A Biography of Water in Italy

The Sentiero Italia crosses 20 regions and multiple UNESCO heritage sites across 3,800 miles of trail. The majority of my time in Italy was spent hiking along the northern sections in the Veneto and Trentino Alto-Adige regions. The Sentiero Italia connects trails once stewarded by secluded mountain communities (now managed by the Italian Alpine Club) where climate impacts are causing noticeable retreats in glaciers and an increase in landslides, and ecosystems are visibly impacted by hydroelectric dams and other human activities. The trail allowed me to interact with hikers and climbers, mountain hut hosts, small farm owners and other locals with strong connections to the mountains who could provide insight into their experience of these changes to water over their lifetimes.

I ended my hiking in Italy with the Via Degli Dei ("Way of the Gods"), which follows an ancient Roman road from Bologna to Florence. The trail took me from the dense forest into arid rolling hills, and opened my eyes to a different hiking culture in Italy than what I saw up North.

255 miles walked. 74,013 feet of elevation gained.

Follow my journey...

The voices belonged to a pair of older Italian men. We ended up chatting the whole length of the the via ferrata, and then getting lunch at the rifugio on top. They were born and raised in Cortina, and had quite a bit to say about the impacts of climate change they had witnessed around the mountains of the popular ski town. Notably, they said they used to ski in the summertime on the glacier of Monte Cristalo which, as I could see from the rifugio, no longer had any visible snow on it. This felt like a perfect example of exactly what I wanted to get out of my project - learning from those who can place their understanding of water/climate change in the landscape because of their love for being outside; and I might only find them by meeting them where they spend most of their time.

My good fortune from this interaction only kept coming. One of these individuals said he had a sister who is a geologist in the area, and that she would be the best person to talk to about my interests. In that very moment, he called her up and organized a meeting between us in town the next day. I also learned that he was the owner of the rental shop I got my gear from, and kindly took my gear back down the mountain so I wouldn't have to go out of my getting back to my campsite. Not only that, but he paid for my lunch, mentioning a time he will always remember when someone did the same for him while he was solo traveling in the US on $5/day in his 20's. He was paying it forward, in a sense. The goodness of people!

The next day, I met with the geologist sister, Chiara. Her essence was that of a stereotypical scientist, charmingly awkward. We met at the bar by the bus station and while I ordered a macchiato, she ordered an Americano (which I remember clearly because I hadn't dared order one in an Italian coffee shop yet for fear of ridicule).

We talked mostly of landslides. The strong rainfall events that trigger landslides have gotten more intense and frequent in recent years. Water falls from the sky so quickly that it only becomes runoff and doesn't replenish groundwater supplies. In the event of a landslide, this water mixes with clay-like soil and picks up debris as it moves down steep slopes. The flow will accelerate and grow in size as it travels downhill, and eventually the land will collapse. It isn't difficult to spot valleys where debris has settled from a previous landslide while hiking in the Dolomiti. The purpose of cutting down trees, a strategy that I had witnessed all around Northern Italy, is to reduce the damage done to towns and properties (not to actually prevent the landslide). Chiara expressed frustration that the Italian government would only respond to landslides after they had already happened. In addition to their crisis response, the government needs to put resources towards understanding landslides in the area.

Chiara's core belief was this: "the history of life is written on the rocks". When it came to dealing with landslides, it was her opinion that we need to treat the land as one that exists in part because of these events, as opposed to seeing landslides as an emergent threat to a landscape steeped in human history and tradition. In this region, the dominant story of the land emphasizes how it was changed throughout war - times of great change and trauma in human memory. But, as Chiara emphasized, what if we considered the history of the land beyond human memory (but not out of reach from human understanding)?

Landslides are a pinnacle issue of water and climate change in the mountains. Understanding landslides requires an awareness of the topography in mountainous areas, the water cycle, and extreme weather events. As it came up time and time again in conversations with locals, landslides and storms appear to be the primary source of climate-anxiety in the Italian alps.

Panchiá is not a particularly built up town. It’s charm feels genuine, unlike the overtly european-themed town of Cortina. Uneven cobblestone streets are lined with houses that have wood paneled windows and chipped paint. Most have a small garden where they are growing fruits and veggies. Surprisingly, I see solar panels on many of the rooftops. Flowers drape from balconies and line fence posts. Jesus figurines hang in little boxes on street corners. There are loads of benches scattered about, reminiscent of a culture where streetside seating is commonplace for people watching and interacting with your community. Often these benches are positioned next to public drinking fountains. The reflective water in the fountains and constant trickle of the flow are a spectacle, source of relaxation, ambiance for contemplation.

The morning is calm and comforting. Roosters caw to one another across yards. People are taking their dogs for a walk. Meanwhile, a cat follows me up a street. I find myself wandering into a church that feels like it was made for a town bigger than this one. Sparkling stained glass hints at the impeccable care of the building. There is a small cemetery beside the church. Each and every marble grave is astonishingly clean. Not one is left without fresh flowers, candles and pictures. Around the church there is a schoolhouse, post office, library, theatre and park - all the essentials. Intoxicating aromas from a bakery waft through the air. Those I interact with seem to know less english here than most places I have visited. 

There’s a stream called the Rio Cavelonte that runs through the town and then connects perpendicularly to a larger one - Torrente Avisio. Along the Avisio is a string of these small towns, clearly placed in this valley (Val di Fiemme) according to its water source. Signs along the stream say that it is reserved for the fish, which I find somewhat comical. Catching these fish does seem to be encouraged, though. The course of the river has been loosely channelized by stone walls and steps. It certainly seems to rush with the force of the current storm. I think I see a dam at the north end of the river just at the tip of town. Reading more into the Avisio, I learn that it begins with the melt from the Marmolada glacier and is fed by a multitude of smaller streams. At it’s head, water trickles through the permeable dolostone and limestone of the Dolomites, but the stream’s hydrology is transformed as it enters a region defined by impermeable silicious rock and the flow is brought to the surface. At a certain point, this flow becomes significantly altered and decreased by the presence of hydroelectric plants - the main one at the base of the spatzle-shaped lake Stramentizzo, created by the dam.

Realizing I had traveled the mountains alongside the Avisio for the last two weeks, somewhat unintentionally but not unsurprisingly given how trails are built according to topography, I am able to speak to this transformation. At my closest moments to the Marmolada glacier, I spent time admiring a stream for its milky turquoise color due its high lime content. I passed a small hydropower plant walking down from the mountain but couldn’t find much information on it at the time to fulfill my curiosity. In a town called Penia at the base of the Marmolada, I had splashed around in its waters to feel some relief on a particularly hot day after a windy and sickening bus ride. Around me there seemed to be half the town enjoying the stream as well, a staple of the community. As I walked parallel to the Avisio at elevation through the Sasso Piato, Antermoia, and Latemar mountain groups (check these names) I crossed many of its tributaries. At the same time as I watched the textures and colors of exposed rock change around me, the hue of the streams changed. Now, in Panchiá, the stream is clear enough that the warm tones of the rocks in the stream-bed shine through. And after the storm, it turned a soft opaque brown with kicked up sediment. Continuing on, I come to feel a sort of companionship with the river as I follow it all the way until a farm I stay at a week later. We move through the land in the same direction, at once the same as we always have been and entirely transformed into a new form in each new landscape.

The story of what Maso Zepp is today has sweet beginnings. As an aspiring permaculture farmer without any property, Marcello moved into the janitor's room in a small-town hostel while he looked for land to start his project. While out walking one day, he spotted an abandoned farm on a hillside - perfect for his project. However, he did not have any contact with the owner. That is until one night while attending a feast held in the small town where his hostel was located. He sparked a conversation with a man who said he had a farm that he would like for someone to take over. With a bit of alcohol in his system, he invited Marcello to see the farm the next day. Sure enough, it was the same one Marcello had his eye on. Not only this, but he met the owner's daughter, Gloria, who (spoiler alert) would later become his wife. After 7 generations of ownership of this farm by the same family, it would be rented by Marcello who was determine to turn this "infertile land" into a prosperous farm. Gloria and Marcello married this last summer and live together at the farm with their lovable retired shepherd, Nanook, and elusive cat, Liz.

Maso Zepp is designed based on permaculture principles. Jobs/crops that require the greatest attention are placed closest to the home and then ripple outwards until those that require the least attention. Observation of the natural ecosystem is essential before changing the landscape. Wild areas are left wherever to promote biodiversity. Working with and not against natural processes is paramount. On the first page of a book explained to me as the bible, the ultimate goal of permaculture described as this:

The only ethical decision is to take responsibility for our own existence and that of our children. MAKE IT NOW.  _{("Permaculture: A Designers Manual", Bill Morrison)} 

I love this quote because it empowers people to create their own microcosms of the world they want to live in. Permaculture shows that all the knowledge and tools needed to live on this earth sustainably already exist - we just need to employ them.

This philosophy leads to a form of subsistence that is highly attuned to the water cycle and concerned with longevity of the resource. Marcello chose his water source carefully. After studying hydrological maps and exploration of the land around him, he picked out a stream about 50 feet away from the property. The spring is fed by Laghetto di Vedes, a peat bog at the top of the hill above them is unlikely to dry because so much water is retained by the loafy wetland. It took 2 years of understanding the waterscape before making this decision, and 1 year to get through the bureaucracy before he could actually use the spring. Finally, he built his system. Springwater first passes through a filtration system made out of gravel. Pipes from the spring to farm were laid with close attention to topography so as to always bring water downhill. This gradient, along with pressure built by gradually decreasing pipe diameter and the high altitude of the farm, means that water reaches the farm's reservoir tank without any need for pumping. From there, Marcello can connect irrigation lines to various spigots to control the direction of water.

The spring is not Marcello's only water source. Three other methods are employed to make the most of water on the farm. First, periods of observation and experimentation to identify water-rich areas of land are critical. For example, areas where tall grasses grow tend to show less water retention. Here, a plant like grapes which can grow without much water in the soil might be a good plant choice. Second, a healthy soil structure is developed to allow greater water storage. Using no-till practices, planting cover crops or using tarps between production, and allowing the natural soil microbiome to flourish will produce a soil that holds onto more water. Lastly is the cultivation of microclimates - which recognizes water vapor as a powerful actor in creating desirable climatic conditions on a small scale. Microclimates allow certain plants to grow better on certain plots, and multiple can exist on a single, small farm. Elements from the natural landscape and built elements are used as the "nest" for the climate. For example, at Maso Zepp, a terrace on the hillside is able to grow Mediterranean fruits with the following design: A vertical wall above the field absorbs heat. Fruit trees and berries are planted in a scaffolding manner in front of the wall. Trees downhill from the field are planted to create a windshield. As heat and moisture moves up the field during the day, it is trapped by the fruit trees and berries. At night, this heat and moisture is pushed back down the field towards the windshield trees. In this way, a more stable, humid and warm climate is curated around the field. All in all, you can use fairly intuitive methods of enacting changes to the water cycle to benefit your farm while minimizing impact to the landscape.

Lastly, I was struck by how the small-town community surrounding Maso Zepp is an important piece of how resilience is understood at the farm. Marcello and Gloria are located in a place where, for better or for worse, everyone knows everyone. While they sometimes feel like outsiders in the community because they have adopted a relatively alternative lifestyle compared to others, one thing is certain - their neighbors always have an eye on one another. Marcello described the COVID pandemic as a test of the small-town's resiliency. While they were limited in their ability to travel to resupply food and household products, neighbors came together to support one another. With a bit of collaboration, they were able to pool their resources and subsist completely independently from outside supplies. This experience showed Marcello that whatever happens in the future, they can make it out okay just with what they have around them. It seems to me that building small-scale permaculture farms and strong social networks alongside one another can be a path to resilience for some places experiencing a changing waterscape.