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Majestic
Maiella
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Barren
yet beautiful, harsh yet haunting, Mount Majella
in Abruzzo is half invocation, half curse.
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 As
curses go Maiella is as good as you'll get.
Local speech is peppered with it. Indeed the best
curses use the big things that are close to us,
even better if they are divinities, and in Abruzzo
things don't get much bigger, closer, or divine
than the Maiella Range. It's not that the Abruzzesi
have anything against Maiella, quite the opposite
- they summon it in their hour of need to give them
strength to react against life's many adversaries.
In this light Maiella is a worthy curse,
perfect - if curses can be perfect.
Maiella takes its name from the goddess Maja who,
after years of searching for her son, ended her
days here. Maja was a harsh and upright mother who
was loving and gentle with her children. The primitive
churches and hermitages present in even the range's
most inaccessible valleys and gorges are a constant
reminder of the spiritual importance of these peaks
which, wherever you are in the area, seem to fill
the horizon. So close, you could reach out your
hand to touch them. Yet the closer you get the further
they seem to become.
The Maiella Range is part of the Apennines,
just south of Gran Sasso. Like all ranges its peaks
stand out like proud warriors ready for battle,
and we, the mountaineers, muster up our courage
to conquer them as quickly as possible. But once
the battle is won the mountains unfold before your
eyes, welcoming you home to a rough, elemental yet
maternal world. On first impressions Maiella
seems inhospitable with its deep gorges and
craggy summits, storms flare up and flash by, limestone
plateaux remind you of the Central Asian Steppes
and then there are the caves, the forests and tumbling
waterfalls . . . Wolves, eagles and bears still
populate this land. A land which once belonged to
the sea. Sit and turn your curses on the shells
and sharks' teeth beneath your feet. And yet there
are no real reasons to come here. Walkers fear its
endless trails and climbers lack a challenge in
its heights. Don't forget, this is one of the last
places in Europe where you can still experience
the sublime pleasure of losing yourself in the immensity
of nature.
 Majella.
A strong, savage mother who can bring a smile to
your face. A mother who, like all mothers, has nourished
her children for thousands of years. This mixture
of harsh rock and green valleys attracted different
types of settlers. The high mountain pastures brought
riches in dues and taxes as the shepherds passed
through with their flocks on the yearly journey
from Apulia to Central Italy. Hermits crossed the
land, the most illustrious being Pope Celestine
V up until Teodoro Paterra in recent times. Bandits
and thieves took refuge in these hills, cursing
fortune and the law alike.
The landscape is breathtaking, echoes ringing out
to the horizon. Its ruggedness and inclemency impassion
rather than discourage. Some have tried to market
Majella, reducing her majesty to a mere symbol of
natural beauty. Those who really fall under her
spell rarely mention her name, lest ill befall her.
And on the way down, passing through those little
villages clinging to her rock, whose names recall
the local crafts - stone, wood, copper and lace,
you take comfort in hearing her name repeated time
and time again. That Mannaggia Maiella, which,
rather than curse or damnation is a laconic, almost
solemn, way of currying favour. A throwback to pagan
times, an incantation rather than ill omen.
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PAOLO MORELLI |
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August
2001
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THE SURVIVOR'S 
