I Ditched the Fancy High-speed Trains and Tried an Older Route Through Italy’s Countryside — Here’s Why You Should, Too

In a lifetime of riding the rails, the trains I remember best all had this in common: they were old, noisy, and none too fast. I’m thinking of the Darjeeling Himalayan Railway, switchbacking its way up precipitous terraces that bristled with tea plantations; the cog railway to Zermatt in the Swiss Alps; and the vintage streetcars I spent a blissful day riding at the Seashore Trolley Museum in Kennebunkport, Maine.

Don’t get me wrong — I love the convenience of Japan’s Shinkansens and Europe’s high-speed rail system, and am of the opinion that North America should have started building its own network of fast intercity trains a generation ago. But bullet trains have been blamed by transportation analysts for killing off service to smaller towns, especially in France and Spain.

When I heard Italy was keeping its railway heritage alive by running historic trains on rami secchi, or “dry branches,” as these neglected routes are known, I immediately began planning a trip. The Fondazione FS Italiane, a nonprofit that manages Italy’s historic railways, offers a dozen itineraries across the country, from April to November. The foundation calls its heritage train program Binari Senza Tempo, or “Timeless Tracks,” and also runs the National Railway Museum of Pietrasara, in Naples, where it warehouses and restores 400 historic vehicles — the oldest of which go back to the age of steam. 

While the U.S. and Canada have made a virtue of converting old railway lines into hiking and biking trails, Italy has flipped the narrative by keeping the routes alive. The government has set aside 19 lines that run through what a national law calls “territories of great natural or archaeological value.” There are day trips out of Palermo, Milan, and Florence that cost about $21. Another trip, in Sicily, stops at Pachino, the southernmost railway station in Europe.

My first choice was Il Treno di Dante, which the foundation’s website describes as a three-day rail “cruise” from Florence, where the 14th-century poet Dante Alighieri was born, to Ravenna, where he is buried. But 10 days before I was due to leave, spring floods in the Emilia-Romagna region washed away large sections of the track. So instead, I booked a daylong excursion from Turin to the vineyard-rich village of Canelli, which promised a leisurely ride through the wine country of Piedmont, with tastings along the way.

At exactly 9 a.m. on a Saturday, our train let out a series of long, piping whistles as it left the platform at Porta Nuova, Turin’s central railway station. We were being pulled by a half-century-old diesel-electric locomotive, whose red-and-green livery paid tribute to the Italian flag. But the four passenger cars were the real beauties. Known as centoporte, or “hundred doors,” these carriages were in operation from the late 1920s to the 80s, and were familiar to me from countless classic Italian films.

After finding my assigned seat, I examined the car’s interior: well-worn benches made of varnished wood, wrought-iron stanchions rising to slatted hat racks, patterned curtains drawn over lowered windows, and bare incandescent bulbs glowing from the ceiling.

“Each car has ten doors, so a ten-car train would have had a hundred doors,” said the conductor, Fabio Genua, who roamed the aisle wearing a tight-fitting gray jacket with the FS logo on the breast pocket. “Altogether, two thousand centoporte were built. And the foundation has managed to save at least thirty of them from the scrapyard.”

The industrial suburbs of Turin soon gave way to green wheat fields studded with orange poppies. The train was running on the tracks of what was once the Langhe-Roero and Monferrato railway, until the route ended in 2018. Gradually, orchards of hazelnut trees, which provide the signature ingredient for Italy’s beloved Ferrero Rocher chocolates and Nutella spread, turned to terraced hills lined with Muscat grapes.

At 9:50 a.m. the train arrived at Asti, a quaint town that is perhaps best known for its sparkling wine. While a backup locomotive was attached to the rear of the train, a trio of black-suited sommeliers, shiny tastevins dangling on chains from their necks, worked their way down the aisle, the region’s signature bottles in their hands. Asti Spumante may have a reputation for being champagne’s sweeter and less expensive cousin, but that’s probably because the good stuff rarely leaves Italy. Consider the Asti from winemaker Tosti that filled our glasses: surprisingly dry, it made a sophisticated accompaniment to the daintily wrapped amaretti, flavored with peach and apricot, that the sommeliers also offered.

Shortly before noon, after snaking through several long tunnels, we arrived at our last stop, Canelli. A few years ago, the town’s little amber-hued station was derelict and covered with graffiti, explained Gianluigi Barone, who met us on the platform. Barone, who runs the events company that now welcomes visitors, said the train has boosted the local economy by bringing up to 300 travelers at a time to the little hill town.

We toured Canelli’s huge vaulted wine cellars, known as “underground cathedrals,” where bottles of Spumante are stored for up to a decade. Then I sat with my fellow passengers for a leisurely alfresco lunch of tiny ravioli in a butter and sage sauce, braised veal cheeks, and other Piedmontese specialties. The rest of the afternoon was spent strolling up sinuous village streets to the Gancia Castle, which offered panoramic views of Romanesque church steeples and red-tile-roofed houses built for vineyard workers.

A bullet train can feel as hermetically sealed as a Boeing 787, but on a slow locomotive, the windows can be lowered. On the return trip to Turin, I could hear dogs barking and inhale the woodsmoke-scented evening breeze. “A train isn’t a vehicle,” Paul Theroux wrote in Riding the Iron Rooster, his 1988 book about exploring China by railway. “A train is part of the country. It’s a place.” 

By taking this poky old train — which tops out at 55 miles per hour — I felt like I’d been presented with an intimate portrait of the Piedmont countryside. Best of all, I didn’t feel removed from the landscape, the way I so often do when I’m driving on the highway. As the old train made its way back across rural Piedmont, children would emerge from trackside farmhouses waving their hands and hailing the train’s return. And we all waved back. 

The historic TrEno LMR train from Turin to Canelli runs from April to November. Tickets are $185 per person round-trip. 

A version of this story first appeared in the December 2023/January 2024 issue of Travel + Leisure under the headline "On the Right Track."