19/08/2025 – Daily distance: 15.5 km – Total distance: 15.5 km

— Traveller, may I interview you?

Antonio gets up from the table with his friends and introduces himself in this way. I look at him, a bit puzzled, and to clarify he points at my backpack:

— You’ve got a backpack, you’re a traveller!

I think to myself: here we go again! Just a little earlier someone else had come up to me and, with a conspiratorial air, said:

— Get out of Ururi while you still can! I warned you!

It seems that all the most eccentric characters in town are drawn to the “stranger with the backpack.”

But let’s go in order. After a sunny day I arrive in Ururi and, as part of my daily ritual, I stop at the first bar: a cold beer and a bit of rest. It’s here that Antonio appears with his question. I decide to play along:

— I’m walking along the transhumance routes, the tratturi. I want to map them, as far as possible.

Usually, when I say this, the person in front of me gives me a blank stare and asks what tratturi are (and I immediately imagine they’re thinking of a tractor). But not Antonio. His eyes light up and he replies:

— Many tratturi pass through here. I myself took part in the transhumance with the Colantuono family.

At that point I’m genuinely intrigued: maybe he’s not as eccentric as I thought. I ask him a few questions, while his friends try to stop me:

— If he starts talking, he’ll never stop!

And that’s exactly how it is: Antonio is a torrent in full flood. He talks about his transhumance experiences, and I realise how different his point of view is from mine, which is more “academic.” I think of tratturi as lines with a name and a start and end point: Celano–Foggia, from Celano to Foggia. Period. He, instead, sees them as a road network: to get from one place to another you turn here, then there… names matter little, what matters is the route.

He gives me an incredible amount of details, some already known to me, others completely new. For example: shepherds tried to keep their flocks apart, leaving at least three days between the passage of one group and the next, so the grass would have time to grow back and the risk of spreading disease would be reduced. To coordinate, they used reed pipes: if a branch of the tratturo had just been used, the shepherd would take a different direction.

At the end of the conversation, Antonio offers to take me to Montorio nei Frentani, the highest village in the area, from which one is said to have a spectacular view of the tratturi network.

We set off along broken, closed-to-traffic roads, chosen specifically because they offer panoramic views. Every now and then Antonio stops and points out a shape in the landscape: yes, he’s right, they really are tratturi. When we reach Montorio, unfortunately, low clouds limit visibility. In theory, on clear days, you can see the Maiella and even the sea. Never mind: the view is worth it anyway.

Before heading back, we also pass through Larino, where Antonio improvises as a guide, telling me about local customs. He’s known there too: people greet him in the street.

In the evening, back in Ururi, I end the day in the only place where you can get food: a pub, with a hamburger. While I eat, I think it’s a shame I didn’t have more time to talk to Antonio. Who knows how many other stories he would have shared. I didn’t even ask for a phone number to contact him again. Brilliant of me, really!

You may ask: …and what about the day’s route? As expected, the Ururi–Serracapriola tratturello is now completely paved. I added two small dirt-road detours: in the first I had to cross a field, but apart from that, the route didn’t present any particular difficulties.

Track of the day