Among the lesser known aspects of the Tuscia are the hydraulic works created in great numbers by the Etruscans and by the other peoples who also inhabited this territory. These works consist mainly in underground tunnels, channels, and passageways which are concealed in the heart of the countryside and are practically invisible. These underground channels are called cunicoli . Many of them are still functioning today and have been functioning uninterruptedly for thousands of years. A project is underway to make a complete map of these channels and tunnels. Geologists, speleologists, surveyors, and others explore the countryside in search of them, chatting with shepherds and farmers who might be able to provide useful information about where they might be found. Once a tunnel has been found, it is explored, mapped, and added to the databank of artificial cavities to which many additions are made each year.

So now you have a good idea of where I’m going. Tullio’s directions were quite on-target (as usual). I park my car at the side of a dirt track full of potholes, bordering a gulley several meters deep where at the bottom a small stream runs, cutting down across the surrounding fields. The hills, planted with forage and wheat, are fenced off with barbed wire which I now climb over. It has rained heavily in the last few days and the ground is wet and slick with mud. I follow the gulley which dips down slightly then disappears.

But wait a minute! Where’d it go? There where the gulley should continue, a meadow opens out. I look back from where I have come. I can clearly see the gulley carved by a streambed, lined by thorny bushes and scrub oaks. Then, at a certain point, it vanishes and a meadow appears.

I go back to the last visible trace of the gulley and gaze down at the stream running through it. The walls of the gulley are slippery, so I tie a rope to an oak and slide down to the bottom where I find the opening of a tunnel. The gulley has disappeared because thousands of years ago someone dug a tunnel in these hills so that the stream would flow into it and continue underground, and the gulley would disappear from the countryside.

It’s an impressive piece of work. The tunnel unfolds ten meters below ground level. The meadow is right over my head. It is so ancient that the stream has had time to carve it out in depth and breadth so that it now looks just like a natural cave. But the upper part of the tunnel near the ceiling still bears the original rectangular shape and you can see the marks left by the picks used by the men who carved it out stroke by stroke.

There are openings here and there along the ceiling where the daylight filters in. These openings, placed approximately every 35 meters, were used to remove the debris from the excavation and help orient the tunnel in a specific direction. A few openings are still intact, though very little light filters in. But that’s not a problem. I am wearing a speleologist’s helmet with incorporated torch. There’s just enough light to find my way and I can hear the roar of the rushing water echoing in the tunnel.

I’m wearing rubber boots that reach up to my knees, but to keep from getting wet I have to plant my feet along the tunnel walls and not walk through the streambed. In some spots the water is quite deep.

I eventually come to a waterfall where the stream gushes down for several meters, but I don’t think it’s safe to try to climb down there. If I slipped and hurt myself I doubt they would find me in time. I decide to retrace my steps and try to find another entrance to the tunnel which Tullio tells me should be a little further down in the valley. There indeed I find other sections of the tunnel, even larger and more imposing than the one I have just explored.

I pause to contemplate this dream-like spot, with light filtering down through the trees along the low bluffs of tufo. Here I stand before an earthwork as beautiful as it is incomprehensible. Why would anyone carve a tunnel like this? The arable ground surface gained by eliminating the gulley is quantitatively insignificant. The water isn’t drinkable. Moreover, nothing was gained by having it flow into the tunnel. It ends up the same spot it would have ended up even if the tunnel hadn’t been there. I can’t explain it. Perhaps it was part of a ritual, connected to some belief. Perhaps it was a sign of wealth. By having such a tunnel dug on his land, the owner could show how powerful he was, that he was able to shape nature to his whim, and even make a stream vanish. Who knows? All I know is that the beauty of this place gives me a deep sense of peace.
Click here to see photos Photo credits: Michele Angileri
translated by Linda Lappin .