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COEXISTING – ALESSANDRO FRANZA IN THE WILD HEART OF ABRUZZO

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.

Increasingly, my work is also about this: showing that coexistence is not an abstract idea, but a tangible reality.

I do this by taking the people who walk with me to meet local farmers and producers, who are among those with the deepest understanding of this balance. Bears live here, and yet this is where the best honey I have ever tasted is produced. Wolves live here, but sheep, cattle and goats still graze freely in the pastures. Deer live here, but aromatic and edible herbs are cultivated and transformed into outstanding local products.

This is not an easy or romantic form of coexistence. It requires work, care and constant adaptation: fences, livestock guardian dogs and long nights. But it also relies on a profound knowledge of the land and on an awareness that has almost been lost elsewhere: the understanding that we are not the only rightful inhabitants of these places.

I also tell this story through encounters with local residents, most of whom are aware of and proud to live in a landscape shared with wild animals. Not because they ignore the problems, but because they recognise the value of this coexistence.

When I take people into the mountains and share these stories, I see something change. Fear gives way to curiosity, and then to respect. They begin to understand that the wolf is not a threatening shadow in the forest and that the bear is not an intruder, but an integral part of this ecosystem, just like the beech trees, the deer and the streams.

This, too, is part of my work: building a bridge between those who arrive from elsewhere and view these animals with fear or suspicion, and those who grew up here knowing that sharing the land is the only possible way forward. It is not about convincing people, but about helping them see. Helping them listen. Bringing direct experience back to the centre.

Of course, my work is also about summits, effort and breathtaking views. But at this point in my life, I feel that helping people understand this fragile and precious balance is one of my most important responsibilities.

Because coexistence with large carnivores is not merely a local issue. It raises a question that concerns us all: what place do we want to occupy in the natural world?

Here, in the Abruzzo National Park, one possible answer already exists. You only need the patience to walk long enough to begin to see it.

Who is Alessandro Franza?

Alessandro was born near the beaches of Maiori, Amalfi and Positano: not exactly the setting one would associate with the mountains. Yet his adventurous spirit was drawn from an early age to the Monti Lattari rising above him. His curiosity and passion for these new landscapes led him first to work as a volunteer guide and then to pursue professional training. In 2015, he joined the Abruzzo Mountain Guides Association as a qualified Mountain Leader.