Eugi Gufo's siteEugi Gufo

It may seem unusual, but only in the summer of 2017 — and purely by chance, thanks to a friend’s Facebook post — did I learn of the existence of Monte Isola. At the first suitable opportunity, I went to see it. Those arriving, as I did, via Sulzano might not immediately realise that the island is in fact that mountain separated from the mainland by a strip of water only a few hundred metres wide.

The boats connecting the island to Sulzano run frequently (every 15–20 minutes) and, with no intermediate stops, take between five and seven minutes to reach the opposite shore.

Why depart specifically from Sulzano? Not only because of the short crossing time, but also because Sulzano is easier to reach by train for those coming from Milan. Whenever possible, I test the accessibility of the places I visit by public transport. Transport efficiency remains one of the most reliable indicators of a settlement’s livability.

Many others seem to follow the same logic. Arriving shortly before 11:00, I found a queue sufficient to fill two boats (I was among the last to board the second). After ten minutes, I noticed that behind me stood a line long enough for another six or seven departures. The practical conclusion: arrive earlier or later if you prefer not to wait. The warning signs at the entrance are less alarming than they appear — bicycles and prams simply use a separate access point.

Upon landing at Peschiera Maraglio, the obvious decision concerns the route: follow the shoreline, cross the mountain, or combine both. If arriving in the morning, walking westward is advisable. The lakeside path offers little shade, and facing the sun continuously makes appreciation unnecessarily difficult. The waterfront possesses a classical kind of beauty.

At one point I realised I had arrived thirteen months too late: in June 2016 it would have been possible to walk the same route across floating platforms and approach a private islet more closely. The yellow lines on the sign mark the wooden walkways.

The private islet looks as follows (there is another on the opposite side of the island):

The local architecture leaves a generally positive impression, though I did not encounter individual masterpieces.

More concerning are certain new constructions. Even within such an attractive environment, I would hesitate to purchase one.

Something older and more promising appears: a fortress.

Reaching it requires climbing what may be called a small mountain — or perhaps more accurately a hill. The only real difficulty lies in locating the path. I saw no directional signs, yet even with my unreliable sense of orientation I eventually succeeded. The ascent offers forest and island views worth the effort.

At the summit: a locked gate and the familiar «private property» notice. Given the apparent absence of owners or dogs, and the moderate height of the barrier, entry would not have been technically complex. A closer inspection, however, revealed a primitive but effective anti-tourist feature. I will come better prepared next time.

Continuing my ethnographic observations nearby, I discovered a large camping area only a few metres from the fortress.

Despite the presence of a well-constructed mountain barbecue, traces of open fires are visible in the grass. Someone presumably stayed overnight.

A positive aspect is the total absence of litter throughout the camping area. More curious is the coexistence of this cleanliness with a complete absence of bins. Bins appear only along the lakeside — often of original design and consistently adapted for separate waste collection.

The good quality of street furniture extends to the benches — aesthetically pleasing and comfortable — though their quantity is clearly insufficient. The few available specimens are regularly occupied by determined groups of visitors.

Perhaps this scarcity relates to the island’s evident enthusiasm for sport, judging by the number of facilities.

Or perhaps it encourages visitors to occupy the seating available in cafés and restaurants. In any case, the commercial sector appears primarily oriented toward tourist needs.

Public transport, on the other hand, serves the resident population directly. These small yellow buses circle the island and connect settlements not facing the lake.

The design of the stops varies considerably.

Public transport is essential because Monte Isola is closed to private car traffic. The only inanimate vehicles available to residents and visitors are these:

And this?

In reality, the island is not entirely free of cars (environmental purists may take a deep breath). Institutional and administrative vehicles are present.

As are certain agricultural machines.

There is only one petrol station on the island. The pricing clarifies the meaning of monopoly.

New vehicles or those required for major works arrive here:

In such a setting, boats are naturally more common. Local trucks, for example, take this form:

A private mooring:

The traditional craft production of wooden boats has slowed in recent decades, but remains active.

No boat, however carefully constructed, survives everything (this is not a submarine but possibly an unfortunate docking manoeuvre).

It is unclear how active fishing currently is. Informational panels in one of the villages describe a rich and varied aquatic fauna.

Everything above the waterline may be observed with the help of these binoculars:

Optical instruments are unnecessary to notice the unusual method of planting bald cypress trees (Taxodium distichum) along certain stretches of the waterfront. If I understand correctly, the concrete rings serve only during the early years of growth.

Less comprehensible elements also exist: for example, the system of house numbering…

… or the functioning of the municipal Wi-Fi network (after approximately fifty authentication attempts, I withdrew).

… or the intended recipient of this monument under construction (dedicated, perhaps, to fallen oenologists? Or to the engineers of the Flintstones family vehicle?).

Despite my limited enthusiasm for conventionally touristic photography, Monte Isola offers architectural interest. Those with traditional preferences may consider two churches. The first is the parish church of San Michele — simply pleasant.

There, for the first time in my life, I encountered leather kneeling cushions.

The second is the church of Santa Barbara…

… notable for its dedication to the patron saint of numerous difficult and hazardous professions.

In summary, Monte Isola is a beautiful and tranquil place (despite the steady flow of visitors, who come primarily for peaceful walks) where one might conclude one’s life calmly. I am neither Catholic nor particularly religious, yet a cemetery of this quality as a final residence possesses a certain appeal. Night walks would offer agreeable views.

Departure would not be overly complicated. Curiously, local graves often lack heavy stone slabs; some individuals buried in this manner died decades ago.

In any case, it was time to return to the mainland.

For practical reference: I completed the full circuit of the island on foot in under four hours, including several hill ascents and numerous pauses for photographs — and cigarettes.