Part 1 of The Abandoned Railway, Sunday 22 April 2007

Emerging from a tunnel on the old Capranica- Civitavecchia railway

Rome Ostiense station, 8.30 in the morning. The air and sunlight are crisp, promising a perfect day. One by one the cyclists trickle in. Tickets are bought for the Rome-Capranica route on the line to Viterbo, and for the return journey from Civitavecchia, on the west coast Pisa-Rome line. There are relatively few people about so it’s a painless task. Otherwise, there are automatic machines. Breakfast is had at one of the two well-equipped bars.

Detail of the 1930s façade of Rome's Ostiense Station

The horizon outside the station is anxiously scanned for late-comers; the train leaves at 9.50. But no worries, everybody has made it. Then down the escalator to platform 14, the other side of the station, to board the double-decker commuter train. The Trenitalia staff encourage us to board the train, with our bikes, at the back. However, these trains have an odd feature: though bikes are allowed, there is nowhere to hang the bikes up, so nine bicycles have to be stowed in the corridors. It’s a curious omission; on the west coast main line, and on the main line to Naples, the ‘interregionali’ trains are well-equipped, with vans where bikes can be hung up by their front wheels.

On the train: left to right: Romolo, Alessandra, Flavio, Tiziana, Billy, Anthony, Richard and Alberto. Anthony must be the best-dressed of us: white shirt with cufflinks, if you look carefully.

Leaving on time

9.50 a.m.: the train leaves on time. Never rely on Italian trains leaving late: it happens less often than you may think. The train trundles over the Tiber by the ‘gasometer’, made famous in Ferzan Ozpetek’s movie “Le Fate Ignoranti”. Since the movie came out, property prices in this once seedy area have shot up. We stop at Trastevere, San Pietro (good view of the Basilica), San Filippo Neri and a series of further urban stations. At each one crowds of people get on, pushing their way past our awkwardly-stowed machines.

In the countryside
At last we’re in open countryside, heading north through the green, thickly wooded Etruscan lands. We stop at Bracciano, getting a glimpse of the lake and the imposing Odescalchi castle. Lake Bracciano is one of three crater lakes in north Lazio and will be the subject of another article.

After Oriolo Romano we’re on alert to get off at Capranica-Sutri. Finally at 10.20 the train sighs to a halt and we get off. We have to wait for the train to leave before we can cross the tracks (normally strictly forbidden, and enforced) and head for the bar.

Ready to go
Here we have last-minute refreshments and fill up our bike bottles (“boraccie” in Italian). We take a couple of extra mineral water bottles as a precaution. This is vital, for where we’re going it’s wild countryside, with nowhere to stop for food or drink. Packed lunches are already stowed in our bags.

Out of the station, turn right along the ‘strada provinciale’. Half a K down the road we look for a turning right, with a level-crossing sign. Then we’re straight over the tracks and, dead ahead, a narrow cinder path, partially obstructed by concrete blocks, beckons.

Origins of the railway
This is where the Orte-Civitavecchia ran from about the 1930’s to the 1960’s. It is hard to come by any firm information. The line was apparently built to carry goods, and some passengers, from Orte in the interior, down to Civitavecchia, a major port near Rome. In the 1960’s the line was closed amid, it’s said, considerable opposition. Then in the early 1990’s a proposal was made to reopen the railway. Considerable work was done, to judge by the relatively fresh state of the cutting and tunnel linings, before the project was abandoned. Meanwhile, the line, with its smooth roadbed, has become popular with riders, cyclists, joggers and the occasional trail motorcyclist. Certain sections are used by farmers for moving livestock.

Going like a train: Richard Dawton, 6, heads the convoy.

We pedal on, strung out in a long line, through cuttings, under bridges, through the beautiful springtime countryside. Three kilometres down the line, however, we meet our first tunnel.

The first tunnel. It's only 200 metres long, but it's on a curve.

The first tunnel
This one is about 200 metres long. It’s unlit of course, and because it curves to the right, you can’t see the end. Lights are essential here, the more the better. Our equipment ranges from improvised torches strapped onto handlebars to top-of-the range quartz-iodine headlights of the type favoured by speleologists. We keep to the right: all the tunnels have central drainage channels partially covered by concrete slabs, some of which have been removed or have slipped into the channel itself.

Out of the tunnel, we switch off lights and carry on. Tunnel entrances and exits are always places to stop and confer, fix saddle heights, lights, clothing and recalcitrant tyres. The second tunnel is short and straight; beside it is a house, whether farm or holiday house is unclear, complete with fierce dogs. Fortunately they’re behind a sturdy wire fence.

Obstacle course: barriers impede travel along the old railway, but cyclists can get over them.

The abandoned, half-ruined station of Blera comes into view after about ten Ks. This is one place you could stop off and have lunch or a drink somewhere, as the village of Blera is close by. But if you’re keen to do the whole run to Civitavecchia, it’s best to push on. This isn’t arduous as the route is at least level, and often downhill. The track is mostly light gravel giving way to larger stones especially as we move into the Tolfa Hills. So this ride wouldn’t be suitable for racers. Most of us have hybrid or mountain bikes.

The abandoned station of Civitella Cesi

Snakes alive

After 15 kilometres the track emerges from a cutting to cross a small provincial road. This spot is where the sight of a large grass snake slithering rapidly across the track isn’t uncommon. On one previous ride a snake unseated a friend’s 10-year-old daughter, who panicked on sight of the alarming (but harmless) reptile. “It was absolutely massive”, said her mother. “I’d never seen anything like it.” I have at home a perfectly-preserved sloughed snake skin which I found on one of the cutting walls.

Bridge on the River Mignone - and lunch

Ahead of us are the green Tolfa Hills, once harbouring a considerable bauxite-mining industry, now defunct. As we enter the hills the countryside gets rocky and more heavily wooded. Longhorned Maremma cattle wander across the track. And at Kilometre 30, the abandoned Monteromano Station comes into view. We have almost reached our lunch stop on the viaduct across the Mignone River.

The old railway crosses the Mignone River. A favourite for picnickers, especially on May Day.

Part Two coming up! Watch this space...