Mi scusi, can you tell me where I can see the fossil of the dragon?’ I ask a passing priest in the 4th century basilica.
I’m on the islet of San Giulio on Lake Orta in northern Piedmont, and legend has it that in AD 390 a Christian preacher sailed over, defeated the monster and began building this church.
But now, the priest points to a notice on the wall, which states that the fossilised remains are no longer on display to the public. ‘Disappointing,’ I sigh, as my husband rolls his eyes.
Lake Orta is just 25 miles from Milan’s Malpensa airport. While its flashy neighbours Lake Maggiore and Lake Como – havens for the rich and famous – receive a lot more tourist attention, the Milanese like it that way. They refer to Lake Orta as La Cenerentola (Cinderella) because ‘she’s much prettier and unspoiled compared to her bigger sisters’.
Dragons or not, on the shuttle boat over to the island from the medieval town of Orta San Giulio, low brooding clouds hang between mountain and lake and a bell tolls from Benedettina Mater Ecclesiae.
Home to 75 nuns, Isola San Giulio (just 900ft long and 450ft wide) is nicknamed the Island of Silence, and the thoughtful abbess has created a circular meditation walk. Signs encourage contemplative moments, such as ‘Walls are in the mind’, and ‘Listen to the water, the wind, your steps’.
Back on the mainland, La Darbia hotel lies hidden in woodland between the lake and the Monte Rosa mountain, with views down to the water over its small vineyard. Its 20 apartments are stone-walled and rustic, in keeping with repurposed farm dwellings, and guests receive a welcome cake which sets the bar for the fabulous food on offer.
The restaurant is overseen by Matteo Monfrinotti who, very un-chef like, is not too grand to hang up your coat. I order the vegetarian ‘From the Garden’ tasting menu – something of an anomaly in a region known for rich, meaty dishes – and receive a chef’s thumbs-up. ‘It’s easy to cook beef or fish,’ Matteo tells me. ‘With vegetables, you have to be more creative.’ The raviolini pasta with chanterelles, and the pumpkin cream with hot chocolate sauce and thyme mousse, burst with autumnal flavour.
All narrow alleyways in traffic-free Orta San Giulio lead to lakeside Piazza Motta, with its faded pastel-hued houses of ochre, yellow and pink – one of the oldest is the House of the Dwarves, dating from the 14th century. A market has been held here on a Wednesday since 1228. I nibble on samples of salame al vino Barolo, and crumbly gorgonzola – fuel for making the steep cobbled climb to the Sacro Monte di Orta, a 16th century devotional path around 21 chapels.
Built between 1591 and 1750, the trail tells the story of St Francis of Assisi through 376 sculptures and 900 frescoes. The sculptures are not a highlight – at best they’re comically creepy – but the chapels are interesting as they chart Italian architectural style over two centuries, from the Renaissance era to the theatrical Rococo period.
With spectacular lake and mountain views, the Sanctuary of Madonna del Sasso is a dazzling white church that dominates the Western granite cliffside. We tackle the last few miles there on foot, passing fields of bell-adorned cows and hamlets where every house has a stockpile of chopped wood.
Back lakeside at Pella, a gelato from Antica Torre is the draw, where chocolate with grappa is one of the more unusual flavours. In Omegna, at the northern end of the lake, hiking trails run from the town – most popular is the Anello di Quarna, a loop through pinewoods to panoramic lake viewpoints – but it’s the Alessi Factory, family owned and famous for its quirky kitchenware, that I’m here to see.
You’ll need an appointment to snoop around the archive that holds every design prototype since the 1920s, from pewter coffee pots to bestselling Juicy Salif (designer Phillipe Starck got the inspiration for the iconic lemon squeezer while eating squid).
Tucked away in the hamlet of Crabbia, Osteria San Martino is a cosy restaurant with a menu as traditional as it gets, from its rather vague ‘rabbit osteria style’ to bagna cauda, which I order after hearing something about anchovies. What arrives is delicious: a creamy, bubbling fondue made with anchovies and garlic, served with chopped veg for dipping.
Back in La Darbia’s al fresco bar, next to the kitchen garden where plump purple aubergines hang and the air smells of rosemary, I watch the clouds roll in and out of the valley below and wait for the next big reveal of lake and mountains, noting that there’s really no need for dragons when the landscape is this special.
