Early one winter morning, I took the train from Udine to the town of Tarvisio in the mountains of northern Friuli. The sky was clear, and for most of the way, the tracks ran parallel to the autostrada. As we approached the Alps, we passed through the area called Alto Friuli, with the little town of Gemona del Friuli, nestled in the foothills of Monte Chiampon, and then Venzone, a quaint village surrounded by a medieval stone wall. Both towns had been severely damaged in the 1976 earthquake. After passing through a long tunnel, we emerged in Pontebba, where the ground was now blanketed with snow. Another tunnel led to Ugovizza Valbruna—and more snow—and still another tunnel to Tarvisio, where the train pulled into its final stop.
The Tarvisio Boscoverde station was actually located some distance outside the town, but there was a connecting bus waiting to pick up passengers at the station. I didn’t know this, so I leisurely made my way to the restroom, thinking I had all the time in the world. By chance, I happened to follow two middle-aged women out of the station to where the bus was just starting its engine. We barely made it! If I had missed the bus, it would have been a long walk into town.
Having arrived in Tarvisio, I stopped briefly at the tourist office to inquire about the Sagra dei Cjalsòns, which I was hoping to attend in May of that same year. From there, I walked and walked along the highway—past the Valle Verde hotel and ski resort, past endless snow-covered fields—until, over an hour later, I reached the town of Camporosso.
In Camporosso, I rode the telecabina (ski lift) to the summit of Monte Santo di Lussari. It was prime ski season, and the slopes were crowded with skiers. Not a skier myself, I took a walk up to the lookout point above the lift platform. The path was icy, and I had to hold tight to the railing to keep from slipping—although once I did manage to end up knee deep in a snow bank. The view of the surrounding Giulian Alps was simply breathtaking—in every direction, craggy peaks capped with snow stood out against the crisp, blue sky.
On the opposite side of the summit was the mini village Borgo Lussari, where the tiny Santuario di Monte Lussari poked its steeple out from amid the snow-covered rooftops like a fairytale church. Legend says that in 1360 a shepherd knelt to pray atop this mountain and discovered hidden in the brush a wooden statue of the Madonna and Child. The patriarch of Aquileia soon ordered a small chapel built on that very spot.
Mass was being held in the sanctuary, so I didn’t enter. Instead, I surveyed the village for places to eat. There were only three restaurants to choose from. I decided on Albergo Ristorante Rododendro, where I warmed up inside their rustic chalet-style dining room and tucked into a hearty plate of goulasch con polenta. It was the perfect meal for a chilly day on a mountaintop!
The telecabina ride down the mountain was a bit harrowing when the cables suddenly jerked to a stop, leaving our compartment swinging dizzily from side to side. Of course, I made it safely to the bottom, and I immediately headed back to Tarvisio. The return trip took less than an hour—I must have stopped an awful lot for photos on the way that morning—but when I reached Tarvisio, everything was closed for the afternoon. I found the bus stop and sat and waited…and waited…and waited.
Finally when the tourist office reopened, I went in to inquire about the bus schedule. Apparently, I was waiting at the wrong stop, but I hadn’t missed the bus for there were only two per day, morning and afternoon, scheduled to coincide with the train to Udine.
I eventually found the proper bus stop (on a street parallel to the one the bus had dropped me off on that morning), but still had a long time to wait. The bus was late and was packed with British schoolgirls on some kind of sporting meet. The two women I had followed to the bus earlier were on the bus now returning to the train station. The three of us had a bit of a panic trying to catch our train. There were no signs announcing which track our train was on, and because the bus was late, we had no time to spare. In the sottopassaggio (underground passageway), the three of us ran up and down the stairs, checking each platform for our train. There were only two trains sitting in the station, and so when we found the platform for the first one, one of the women ran ahead to ask the conductor. Luckily this was our train, and it took off as soon as we boarded.
It was nearly time for dinner when I arrived back in Udine. I returned to my old stand-by, Osteria Al Vecchio Stallo, where I ordered the cjalsòns once again. I noted that, while still delicious, they were not as sweet as some of the other versions I had recently tried. For my second course, I had the stinco di maiale, a gigantic braised pork shank served with polenta. While I would never consider the food at Al Vecchio Stallo elegant or chic, portions are always substantial and thoroughly satisfying!
