“University is the best time of your life,” they said. “You’ll meet new people,” they said. Well, whoever ‘they’ are, they obviously didn’t consider the horrors of doing a month of geological mapping in the middle of nowhere.
Taking Piobbico, our Italian village home, at face value I felt like I was back at home in rural England. It was a village with a few thousand people, a river and the feeling that everyone knows everyone. However, when I noticed that relaxed Italians (rather than uptight English people) were roaming around in the completely un-British sunshine, I started to get a sneaking suspicion that fish and chips wouldn’t be on the menu. Once the scorpions hiding where the sun don’t shine (literally under rocks and in our washing) were found, it solidified the fact that this was Italy and it was our home for the next month.
Being a geology student, the necessary prerequisite is a deeply ingrained love of rocks. For some, it’s an unhealthy obsession, where a rock can bring unbridled joy, fascination and as one of my lecturers said, “The experience of a lifetime.” For me it’s more of a mild acknowledgement that it’s cool that they formed ages ago and they have some interesting stuff in them but in the end, it’s just a rock.
Note: The phrase, “It’s just a rock,” is as close to blasphemy as it’s possible to get in the geology world. So, if my mutilated corpse is found within the coming weeks look for the blood stained rock hammer.
This defiance of the rock cultists’ ideologies wasn’t going to cut it for this trip. I needed to fly under the radar with a steely determination to take measurements in the sweltering heat, a mind-numbing obedience to write the same rubbish every day, and finally the ability to walk miles without enough food.
With the entirety of a month unfurling in front of me, trepidation in the face of hateful academia doesn’t quite cover the full scale of my feelings. Thinking the situation couldn’t get much worse the geology turned out to be an absolute joke. Somehow, millions of years of fascinating and complex natural history had been condensed into lots of boring slabs of beige rock. This wasn’t what I had signed up for. I think most people can appreciate that mapping 14 formations of the same rock (limestone) isn’t exactly an engaging activity. Our patience was wearing thin, our legs were tired and our faces were almost always in a spider’s web. Now, don’t get me wrong, walking in the mountains is something I don’t mind at all, in fact I would say I enjoy it. The scenery was beautiful and getting out of Piobbico, where we knew the majority of the population within a week, was nice. But Geology was testing my love of the mountains.
Final notes on the town:
- You will be turned into an amphibian if you don’t say hello to the lovely old ladies of the town everyday. Other than the fear of transfiguration they seemed to be the friendliest people around. In fact, I think that witches might get a bad rap. I always knew Roald Dahl was nothing but a liar.
- You will have a love hate relationship with the Apé (the lovechild of a moped and a pick up truck). They’re too noisy but they look like so much fun and I want one.
- Crazy Bar was a home away from home. Where else can you be harassed by 17 year olds asking you questions at every hour of the day when you’re trying to relax? It’s a great place for a beer, an ice cream or even a sandwich. I miss you.
The Surrounding Area
The mapping area was a mountainous one, with exposed ridges, sheer rock faces and deep valleys. All this amounted to a beautiful location with plenty of locales to take lunch breaks with panoramic views. While most of the mapping area was accessible via small winding roads and some off-road scrambling, the largest mountains were of course only traversable via small tracks. These tracks set off winding through the forests that climbed from the gurgling streams and then zigzagged up the slopes of the two largest mountains Monte Cardamagna and Monte Nerone. Towards their peaks the forest gave way to exposed rocks and grasses which were dotted with wildflowers. The incessant flies, the geological obligations and the continuous cries of, “Capek banget,” from Rangga (meaning ‘I’m really tired’) were worth it for the views, which spanned miles of undulating Italian countryside.
At the end of another day of mapping, where nothing made sense, we spotted an interesting looking church perched on a hill at the end of the valley which we decided was somewhere worth exploring. In a way, the church had acted as an incentive for us to do our work. After hopping the occasional fence (no countryside walk is complete without a little bit of trespassing) we came into a tiny hamlet. Some horses came out of one of the houses (which generally isn’t where horses live) so we kept exploring, feeling safer knowing that one fewer house was inhabited by potentially shotgun-wielding country folk. We took precautions to get to the church, which looked more and more off-limits the closer we got. We skirted around the hill to avoid the other houses (which looked a lot more inhabited) and once at the church we ducked into the doorway. We wandered around the dilapidated structure for a little bit and avoided the upstairs because of the dodgy looking staircase. There wasn’t much to see but churches always seem to foster an atmosphere of wonder so we were happily intrigued by the building. As we headed back, deciding it was time for a trip to Crazy Bar, we took in the views down the valley whose rock walls were red, but the vegetation it housed was dotted with the vibrant colours of spring.
Final thoughts
From this post, you may now have more of an insight into my degree and how much I enjoy it. However, hopefully I also got across that this area of Italy is worth a visit for some picturesque hikes through forests and on the mountains. Piobbico doesn’t have much but everyone welcomed us with open arms and nights at Crazy Bar after a brilliant pizza can’t be argued with. Ciao.
