A Walk Around the Lower City of Orvieto
Orvieto is a city perched high above the Umbrian countryside, carved from volcanic rock and crowned by the magnificent Duomo. While most visitors ascend to the old town atop the plateau, fewer take the time to explore the lower part of the city—a place where time moves slowly, nature and history intertwine, and the Etruscan past lingers in the air. To walk around Orvieto from below is to experience a quieter, more introspective version of the city: one that breathes through olive trees, crumbling stone walls, and silent caves etched into the tufa cliffs.

The walk typically begins at Piazza Cahen, the eastern gateway to the city and one of the main access points via the funicular station from Orvieto Scalo, the modern lower town. Stepping out of the station, most people rush to the top. But instead, take the path that winds along the outer ring road, curving gently beneath the cliffs—this is where Orvieto reveals a different face.

The road hugs the base of the tufa rock, where massive golden-brown walls rise steeply above you. These cliffs once formed the natural defense of the Etruscan city, and their texture—cracked and weathered—speaks of millennia. The first thing you notice is the quiet. Birds call from the cliffside trees, and a breeze stirs the wild grasses. Despite being just below a major tourist destination, the lower ring is often deserted.

As you begin to walk westward, you pass the Porta Maggiore, one of the ancient gates to the city, now a ghost of its former self. Nearby, traces of Etruscan caves and cisterns puncture the cliff face. Some have been sealed; others yawn open like mouths carved in stone. Centuries ago, these were used as tombs, cellars, and shelters. During World War II, they offered refuge once more, hiding townspeople during Allied bombings.

To your left, the countryside unfolds—vineyards, olive groves, and cypress-lined hills typical of central Italy. Below, the Paglia River glints in the sunlight, and in spring, wildflowers border the path. Depending on the time of day, the cliffs cast long shadows over the valley, or they glow a warm amber in the late afternoon light.

Eventually, you come to the Archaeological Park of the Crucifisso del Tufo, an Etruscan necropolis dating from the 6th to 5th centuries BCE. Here, rows of square-cut tombs form a strange, silent city of the dead. The tombs are labeled with inscriptions in the Etruscan language, bearing names of families long vanished. Walking among them, you feel the stillness of history—not the grand, triumphant kind, but something intimate and human. The park is never crowded, and its peaceful air encourages reflection.

Continuing along the ring road, you soon reach the Anello della Rupe, or “the ring of the cliff,” a walking path that encircles Orvieto’s base. The full trail is about five kilometers, and this stretch runs through light woodlands, crossing stone bridges and natural springs. Here, you are fully embraced by nature. Moss covers the stones, and ivy climbs the cliff walls. You may pass a local walking their dog or a quiet hiker, but for the most part, it is a solitary path.

Around the southern curve, you glimpse some of the oldest rural churches and chapels—San Giovanni and San Giovenale, whose bell towers rise up above the cliff. Their simple stone façades contrast with the grandeur of the Duomo far above, reminding you that faith here comes in many forms.

Occasionally, a side path leads up to one of the city’s ancient gates, like Porta Vivaria or Porta Romana, allowing you to ascend back into the heart of the city. But the real treasure of this lower route is the sense of continuity between earth and stone, past and present. From down here, you appreciate the feat of Orvieto’s foundation—the human desire to build upward, to reach for the heavens while grounded in the soil.

At one point, you pass a viewpoint looking up at the Piazza del Duomo, where the façade of the cathedral peeks over the cliffs, its golden mosaics glinting faintly. It seems surreal, almost floating above the trees and stones. Seeing the Duomo from below offers a powerful contrast to the view from the top: here, it feels like a beacon, not just of architecture, but of aspiration.

Finally, as the loop returns you to the eastern side, the path descends slightly and you find yourself near the Pozzo di San Patrizio, or St. Patrick’s Well. Built in the 16th century by Antonio da Sangallo the Younger, it’s a masterpiece of Renaissance engineering designed to provide water during sieges. Even from the outside, the cylindrical structure hints at the genius within—a double-helix staircase, 62 meters deep, illuminated by shafts of sunlight. Descending into the well is like entering the Earth itself—a fitting end (or beginning) to a journey that has traced the boundary between the surface and the depths, civilization and nature, past and present.

Conclusion
A walk around the lower part of Orvieto is not just a scenic excursion—it is a journey through layers of time and space. It offers a quieter, more meditative experience than the bustling piazzas above, allowing you to witness the city’s raw foundations—both literally and metaphorically. Here, the whispers of the Etruscans echo in the stone, the Renaissance dreams in the well, and the eternal rhythm of Umbrian life continues beneath the cliffs. Whether you’re a historian, a poet, or simply a traveler in search of silence, the walk around Orvieto below is an unforgettable passage into Italy’s soul.