Text and images by Alessandro Franza
There is a moment, when walking here in the Abruzzo National Park, when the forest changes its voice. It is nothing dramatic: the silence grows denser, the rustling sounds different, a faint track appears on the ground. That is often when I truly begin to explain what my work is about.
Being a mountain guide here does not simply mean leading people along a trail. It means helping them understand a living, inhabited and complex landscape. A place where human beings are not alone.
In recent years, wolves and bears have been widely discussed, often in heated and overly simplistic terms. I encounter them differently: through their tracks, the signs of their presence or those rare and precious sightings, whether from afar or at close range. They are always moving and intense experiences that remain etched in the memories of those fortunate enough to share them with me.
Like the time I was walking up a valley with a small group and a wolf crossed the trail a few dozen metres ahead of us. It paused for a moment, just long enough to look at us, before disappearing into the forest. There was no sudden escape and no threat. Only distance, respect and the awareness that we were guests.
Another evening, just above a village, we watched a mother bear and her cubs moving slowly through the bushes. We were far enough away to be safe, yet close enough to understand that, for those who live here, there was nothing extraordinary about the scene.
This is often what surprises people most: the genuine possibility of observing wild animals in their natural habitat without having to venture into places that are remote or entirely untouched. Here, nature and human presence have always been intertwined.
Dozens and dozens of encounters have found their place among my memories. Whether with bears or wolves, eagles, snakes or chamois, the emotion is always the same.
This is also why I chose to move here. I come from Campania, where I began working in the mountains, but here I found something different: a landscape where the permanent presence of large wild animals is not an exception, but an essential part of the environment.
Besides its ecological value, this presence is also one of the reasons I am able to do this work today. Many of the people I guide come here precisely for this reason, with the hope—never guaranteed, but entirely real—of observing these animals in the wild.