I had time to search hungrily through my backpack. “I don’t see any road,” he said. “What should we do?”

“We should go back to the path,” I wanted to scream, but I said it calmly, looking Antonello directly in the eye. He smiled sympathetically at me, almost ready to give up on this wild chase down the mountain. He looked at Sbif.

“What do you think?” he asked, looking at his watch and back at Sbif.

Sbif shrugged, his eyes already glancing up, toward where we started from. “Maybe it’s better to go back,” he said, nodding his head. “Yes, let’s go.”

I sighed with relief. I had won. We went back. We climbed up the hill, crouching and pulling ourselves up one tree trunk at a time, trying to remember which direction we had come from, in our haste. Eventually we arrived again at the muddy driveway-like path. We climbed over a fence, wandered through a field of winter wildflowers, and within moments, we found the main path again. Sbif continued up ahead, so far that I couldn’t see him anymore, his yellow backpack completely lost in the distant trees.

And as we took the path back, Sbif paused at a clearing, looked down at the forest we had tried to blaze a path through, and turned to Antonello. “See? We were this close! If we had just gone a little further along…” I grabbed both of their arms and tugged at them.

“We are not going back!” I laughed, stamping my foot down uselessly. They laughed too, Sbif still trying to explain where the road was, and Antonello nodding like a boyscout. We all stepped onto the familiar path—me eagerly, them slowly and looking back, still longing for the adventure of those woods.

At lunch that afternoon we laughed over our morning in the mountains: the map, the pathway, the wild boar prints in the mud. It had grown colder already, and I pulled my jacket around me as we talked about the adventure, ever so small, that we had encountered, and the road that was just a little bit farther than we had imagined. I was happy about it, wondering how I could have ever asked for just a simple walk when lunch tasted as wonderful as this afterwards. It was three o’clock already, and we ate hungrily and happily, ending a morning of little mishaps with local pecorino cheese and full glasses of red wine. Blushing from the wine, I looked over at Antonello, sharing his contagious laughter, his smiling eyes. This year was a new one, and I wanted it--adventure and all.

What you Need to Know:

The Le Marche region is one of Central Italy’s best-kept secrets. While many a traveler has already conquered Tuscany and moved on to the nearby region of Umbria to visit charming cities like Assisi and Orvieto, Le Marche has remained relatively tourist-free, making it a wonderful area for hiking and mountain climbing, or even exploring its many enchanting hill towns.


Discovering Le Marche can be a magical experience, and hiking in the mountains of the region offers a different side of Italy to even the most seasoned traveler. Northern Le Marche offers kinder routes and gentler slopes, making hiking something everyone can take part in, as long as you stay on the path!

A days worth of hiking near the town of Mercatello sul Metauro can easily be done by using the town of Urbino as a base. Another possibility, although a bit farther away, is the Tuscan town of Sansepolcro, southwest of Mercatello and a nice choice if you are coming from Tuscany. It is important, however, to have your own transportation. The town is easily reachable from Urbino by heading east on major roads. Mercatello sul Metauro is about twenty-five miles away. If you are coming during the wintertime, choose Urbino, since the roads from Sansepolcro can become icy and dangerous.

Once arriving in Mercatello sul Metauro, continue on the road for a mile or so until you come across a road sign indicating the Castello della Pieve. Parking here shouldn’t be a problem, and the street is paved all the way up to the tiny village. There are maps posted at the village to continue your hike.

And don’t forget to take advantage of those nearby towns of Urbino and Sansepolcro. Both are cultural delights - Urbino famous for its ducal palace, a work of Renaissance genius, and its famous son, the painter Raphael. Sansepolcro, instead, is home to the painter Piero della Francesca, and some of his more important works can be found in the town. Both cities are charming and form a nice bridge between the regions of Le Marche and Tuscany.

Author Bio:

While she's not taking wrong turns in the mountains, Jacqueline Goyette is getting lost in the town of Macerata, Italy, where she is now happily married to her expert mountaineer, Antonello. She teaches English, designs websites, and writes: dedicating much of her energy to her online travel magazine The Long Trip Home, and her Italian/American blog, Allora Aspetta. Both sites are filled with travel stories and bits and pieces of her "adventurous" life in Italy.

If you are in Europe, on your way from Italy to Spain, don't forget that Alicante car hire at bargain prices is your ticket for the best value around.

Italian hotels, Italian villa rentals and apartments in Italy - Choose from a large selection of hotels, private villa rentals, holiday homes, apartments, fincas and Italy guesthouses in Rome, Venice, Milan, Neapel, Rimini and Florence.

If you are in Italy and searching for a place to rent, you should not miss visiting Tuscany, where you can rent Tuscany villas or even apartments for great rates! If you are in the mood for an authentic Italian experience, make a booking today!