You are unlikely to have heard of the Great Ring trail -- il Grande Anello dei Sibillini -- in Italy's Sibillini National Park since it's only five years old. But if you like the idea of hikin, g in spectacular mountain scenery while enjoying comfortable accommodation, good food and charming villages, read on.

In September, six Ottawa women, all in our 60s and 70s, hiked the nine-day, 120-kilometre Great Ring.

Why Sibillini? We wanted to hike in Italy. Online research led to Gillian Price's Italy's Sibillini National Park: Walking and Trekking Guide (publisher Cicerone), an excellent guidebook. The park's website ( www.sibillini.net;available in English) also helped with the route and accommodation options. The more we learned about the Great Ring, the more it appealed to us.

Scattered among the park's rugged limestone peaks and ridges are broad valleys, dramatic gorges, medieval chapels, wild boar, flocks of sheep, old villages made new again, modern rifugios (mountain hostels) and excellent meals.

So there we were in Visso, the start-off town, two days after leaving Canada, jet-lagged, carrying full packs, and heading straight up an excruciatingly steep trail that went on forever, or so it seemed. As we stopped for a break, dropping our packs like boulders, Joyce said: "Remember, this is what we came for," and we gazed upon a sea of mountains, little towns tucked into the valleys below and an eagle soaring above.

Then more climbing -- the guidebook promised an ascent of 800 metres and a descent of 430 metres that day -- through forest and across open ground.

Halfway along we stopped at the restored Sanctuary of Macereto, a resting spot for travellers since the 1500s, so we rested too and refilled water bottles at the sanctuary's spring.

Seven hours later we collapsed at the Cupi rifugio, severely out of sync with the four hours for 13 kilometres given in the guidebook.

At that moment Joyce had a brainwave: would our hosts Alessandro and Claudia be willing, for a small fee, to drive the stuff not needed on the trail to the next rifugio? They would indeed, so from then on we made sure of that service at each rifugio -- a small price to pay for the luxury of carrying just food, water, rain gear and first-aid kit in our packs.

At Cupi, we got into our standard post-hike schedule. First, we established linguistic capabilities. Our basic Italian, buttressed with pantomime, went a long way; occasionally the hosts spoke English or some French. Then the hosts set out coffee, tea and biscuits; we fell upon them as if we hadn't eaten all day.

Next came showers, laundry and ever more inventive ways to hang out the washing -- from shutters, over fences, on the top of stone walls -- before the sun set and the temperature dropped. Afterwards we strolled through the village, if there was one, with its gardens, chickens, churches (mostly closed now), and small stone houses lining narrow streets.

Dinner was usually at 7:30, the earliest we ravenous North Americans could persuade the hosts to serve it. We toasted the day's hike with local wine before tucking into the pasta course, followed by a second course of meat or fish, then salad and dessert. A few times we were offered vino cotto, a strong locally made drink taken in small glasses at the end of the meal.

Meals featured local products -- porcini mushrooms, pecorino (sheep cheese), lentils, cinghiale (wild boar), tomatoes and, always, homemade pasta. Every dinner menu was different and all were delicious. By 9:30 we were in bed -- some already asleep while the readers kept going with small book lights.

Breakfast the first day was typically European: coffee, tea, croissants, jam. Delicious, but not nearly enough to keep us hiking until lunch. At the second rifugio Christine asked for an egg at breakfast -- no problem, they said -- so after that we had eggs for breakfast every day. At the very last rifugio we met four American hikers -- the only other people we saw on the trail -- who were astonished about the eggs.

"How did you manage to get them for breakfast?"

"We asked."

The well-marked Great Ring trail filled our days with magnificent views of mountains, sharp ridges, fog-filled valleys, far-off towns. Once, we saw a sliver of the Adriatic Sea between peaks.

We munched on blackberries along sunny trails and admired pink orchids at the bottom of dark, damp forests. Occasionally the good walking surface broke up and had us stumbling up, down and across slopes of chunky limestone.

Flocks of sheep were everywhere on the high plains, accompanied by white guard dogs, shepherds, and black sheepdogs who did the herding. One afternoon, a grazing flock threatened to overrun us as we sat eating lunch. We heard a faint shout and a sheepdog tore along the side of the flock, moving it instantly far off to our left.

"Molto grazie!" we called to the shepherd, who waved to us from a slope far above.

Hikers and sheep find drinking water along the way at many natural springs. Usually a pipe flows into a series of four to six troughs, each one slightly lower than the one above, allowing many animals to drink at the same time. Some villages also had a public spring, occasionally built as a laundry with water flowing into one large stone tank (rinse) and from there into a second tank (wash) with inwardly-sloping, flat stone "washboards" for scrubbing.

The clang of bells always announced a herd of domestic animals -- sheep, goats, cows or horses. However, wild boar are not belled, so when Joyce suddenly spotted one on our trail through a dense forest, we were startled. Almost immediately afterwards Jo saw a female and a young one ahead; the female went left, the young boar right. Being Canadians, we knew about getting between a female and her young. But Jo gathered up our courage, saying: "Remember, we have to be the predators." So we carried on, singing, blowing whistles and yelling -- and probably driving every boar out of Sibillini.

Day Seven was a constant climb, mostly against a wind since we were crossing the flanks of Mount Vettore, the highest peak at 2,476 metres. We greeted the Great Ring's highest point at Forca di Giuda (1,793 metres) with cheers, photos to record our achievement and fabulous views of two eagles circling overhead and a dozen hang-gliders sailing the currents far above the mountain tops -- a high!

By Day Eight we had finally caught up with the guidebook's estimated hiking time -- six hours to cover 20 kilometres (ascent: 450 metres; descent: 1,100 metres) -- and on Day Nine we descended into Visso to celebrate our return with a bottle of sparkling Prosecco.

The Great Ring is not for everyone. Although the guidebook describes it as "easy to average" and "without the long steep climbs and knee-destroying descents" of more difficult trails in Sibillini, it is still the most strenuous hike that some of us have ever done. In comparison, Gatineau trails are a stroll in the park.

It is a good idea to make reservations for each night -- to make sure the innkeeper is on site and has supplies for dinner, breakfast and packed lunches. Making reservations was not easy. Some rifugios were not open when we started to plan the trip and the mountain communication grid is unreliable. A special molto grazie to the Italianspeaking friends who helped.

The Great Ring is easily accessed from Rome, but because the trail is so new, it has not really been discovered yet. This is sure to change with good information in English and the rave reviews of returning hikers.

If you love hiking among mountains in an ancient territory and with a good bed and good food at the end of the day, Sibillini is the perfect place. Go and enjoy!

Barbara Riley is a retiree who lives in Ottawa.

IF YOU GO

Where to stay: In Visso, we stayed at Hotel Ristorante Elena, a lovely and comfortable start to the hike. On the trail, we used rifugios except in two locales where they were not available. Near Rubbiano, we stayed at Agriturismo Le Castellare, where we ate with the family.

Making reservations: Accommodation options are found in Gillian Price's guidebook, on the Sibillini National Park website, and via Googling the name of the locale. We made reservations via e-mail using Google's translation option. Italian-speaking friends phoned for us a couple of times due to unreliable communications. Only two places requested a partial advance payment, by bank transfer.

Cost: Nights in rifugios -- including dinner, bed, breakfast and packed lunch -- were 47 to 50 euros (or about each $64 to $68).