Tag Archives: Basilica

Intermission II – Montefiascone

Wednesday 28 May 2025 – Having expended over 3,000 calories and tramped over 30,000 steps a day for the last eight days, we were due a rest today; and anyway a suitcase full of sweaty hiking clothes was making a siren call. So the main task for the day was the laundry (these things are important, you know), but we also wanted to follow up on a couple of things we saw yesterday and wanted to look at again. Delightfully, as we were about to go for our breakfast, we bumped into Jane and Yvette on their way to resume the Via and so were able to bid them a fond farewell and Buon Camino.

For the first of our targets, timing was important, as we knew that it would be seen to its best advantage in the morning light. That meant going back up above the old town, to the castle where various popes have taken residence over the centuries; hence it’s called the Rocca dei Papi – I shared a photo yesterday. Part of the castle is the Torre del Pellegrino, the Pilgrim’s Tower,

which has a commanding view over the surrounding countryside.

I was already kackered from having to walk up to the Rocca, so wouldn’t countenance actually climbing the thing. Anyway, I knew a place where the view would be just as good – the Belvedere next to the tower. When you first see it, the view is breathtaking,

and, if you look carefully, it’s possible to see that Lazio is making some strides in sustainable energy production – the first wind farm we’d seen in our time in Italy.

One wonders if Tuscany is being sniffy about having windmills spoil its iconic countryside.

At the Belvedere is a monument to the pilgrim,

and one is quite close to the cathedral, which has a crypt that the nice lady in the tourist office was keen to make sure we knew about. I’m not normally one for visiting crypts because I associate them with dark and dead bodies, but Jane was interested, so I tagged along; and I’m glad I did. It’s difficult to do it justice photographically, but here’s my attempt.

It’s vast and circular.  Around the walls are terracotta statues of the Stations of the Cross

and, in a side chamber are (we assume) relics of Santa Lucia dei Filippini, to whom the crypt is dedicated.

Here’s another attempt to convey the interior.

We put a Euro in the slot to turn the lights on. It made photographs a little clearer

but it was more atmospheric without the lights.

The huge size of the crypt is made clear by an infographic on a board outside.

The church is the top half, and the crypt the bottom half. Since you’ll have seen the astonishing interior in yesterday’s post (you did, didn’t you? Promise?) you can understand the overall structure a bit better.

Walking back to the hotel, the square just up from the hotel looked a lot more cheerful in the morning sunshine

and, under the arch to the right above, there’s further evidence of the push to establish the city as the 100km point on the Via Francigena.

They have a bit of a way to go, though.  The lady in the tourist office was proud to tell us that no fewer than 500 pilgrims had been through in the last year. So we nodded and put on our impressed faces; but compared with the tens of thousands who go through Sarría every year on the Camino de Santiago, it’s small beer. I wish them well; the Camino is very crowded these days, and perhaps people looking for equally (or even more) challenging walks will come to the Via Francigena – perhaps even to the point of increasing traffic to provide economic justification for entrepreneurial spirits to open more coffee and rest stops?

To get to the laundry, we had to go down and outside the walls. While I went to start the washing, Jane went to explore the other major lump of religious masonry that we’d passed on our way into town the day before;

the Basilica di San Flaviano. I was in two minds as to whether to visit, as it meant slogging back up into town afterwards; but Jane told me it was worth a look and so I staggered down the hill. And…

my goodness me!  It was a delight.  The crypt in Siena had turned me on to frescoes, and there was some lovely work to be seen here.

It was possible to spend a Euro to turn the lights on here, as well, and

it rather spoiled the effect, I think; perhaps the yellow light preserves frescoes better, but it’s at its best without the artificial aid.

By this stage it was lunch time, and so we went to a place recommended by the lass on the desk in the hotel; Miralago da Paolo. They don’t have gin there, which is a shame, but we had beer to accompany an excellent meal of Herculean proportions; enough pasta to load me up for tomorrow’s walking, I hope.  It has a great setting.

And so to tomorrow, when we will be Back On It.  We have to get to Viterbo, which is only 17km and largely downhill, so, despite the forecast for 25°C and unbroken sunshine, I’m hoping for a pleasant walk. I will report back.

 

 

 

Anne Interesting Tour

Tuesday 20 September 2022 – The weather forecast for the day was gloomy, and the reality out of our hotel window

didn’t give huge cause for elation.  So, by an accident of fate, our plan to be on a bus for most of the day looked pretty sound.  There was a little uncertainty about precisely where the bus would stop, as a result of which we failed to be first on it and therefore to get the prime seats at the front of the upper deck.  This was a little bit of a shame, as the front windows actually boasted windscreen wipers, and so would have been clear for taking photos.

The driver, Dan, gave an interesting and folksy commentary as we went along and we tried to grab photos of the things he was talking about – never easy on a reasonably swift-moving bus on a rainy day, but one or two are worth sharing.

The route went north-east from Québec City, along the north coast of the St. Lawrence river.  This is the area where original settlers, erm, settled, and it seems that it took a few years for them to find the best area: at first they made homes on the banks of the St. Lawrence, but these got washed away by the unexpectedly high tides; so the next attempt was on top of the cliffs that bordered the river, but these were subject to the  bitterly cold north-easterly winds; finally, the best location turned out to be at the foot of the cliffs, out of the reach of the tides and sheltered from the winds.

By this stage, the settlers had learned about the potentially 12 feet of snow that could be expected during the winter, and so the houses tended to have steps up to the entrances.  We tried to catch some pictures of these houses as we went by.

 

On thing that we noticed was the colour of the roofs, many of which were (like that church spire I mentioned in my last post) silver in colour.  It turns out that these are tin, chosen because it is reasonably long-lasting and also fire-resistant.  Many have brightly-coloured roofs.

The reason for this is historical, as there’s no real need for the colour now.  But in the days of the original settlers, with houses relatively few and far between and 12 feet of snow on the ground in winter, the coloured roof was perhaps the only landmark a person could see.  The house in the photo immediately above features a “spring kitchen” – a place where folk could gather as the weather broke after winter, to celebrate the arrival of spring.

Houses that were farms tended to a strip of land that stretched back to the banks of the river – that way it was easy to understand land ownership.  Some of the farm houses are very handsome

and some of the older buildings show , from the reduced height of the door, that people weren’t as tall then (late 16h and 17th century) as they are today – perhaps as much as a foot shorter on average.

The tour made its first stop in St-Anne-deBeaupré, a small town of perhaps 3,000 souls, but home to an astonishing Basilica.  The first church was built by sailors, seeking protection against shipwrecks off Ile-Oeuf on their way upriver to Quebec City (Saint Anne, the mother of the Virgin Mary, is the patron saint of sailors).  But the church has grown and grown, and has a reputation similar to that of Lourdes as a place for the sick to come on a pilgrimage and be cured.

It is huge

and ornate, both outside

and inside.

The doors are covered in beautiful copper, both outside

and in.

and there are extraordinary stacks of crutches and other mobility aids

which have been left here by people who have been cured of their illnesses.

There are no fewer than three other religious establishments immediately around the Basilica,

a couple of churches and, above, a commemorative chapel  of the third church.   On the gentle slopes of the hillside behind the chapel and beside the Santa Scala pictured above it are twelve bronze statues of the Stations of the Cross.

All in all, it is clear that Sainte-Anne-de-Beaupré is a very significant religious centre.  There’s something excitingly called a Cyclorama

which is not, after all, a wall of death for daredevil motorbikers to whizz round, but actually a 365-ft representation in the round of Christ’s crucifixion – sadly closed since the pandemic and not yet re-opened.

After this stop, we retraced our journey back towards Quebec City. Driver Dan described the next stop as a “Copper Shop” and I wondered why we would visit a police station.  At first, it seemed merely the sort of retail opportunity that is often an unwelcome intrusion into a tour, as we were ushered into the lobby lined with works of art made from copper.  I was wrong to misjudge it, though.  We were at Cuivres d’Art Albert Gilles Boutique et Musée. Our group was given a short demonstration of how sheet copper can be transformed into a work of art.

although what we saw was a mere illustration using thin sheet metal; the real material is five times as thick and takes real skill, dedication and time to make into a final sculpture.

The studio, which was started by Albert Gilles who has passed the flame to daughter and grand-daughter, also hosted an exhibition, including Albert’s work to create silver representations of the life of Christ,

a project which took him 15 years, as well as some other lovely items.

The key thing that prevented this from being an unwelcome attempt to sell us stuff came with the knowledge, imparted by Madame, that Albert Gilles had created the copper doors for the Basilica at Sainte-Anne-de-Beaupré (along with work at some 60 other churches).  We left with a great, erm, impression of the man, his work and his art.

We next stopped at the Montmorency Falls.   These are 83 metres high, thus higher than Niagara, although not as powerful.

The falls are impressive enough from ground level, but one can reach the top for a different viewpoint.  You have a choice: walk up steps to the right of the falls as you look at them – 487 steps, we’re told, since we didn’t take this option (not enough time) – or a cable car to the left, which is quicker, less work but costs more.

The cable car is unique in my experience in two ways: the cars are clamped to the cable and it’s the cable that moves; and each car is clamped to two cables, which (obviously) both move. From the top of the cable car, you go past Montmorency Pavilion

and can take a couple of viewpoints, the better of which is ruined, in my photography-solipsistic world, by zipwire cables spoiling the view.  There’s a suspension bridge across the falls, which is quite exciting.  On the left from this viewpoint you can see the steps which hardy souls can climb and which would probably give the most satisfying viewpoint.

In the distance, in the upper of these two pictures, you can see a much larger suspension bridge. This leads to – indeed is the only road access to – the Île-d’Orléans, which is where we headed next.

This island is home mainly to farms, as building regulations forbid the creation of any other kind of industrial construction.  It produces mainly fruit and vegetables – strawberries, apricots, potatoes and apples. There’s a 9-hole golf course, a couple of churches and a decent selection of very handsome (and expensive, obvs) homes.  There’s a Nougaterie, and a blackcurrant farm, Cassis Monna & Filles, which Ian Burley recommends for its gin, but rather than go there, we ended up at a chocolate shop, right at the western point of the island, where you can actually see back over to Québec.

If you look carefully, you can even see the central tower of our hotel, just above the left-hand cruise ship.

The chocolate shop is very obviously a popular place for tours

but we resisted the urge to dash in and stuff our faces.  Instead, since this was the last stop of the tour and we were back at the hotel shortly afterwards, we headed to a hotel restaurant called Sam (for reasons we discovered the next day) where, by virtue of force of personality, or perhaps just plain luck, we just managed to squeeze in for a late, and very good, lunch and a couple of cold, and very welcome, drinks.

Was this a “Fabulous Country Tour”?  Well, not really – and of course the dull weather didn’t help – but it was interesting and we learned quite a lot about early settlers; and the Basilica was a truly remarkable place.  We enjoyed the day and could now look forward to our second and final day in Québec.  The weather outlook was rather better, so we could expect to have a good chance to explore this fascinating city in more detail.  Do come back and find out, won’t you?