A Walking Guide through the Tuscan Hills by Mary Novakovich
Featured Hotel in Florence
Villa Le Maschere
See all hotels in Florence >
At first I thought we had walked into a massive family gathering. About 20 people were seated at a long table under a shady vine-covered pergola, gossiping loudly in Italian over grappa and coffee. Cheerful, noisy, arms flying everywhere – a typical Italian family at Sunday lunch. Only it was Tuesday and it wasn’t a family; they were the guests at Franco and Umberta Lazzari’s Agriturismo Orgiaglia in the Tuscan hills, doing what comes naturally when you’ve had three courses of Franco’s delicious cooking, plus large quantities of Chianti and grappa.
The Lazzaris’ daughter Silvia spotted the two dusty and rather exhausted new arrivals. “We’ve been expecting you. Sit down over there, away from the noise. My mother will bring you a cold drink.” Within minutes Umberta was plying us with sparkling water and speaking excitedly, the odd German or French word punctuating her Italian. She seemed genuinely thrilled to see us, and we soon discovered that we had collapsed into the most convivial and yet relaxing agriturismo in Italy.
Beautifully Stark
At last we could peel off our walking gear and jump in the huge pool. We needed it after our long walk from Volterra. It was only about 15km or so, but the sun had been hot and the Tuscan hills, as exquisite as they are, require some effort in 30C heat. There’s a bit of a trade-off on a walking holiday in Tuscany: much of the time you walk on the easy terrain of the strade bianchi – the once-white and now grey farm tracks that link these ancient villages and towns – but more often than not you’re exposed to the strong sun.
The landscape in this part of the Chianti region was beautifully stark, the rolling hills brown and sparsely covered. When a row of cypress trees did appear, it had a dramatic effect against the vivid blue sky. Eventually we reached the coolness of the heavily forested Berignone nature reserve, where we could eat the rather sad little packed lunch provided by the Park Hotel Le Fonti in Volterra where we stayed the night before. It wasn’t quite enough to sustain us for the last kilometre, which was uphill through rough forest tracks.
State of Bliss
Much later, after a refreshing swim, we noticed the other guests settling in for a lazy late afternoon: some ensconced in the swing seats with a book, others on sun loungers. We were content to sit at one of the many tables dotted about, drinking the beer offered by Franco. “Would you like some pecorino I made?” he asked. “And I’ve just picked these plums from my garden. Have some.”
Soon the sun was dropping behind the green hills covering the furthest reaches of this vast property, while I bagged one of the swing seats to lull myself into a near-perfect state of bliss. The evening was just beginning. Promptly at 8.30pm, Umberta rang the huge bell outside the door and we all trooped into the dining room. We were seated according to language groups, which allowed the lively conversation to flow unimpeded over the next few hours.
The mouth-watering food – all locally produced – just kept coming. Bruschetta, prosciutto, fennel-flavoured salami, a wild mushroom risotto, grilled pork and wild boar. An English couple were celebrating their 25th wedding anniversary, which gave Umberta a great excuse to bring out a cake and Prosecco. Sitting outside in the moonlight afterwards, drinking wine, no one seemed in a hurry to go to bed.
Pretending to Be an Italian Family
We had great intentions the following day to do a long walk through the grounds. Unfortunately, the Italians’ utter incapability to produce a decent map caused us to walk around in circles for about an hour until we gave in and wandered over to the stables where Silvia was teaching two children the rising trot. “Come and feed the horses,” she said. Being Italian horses, they were fed bruschetta.
Our own gargantuan feeding time was approaching. It was our turn to pretend to be a noisy Italian family at Sunday lunch as we sat under the pergola and feasted on more of Franco’s gorgeous yet simple dishes. After quite a lot of wine and grappa, it seemed a splendid idea to jump in the pool and have a raucous splash-about. It had the effect of sobering me up, which meant I could join everyone else by the tennis courts, where an epic match was in progress. A 12-year-old Genoese girl and her middle-aged father came from behind to beat two young German men. We cheered as the sun disappeared behind the players, then went off to prepare for another lovely dinner. Duck pasta this time, and more wild boar. Coffee on the terrace before the night got too cool.
At this point I was wondering if the Lazzaris could adopt me. I’m sure I could prove useful around the place. Big goodbye hugs the next morning before we trudged up the lane with massive regret. It was only day three of a nine-day holiday, and the pleasures of Florence and San Gimignano were to come – as well as several more days of walking through this heart-stopping landscape.
Enjoying the Views
But trudged we did, uphill, through the nature reserve until we got high enough to enjoy the views. Eventually we reached the pretty hilltop village of Casole d’Elsa, where Maria in the alimentari was happy to make us some sandwiches for our lunch on the way to Colle di Val d’Elsa, a much larger hilltop town which was that day’s destination.
The four-star Relais della Rovere was beautiful, its buildings dating from the 14th century. Friendly as the hotel was, I was missing the agriturismo, its warmth, its vitality, its ability to leave you alone if you wished not to join in. Still, one way of shaking off that feeling was to hop on a coach and spend the next day in Florence. It’s hard to be grumpy when you’re bewitched by the Duomo, or staring in wonder at the Palazzo Vecchio and remembering that horrible bit in Hannibal. Or marvelling at the great and the dead in the church at Santa Croce. Or watching the couples on the Ponte Vecchio get engaged and then choose a ring from one of the jewellery shops crowding the bridge.
Intimate Landscape
It was time to get back to the walking, and the next destination was San Gimignano, that wonderful medieval example of architectural one-upmanship. But first we had another 15km to wander through before we reached the hamlet of San Donato and our next hotel, Le Terre Rosse. Here the landscape was much more intimate, with more farms, more olive groves, more houses with large kitchen gardens and orchards.
The vineyards were bright purple, the vines heavily laden with juicy grapes that were just days away from being harvested. There were more woods here too, with lovely cooling shade. Now and then I would catch a glimpse of the medieval towers of San Gimignano in the dusty ochre haze of the upturned earth.
For such a small and touristy place, San Gimignano is remarkably spacious. It’s the last thing you would expect from a 13th-century hilltop town, but it was easier to explore than Florence. It is also breathtakingly beautiful. Fourteen of the original 76 towers remain, and the superb views from the tallest tower, imaginatively called Torre Grossa, were worth the rather tortuous climb.
Open and Dramatic
Far too quickly, it was time for our final walk before the reps from Headwater, Paul and Petra, drove us back to Pisa airport. All this time they had been efficiently transporting our luggage from hotel room to hotel room. They had suggested two routes for the final walk which would take us back to Volterra, one of 16km and the other – mostly uphill – of 21km. Sixteen kilometres would do nicely, I thought, especially as the high-ground walk was shrouded in cloud.
A downpour the day before made it tough going on the rocky terrain through the forest of Castelvecchio. Occasionally we would come across an attractive derelict farmhouse, making me wonder what tangled family saga prevented a passing Brit or German from snapping it up. Once out of the forest, the landscape became as open and dramatic as it was on the first walk. Houses were few and far between, and hardly any walkers, unlike on the busier San Gimignano-Colle di Val d’Elsa route. My footsteps were dragging by this point, though; I didn’t want to leave this place.
Our spirits perked up a bit on our final night in Volterra, which was celebrating its annual festival held on the third Monday in September and which marks the return of children to school. People thronged the main piazza, their children munching on sweets bought from the many sweet stalls – not quite enough consolation for having to go back to school. I knew the feeling.
Inspired to walk through the Tuscan Hills? Check out Travel Intelligence's luxury hotels in Florence.