Our last day in Italy. Where did the time go? We decide to stay fairly close to home as we need to pack and prepare for a morning flight. Although we had connected trains in the town of Domodossola, we have yet to properly visit. It seems like a great destination. The town sits next to the River Toce in the Ossola valley in view of the Alps.

The drive to Domodossola is easy, and I am able to check in for our flight in route. We start the day at the Sacro Monte di Domodossola. I love the mountain chapels with the carved biblical scenes. It seems a fitting end to the trip.

We park and walk uphill toward the chapels. The signs are confusing and we can’t find the starting chapel. Eventually, I discover that half of the chapels are downhill and half uphill. I want to do them in order, a true pilgrimage.

My husband thinks I am crazy to walk all the way down the mountain to town, only to have to walk back up. But I am determined. I want a true reflective pilgrimage walk as an end to our time among the sacred mountains. My chauffeur says he will wait for me…so I set off downhill.

The chapels start at the bottom of the mountain, in the town. The citizens of Domodossula go about their business, ignoring the two chapels in their midst. What is common place to them, holds significant meaning for me. A giant dog snarls and pushes his body through a fence as far as he can warning me away from the house next door. I am startled, but walked up the steps to the chapel anyway.

The chapels here follow the stations of the cross. The way is steep up the mountain. So steep that sometimes I have to lean forward and push hard into the climb. The area between chapels is parkland, with trees and Alpine views. I thank God for our time in Italy with each step. For the beauty of nature, for the ancient wonders, for the people in our lives, for the joy of discovery in our travels, for our health and safety. Step after step carries me upward.

My husband is waiting for me where I last left him. He has been watching others struggle up the mountain and is happy he hasn’t joined me (he recently had hip replacement and is on the mend). But now we climb together to the cathedral. School groups are having a tour given by the priest, so we quietly take in scenes of the crucifixion in the side chapels. We climb stairs on the exterior to visit the tomb of Jesus. More stairs take us to the mountain summit that overlook the Ossula Valley. A small prayer garden and the walls of an ancient castle occupy the mountain peak. The Sacro Monte again delivers a peaceful and joyful morning.

We head into Domodossula unsure of what to expect. After securing parking near the city center (a minor miracle), we walk into town. I make a quick stop into the local church and then we find a nice restaurant. We eat outside on the square where I fall in love with the town. It is bustling with people going about their lives. Big enough to have energy, it still feels quaint. Modern enough to have amenities, ancient enough to have deep cultural roots. English is limited, so we are immersed in Italiano.

After lunch, we spend the next few hours exploring on foot. We walk past schools and churches. The autumn trees are bright against the backdrop of mountains. At the far end of town, we find L’Officina di Chocolate. We have to walk up a driveway and enter what looks like someone’s back door. Inside is an art gallery of chocolate. The owner sculpts handmade chocolate into tiny masterpieces. The boxes are themed: doctors’ tools, sport’s equipment, the nativity, legal emblems, wine supplies. There is chocolate in more themes than I can process and each set is more beautiful than the last. After spending a lot of time admiring the skill, we make our selections and say our good byes.

Reluctantly, we leave Domodossula. We decide to drive back through the country. The sun is shining and it is our last day so meandering seems like the best choice. The tiny road takes us to Vogogna. It is a tiny town in the mountain valley that time forgot. There are four other cars in the small parking lot just off the roadway. Three old men sit on a bench watching the cars go by. We can see a castle on the hill but can not see a way to get to it.

We set off on foot to the Main Street by the city water fountain. The streets are winding and ancient. We are in a land time forgot. We walk uphill to a footpath by a stream. A small bridge takes us over the water and into a church. Candles light the dim interior at the feet of the Madonna, confirming that at least one other person had been this way recently.

We follow the path to the castle walls and walk along the perimeter. It is formidable in its day, a sentinel against invaders. The trail continues over the mountain, but we head back through the empty town. No stores that we can see, only massive and ancient homes conjoined in stone. An old woman comes out with her broom to watch us pass and then sweeps the dust behind us. It is as if Italy is telling us it is time to go.

We make one final stop in Arona. The lakeside walk (lungolago) is brisk and beautiful. We can never agree on a restaurant. I am a foodie and my husband has traditional tastes. After passing dozens of restaurants, we ended up back at an old favorite.

I try to savor each bite. We don’t know when or if we will be back this way again. But we do know that northern Italy will always be in our hearts.