From San Martino in Pensilis to Serracapriola
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25/08/2025 – Daily distance: 23.7 km – Total distance: 141.0 km

I head back toward the tratturo, retracing the last few kilometres of yesterday. In the final stretch, dogs appear from every house along the road. Fortunately, they’re not too aggressive, but they still need to be kept at a distance with the trekking poles. You can tell we’re getting close to Puglia!

Once I reach the tratturo, the descent is gentle and the walk seems promising. As long as I stay on the ground packed down by farm vehicles, everything goes smoothly; but when I start encountering brambles, I’m forced to slow down and clear a passage. It’s not yet a critical situation, but if no one intervenes, there’s a risk the trail may close off in the future.

On the hill ahead, the tratturo seems to continue, but at first glance it doesn’t look very clear. And indeed, as soon as the climb begins, I immediately realise it won’t be easy: the path, usually flanked by two rows of reeds, is actually completely obstructed. The night’s rain has bent the stalks almost completely across the way. The only way to move forward is to shake the reeds in front of me, lift them with the poles, and slip underneath. I move slowly, soaked from head to toe, as if inside a car wash.

At the end of the ascent, when the reed bed thins out, I can pick up the pace again. The dirt track opens into a wide country lane. I’m still thinking about how lucky I was to get through when a pickup passes me, towing a red cart : it must be one of those used in the race held in San Martino in Pensilis.

Shortly afterward, another car stops. It’s Antonio. I wasn’t expecting him today. He has brought me a keepsake from the journey: a stone sculpture depicting Saint Michael the Archangel. He invites me to slip it into my backpack. I look at him, astonished: it weighs two and a half kilos! But Antonio insists, reminding me that shepherds used to carry stones as votive offerings along the tratturi, later destined for churches under construction. I point out that I’m not a shepherd, and that the stones were probably carried by mules. In the end, we reach an agreement : he will take the sculpture himself to Serracapriola for the final farewell.

Before I set off again, he says:
— But this one doesn’t weigh anything.
And he pulls out a bagpipe, playing it with great skill. He catches me completely off guard, and I admit that it moves me. We chat a little more. I tell him that, in fact, there is already a local project to promote the tratturi, the Cammino della Pace, which I discovered last year and whose markers I found again along the way. Unfazed, Antonio replies:
— Would you like to meet the Serracapriola coordinator?

Naturally, he knows the person — in fact, she. Without waiting for my approval, he grabs his phone and calls her. It’s early in the morning; I point out that she might still be asleep. No use: Mariachiara answers, and within seconds the meeting for the evening is set.

I say goodbye to Antonio and resume walking: it’s a long stage. Once the dirt road ends, the final 11 km toward Serracapriola remain. I’ll let you guess the conditions:

  • A) dirt track – B) asphalt
  • A) downhill – B) uphill
  • A) tree-lined – B) barren
  • A) cloudy – B) full sun

The correct answer? All B.

One kilometre from the finish, a car stops: they want to give me a lift. I thank them, but decline. I want to reach Serracapriola on my own two feet. I climb the final ramp, the steepest one: the bar awaits me.

When I reach my accommodation, a problem arises: getting the final stamp on my credential. The manager doesn’t have the facility’s stamp, but she turns out to be the town councillor for culture — so once again this year I manage to get an official stamp!

In the evening I am at dinner with Antonio, Mariachiara, her family, and some friends. I’d like to talk about the Cammino della Pace, but the atmosphere is friendly and relaxed, and the questions remain suspended. There will be time.

I am struck by the harmony of the group : people bound by an authentic friendship, the kind that lasts a lifetime.

As we wrap up, Mariachiara gives me a map. The next day, when I open it, I discover that it is the map of the tratturi I had been searching for so long. It now hangs in my study, next to Antonio’s sculpture.

I close the diary of this journey with a sincere thank-you to all the people who made it special. I hope the others won’t mind, but a special thanks goes to the “sprite” Antonio.

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