The sun rose over that field by the west foot of Mont Corvo we’ve made home for the last night. The slim figures of the cypresses surrounding us were not befitting the purpose of offering us sufficient shade to spend there a relaxing morning. So we needed be quick packing everything and get the hell out of there before the sun smacking becomes savage.
We let gravity convey us down the road to the valley of Sentino River, and asap were we pedaling through the streets of Sassoferrato. We stopped at the first super market we encountered and filled a bag with supplies for two days, as whether we were to find another shop from there on was highly doubtful. We made yet another stop at a faucet we found in the centre of the town to fill all our bottles with fresh water. And took the road to the east out of the town.
Soon after, we stopped at a nice and quiet, grassy spot by the side of the road, enjoying a great panoramic view over the entire town of Sassoferrato and the mountains encircling it. We laid the mat aground and started working on our dinner and a cup of Greek coffee, of which still some is left. I also got to finally enjoy a proper fag. The pack of half a kilogram of tobacco I’d got with me from Greece, as I could expect, had started to go bad last days. Until, the previous morning, I found it was all penetrated by disgusting, greenish mould. Sadly, I had to through it all away. And, this morning now, I got a fresh pack of Golden Virginia tobacco.
Lunch was done, and we took the road again. We continued through the valley towards Genga town. And right before the steep road ascending up the hill where the town is situated, we took a little road to the west, leading into the heart of the Parco Regionale di Frasassi e Gola della Rossa. Our goal was the Fossi lake; a little lake we’d spotted on the map with a camping site operating by its south shore. The idea was to head over to the north shore and camp there for free for the rest of the day.
As we arrived there, however, instead of a camping site, we only found the ruins of what used to be a camping site before it was abandoned, apparently many years ago. Furthermore, the whole lake was fenced, and there were numerous signs informing that the lake is private property, and warning of sanctions imposed against trespassers.
Unwitnessed trespassing is not trespassing, a saying says… We pushed the heavy, rusted iron gate and we proceeded in the premises of the aforetime camping site.
It was a great afternoon. The lake was private; so, as we squatted it, it was technically our private lake! We camped under the foliage of some small oaks, where two old benches were also found. We took a bath and washed clothes in the lake. I then took the bike and went about a kilometer up to fetch water from the spring. All was done. We spent a calm and exhilarating afternoon enjoying the placidity of the place, in company of a large swallow flock flying ceaselessly in playful formations over the lake and singing merry tunes.
Dusk time… dinner time. We made an exquisite bush dinner with rise and lentils in tomato sauce spiced with a few laurel leaves we cut from one of the many laurel trees mingling with the oaks and poplars in the perimeter of the lake.
Night fell. The black sky was swarmed by bright stars. The silhouette of the surrounding forest and the lake surface were left to darkness. An owl paid us a brief, curious visit, unaccustomed as she was to visitors. She stood a few moments on the wooden fence before the lake. And then she fluttered away swiftly, disappearing again into the darkness. Another day of this beautiful trip was over.