Our last day in Italy. Where did the time go? We decided to stay fairly close to home as we needed to pack and prepare for a morning flight. Although we had connected trains in the town of Domodossola, we had yet to visit. It seemed 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 was easy, and I was able to check in for our flight in route. We started the day at the Sacro Monte di Domodossola. I have come to love the mountain chapels with the carved biblical scenes. It seemed a fitting end to the trip.

We parked and walked uphill toward the chapels. The signs were confusing and we couldn’t find the starting chapel. Eventually, I discovered that half of the chapels were downhill and half uphill. I wanted to do them in order, a true pilgrimage.

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

The chapels started at the bottom of the mountain in the town. The citizens of Domodossula went about their business ignoring the two chapels in their midst. What was common place to them, held significant meaning for me. A giant dog snarled and pushed his body through a fence as far as he could warning me away from the house next door. I was startled but walked up the steps to the chapel.

The chapels here followed 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 carried me upward.

My husband was waiting for me where I had left him. He had been watching others struggle up the mountain and was happy he hadn’t joined me. But now we climbed together to the cathedral. School groups were having a tour by the priest so we quietly took in scenes of the crucifixion in the side chapels. We climbed stairs on the exterior to visit the tomb of Jesus. More stairs took us to the mountain summit that overlooked the Ossula Valley. A small prayer garden and the walls of an ancient castle occupied the mountain peak. The Sacro Monte again delivered a peaceful and joyful morning.

We headed into Domodossula unsure of what to expect. After securing parking near the city center (a minor miracle), we walked into town. I made a quick stop into the local church and then we found a nice restaurant. We ate outside on the square where I fell in love with the town. It was bustling with people going about their lives. Big enough to have energy, it still felt quaint. Modern enough to have amenities, ancient enough to have deep cultural roots. English was limited, so we were immersed in Italiano.

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

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

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

We followed the path to the castle walls and walked along the perimeter. It was formidable in its day, a sentinel against invaders. The trail continued over the mountain, but we headed back through the empty town. No stores that we could see, only massive and ancient homes conjoined in stone. An old woman came out with her broom to watch us pass and then swept the dust behind us. It was as if Italy was telling us it was time to go.

We made on final stop in Arona. The lakeside walk (lungolago) was 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 tried to savor each bite. We don’t know when or if we will be back this way again. But we do know that north Italy will always be in our hearts.