Thursday 17th September 2026

Alba to Monforte

Up early ready for Day 1 of the Bar to Bar walk and it’s spectacular weather in which to walk.

Breakfast with a huge crowd of bus tourists and what we subsequently found out 7 Swedes on the same walk.

All 9 loaded onto a bus driven by a bleary eyed Italian who obviously failed spatial awareness classes when he gave up on trying to load the luggage and a few of us had our suitcases as travelling partners.

It was a fast and furious ride to our starting point Barolo where a group vote (in Swedish) decided we should add 3 kilometres to the day and backtrack to a top of the hill viewpoint.

Whilst not unhappy with the 360 degree view of every vineyard coveted slope , the extra Kms of pretty steep downhill walking on everything from dirt tracks to tarmac to tractor scrapes through vineyards were a bit of a worry on the ‘Easy’ grading assigned to the walk.

The Piedmont region has no equivalent in Australia to the mountainous landscape in which vineyards are established. Patchworkquilt like scenery greeted the eye as they rolled across the hillside. Not unexpectedly upon most hilltops were small to medium towns, many through which we would pass on a rollercoaster trail where ‘flat walking’ was not an option.

The vines were still full of lush red sweet and juicy grapes, with workers trimming the vines to let in the last vestiges of autumn warmth.

After an hour and a half or so we negotiated a steep grass track into Barolo with its famous Wine Museum situated in the old castle and every second shop offering an array of wine where one hoped the flavour matched the price.

Took a little break and worked out our navigation App which is fabulous. It is a bit like the car GPS with both visual route tracking and audio guidance to keep you on track.

In what would become a feature of the day the track to our next town Novello , about 2-3 hours away, started with an upward climb to a hilltop adjacent to the one we just shimmied down. Same mix of tracks with many wandering through the vineyards and close and personal with workers and equipment.

Getting towards picking time the grapes are a target for the birds and in Hitchcock like scenes the birds sat on the electricity vines eyeing off the next feed. The vines in many places are covered with mess to ward of the birds, so droppings on the ground are the main target.

The farms/wineries themselves are huge establishments with a mix of rough sheds and pretty opulent tasting buildings and houses. At 11am many of the tasting rooms were filling with tourists on this famous wine and food route.

Unsurprisingly, a long uphill finish had us in the pretty village of Novello which was big enough to have a school where kids were filing out to go home for Siesta time.

Again it was wine shops and restaurants dominating the street front. Lots of restaurants were closed for private functions to accommodate the bus tours. Luckily webspied a small panini shop to grab lunch, partaken with a glass of nebbiolo, which happened to be last sale before the owner of tasting shop headed off for his own siesta. He was happy for us to leave the empties on the table rather than wait around.

We ran into a couple of the other groups in what turned out to be a day of the hare and tortoise. They would swish by but only for us to amble on up and pass them as they rested at the top of the hills.

Whilst they stayed looking for an open restaurant we took in the scenery and a deep breath before leaving town passing a church with not a religious statue out front but a huge wine press- seems to indicate what gets worshipped up here.

First it was the thighs twinging as we headed steeply down out of town and then the calves as we spent long periods heading up roads in the vineyards which might be better described as tractor scrapes- thank God they were dry. The good part about the ups was the time to stop and take in the views- which many a picture could not do justice to. It also gave you time to ask yourself the question of whether walking the streets of home was adequate preparation.

Back on the tarmac road for a last haul into town on top of the hill-bloody Atruscans and Catholics- to wander into Monforte d’Alba which was absolutely buzzing with tourists filling the bars and cafes.

Our hotel was right on the squire and our rear of building room gave magnificent views into the hills.

Spent the afternoon wandering around the village including conquering the steepest hill of the day to visit the grassed amphitheatre where the annual jazz festival is held.

Trip down was much easier as we wend our way through the residential area which included one house painted bright blue , for reasons unknown, before ending up in a small bar doing what the tourists do- sipping wine and tasting the cheese offerings from the region.

Did a wander around town dodging a horde of cyclists as we tried to find a dinner spot. Eight restaurants later we found nothing much better than our own hotel.

A little siesta of our own and researching tomorrow’s trail,which again is a sawtooth pattern, wiled away enough time to take us to dinner and the inevitable great fate of food and wine.

Dragged the weary bones upstairs hoping predicted rain stays away tomorrow and also waking hour is after 430.