August 13th, 2018 - I am lucky again today: one of the sons of the farm owners is already up to prepare breakfast for me. I'll resume my journey with a full stomach!

It is a very particular summer, where sunny days alternate with rainy ones. Consequently, the streams that are normally dry at this time of year are full of water. The journey begins with a small ford: off with the shoes and let's cross it! I fear it won't be the only one, because I've heard that the pedestrian bridge over the Tammaro River is no longer passable. The rumor turns out to be true and the cart track suddenly stops in front of a wall of plants and bushes. I don't give up and make my way through the vegetation to look for a crossing point. After a thousand efforts, I come across a rather deep body of water and see the bridge on the other side: it is still standing, but unreachable. The Tammaro River has obviously breached the embankments and broken the access ramp. It's pointless to try to ford, as no passages can be seen on the other side of the basin. I go back, preparing myself to face a long detour, but before giving up, I make one last desperate attempt by looking out over a field on the side of the tratturo: the farmers have opened a ford for agricultural vehicles, so I manage to cross the stream without even getting my feet wet!

I resume the journey by climbing the side of a hill, thinking sadly about the money that was spent to build the bridge only to leave it abandoned and neglected. If the access ramp was restored, the structure could be used again since it is still intact.

Accompanied by these thoughts, I reach the top of the hill, at the end of which a vast plateau opens up. The tratturo is very visible, and the cart track that runs through it is well maintained. After passing a cross, probably placed at the holl summit, I come across the first tratturo milestone. The previous year, I hardly saw some of them at the end of the journey and now I encounter one in the middle of the path, in plain sight. And it's not the only one. Shortly after, I come across another, and then another... it seems that in this area, someone worked hard to preserve the vestiges of the tratturo.

At a certain point, the tratturo turns left to avoid crossing Santa Croce del Sannio. The path remains well-maintained, and in fact, as I approach an area with wind turbines, I notice that someone has cleared a path through the field stubble, specifically emphasizing the boundary markers of the tratturo, which are also quite stunning. These are boundary stones placed on the borders of several noble houses' lands and, therefore, they are inscribed with their respective crests.

The cleaning work of the tratturo is really well done: it doesn't seem to be intended for agricultural vehicles but rather for hikers who, like me, want to retrace the old pastoral paths. We are in the upper Val Tammaro, where there is a community that particularly cares about the tratturo. As proof of this, explanatory signs are continuously encountered.

As I approach Circello, the tratturo disappears under the asphalt. It's a shame, but at least the road is not busy. As I climb towards the village, I have an unpleasant encounter: an Abruzzese sheepdog blocks my path growling. I maneuver to pass the dog at a safe distance while also avoiding the nearby house, which I assume belongs to its owner. But to no avail, it also moves to block me. I don't know what to do when I realize that fortunately, the GPS track I'm following leaves the road to enter a cart track: problem solved. I hear the dog growling behind me, but it doesn't seem to be following me. I turn around and see in the background, from a window of the house, what I imagine is the dog's owner: he doesn't even seem to be calling it back. This won't be the only time. Like last year, I entered an area where dogs are left free to roam outside the properties without any control.

As I tackle the final climb to the village, a car passes me by. The driver, seeing me struggling in the sun, makes fun of me. When I reach the end of the climb, I find the same car stopped with the hood open. The driver, who is trying to restart it without success, looks at me disconsolately:

"Maybe you're better off walking..."