The pool was empty – perhaps because at about 22C, the water was too cold for Italians. It was also about to close. Whatever the reason, we had the glorious Biolago di Pinzolo, a spring-fed, plant-filtered swimming lake, to ourselves. As my son and I swam, we could just make out the tiny red-roofed hermitage of San Martino on the forested slope above, where, according to legend, a hermit survived on bread provided by a tame bear.
We’d come to the mountains of northern Italy for an alternative family break, away from the honeypot cities and beach resorts further south.
