We began our journey where we should have finished – on the shore of Lake Orta – for this small lake is the perfect place to wile away a couple of days in tranquil contemplation. San Giulio is small medieval town of remarkable beauty. The elegant palazzi and more simple village houses create an intriguing blend of styles from medieval to the C18th with the smart 19th villas at the fringes. Today it is a little faded, the briskly renovated rubbing shoulders with the occasional derelict building – the ultimate in shabby chic.

The English Nose was in heaven simply sitting in the lake side piazza which over looks the small and ridiculously picturesque Isola di San Giulio. Legends say this was inhabited by dragons until a fearless Christian chap by the name of Giulio spread his cloak on the water and sped to the island to banish said serpents using his staff much in the same way as standup paddle-boarder. He was rewarded with a sainthood and built a basilica – all back in the 3rd century.

There is plenty to observe from the terrace cafes in the Piazza Motta while sipping rich, bitter expresso to which I am addicted. This charming piazza, lined with arcades, has a jewel of a town hall – pretty, painted and C16th.

Soon after breakfast, tourists who arrive from other larger lakes, Maggiore is just 7 miles to the East, are miraculously absorbed into the medieval alleyways and onto the smart boats, with polished wood and brass accessories, which ferry them to the Island and return with passengers who will have been amazed by the beautiful C14th (and later) frescoes in the basilica. The original church has been rebuilt several times, however some of the C12th version remains and the black marble pulpit from this date is a stunner.

Take my advice and visit when the water is calm and the sun shines. A sudden storm left us stranded and cold on the island until the wily boatmen waited shore side to fill their boats with passengers for the outward journey after the storm. Today the island is largely devoted to a Benedictine convent and a silent order to boot. It was late – would the sisters have offered us a bed for the night? I wonder.

Nuns were invisible on the island, but not so in San Giulio, where in the early evening, they would gather on the promenade overlooking the abbey to chat and eat ice cream. We enjoyed speculating whether they were visitors admiring the stunning convent or escapees from that silent order. Some wore sturdy shoes with their habits, others snazzy trainers and they clearly enjoyed a good chinwag.

The English Nose loves a curiosity and San Giulio has a humdinger – the Sacro Monte di San Francesco. This strangest of devotional paths wends its way across a woody hillside above the town past 21 dimly lit frescoed chapels.

Built between 1591 and 1750 the chapels are devoted to Saint Francis of Assisi and display significant moments in his life using tableaux of life sized terracotta people and animals… hundreds of dusty statues. The early examples, including the birth of the St Francis above, are whimsical and entertaining with their engaging animals, but as the journey progressed the figures became oddly and somewhat unnervingly life-like. Some were modelled on real people in the village… eerily frozen in a moment in time.

Come evening time and the English Nose was drawn to a buzzy cafe and restaurant on the Piazza Motte. Restaurant Venus will dish up a good looking pizza, if a touch reluctantly in the evening. We overhead waiters dissuading people “it will take at least an hour,” but well said when the dishes are delicious, fresh, imaginative and a delight to look at. Many are based on fish. We dined there twice and only wish we had done so the first evening. We had delicate grilled fish, vibrantly fresh fish carpaccio, creamy risotto, crunchy salads and one of the richest and delicious chocolate puddings… ever. We drank Prosecco – we couldn’t possibly drink Champagne in Italy – Dolcetto and Arneis, Lake Orta is the only lake in Piedmont, and perfumed, sweet and thankfully low alcohol Moscato
d’Asti DOCG. Don’t be sniffy about the latter, it was perfect chilled with pudding and coped admirably with the dense chocolate offering.

But best of all was the setting. Our table stood at the water’s edge; the lake all but lapping our legs in the evening warmth. The mellow pastels of the old buildings round the piazza were bathed in the ruddy glow as the setting sun threw a golden trail over the lake before sinking behind the basilica on the island. Never have I dined in a more beautiful place.