Abruzzo

The region changes with every few kilometres, though it never feels like a series of separate places. Along the coast the land flattens into vineyards and sandy terraces, and the towns have a brisk, sociable air, with fishing boats drawn up on the shingle and cafés spilling onto the promenades. Turn inland and the hills rise in tiers of olive groves and wheat, with stone villages stacked on their crests like cargo. Further west the ground becomes harder and higher. Limestone peaks break through the beech woods, and the valleys narrow into gorges where the air turns sharp and the silence is almost physical. Each zone keeps its own pace, its own dialect of food and craft, and its own sense of how far it is from the sea.

A day spent here can begin in the mountains, on a path through the Majella massif where the view opens over a dozen valleys at once and the only sound is wind across the scrub. By midday you can be in a hill town such as Sulmona, where the medieval streets are lined with workshops still making sugared almonds by hand, and where the old Roman aqueduct stands among the rooftops like a fact nobody has bothered to hide. L'Aquila, the regional capital, is a city of pale stone and restored churches, rebuilt slowly and with visible care since the 2009 earthquake, and its cathedral square rewards an unhurried stop. Later, the road drops to the coast, where the wooden trabocchi, the fishing platforms built out over the water on long timber arms, cast long shadows across the rocks. A plate of grilled fish eaten with the sea within reach makes the whole route feel like one continuous journey rather than a set of destinations.

What stays with you is the way the region keeps its contrasts in balance. The mountains give the coast its wind and its clear light, and the coast gives the hill villages their produce and their sense of being connected to the wider world. Abruzzo rewards people who are prepared to slow down, to walk rather than drive, and to let an afternoon wander. Leaving it, you find yourself already calculating how to come back, picturing the ridge in the early light and the boats at rest on the shore below it.