Twelve hours at the speed of the slowest ewe: reserve a private drove road day in the Apennines

Sunrise pen to evening fold

You meet at the fold at half past six, while the animals are still penned, and the first hour is hard to describe because nothing about it is quick: the gate opens, the lead ewes go, and the rest follow at their own speed. The old drove road runs the ridge, wide enough for a hundred animals abreast, because that is what it was cut for. Mid morning there is a stop at a spring, where the shepherd waters them and you eat standing up. The middle of the day is walking, watching the dogs work, and long stretches with nobody saying anything. Late on, the ground drops away and the pace picks up, because the flock knows where it sleeps. You reach the lower fold before dark and the counting is the last thing done.

Distance, ground and what it demands

Eleven and a half hours, sixteen to nineteen kilometres depending on the line he takes, and most of the descent is on loose stone and cropped turf. The distance is not the difficulty; the pace is. You walk slower than you would choose for hours together, then quickly for the last stretch, and that combination is what punishes knees. Boots with ankle support and a stick, both, not one or the other. No vehicle follows, because there is no road for one, and there is no point at which the day can be shortened except by walking back the way you came. Carry water for a full day: the spring is the only refill. If eleven hours on your feet sounds like a great deal, it is, and nobody will think less of you for choosing a shorter day.

Costs carried and costs left with you

From $204 per person, and this one is private only: the shepherd takes one party or none, because a flock will tolerate a handful of strangers and not a crowd. The figure covers the day with him and the dogs, bread and cheese at the spring, and the drive from the lower fold back to your car at the end, which matters, since you finish some nine kilometres from where you began. It does not cover reaching the meeting point, beds, or the days on either side, which most people are wise to leave empty. The shepherd bills you in his own name after the walk. This office takes no payment, holds no card details, and is paid a commission by him afterwards.

Awkward things people ask about this day

Can you fix us a date in June?

Not a date, a window. The flock moves when the grass on the high pasture is finished and the ground below is dry enough to walk, and that lands somewhere in a stretch of about ten days which the shepherd names roughly a fortnight ahead. We hold the window, tell you the moment he calls it, and ask you to keep both ends of it free.

Private only. What does that mean for two of us?

It means nobody is added to your party, which is the whole point: a flock tolerates a handful of strangers and not a crowd. The figure stays per person, and below four people the shepherd sets a minimum charge for the day, which this office puts in writing before you commit to anything. You will know that number before you decide, not after.

Can our dog come along?

No. There are working dogs on that ridge doing a job that took two years to teach, and a strange dog can undo a piece of it in a minute. This is not negotiable and we would not put the request to him. If you are travelling with a dog, this day is out, and we will tell you which days in the region will take one.