Few pilgrimage sites in Europe sit as dramatically as this one, high on the spur of the Gargano peninsula, the spur on Italy's boot. Monte Sant'Angelo is a white town draped along a ridge about eight hundred metres above the sea, and the sanctuary of San Michele is built into a natural cave below the main street. Tradition holds that the Archangel Michael appeared to the local bishop here at the end of the fifth century, and the cave has drawn pilgrims ever since: Lombards who made it their national shrine, Norman knights, crusaders on their way to the Holy Land, and the faithful of every age. You enter down a long flight of steps, eighty-six of them by the usual count, and the air cools as you descend. Inside, the rock itself is part of the church, damp and bare, with a statue of the archangel and centuries of carved and painted additions around it. It was inscribed as part of the Longobards in Italy World Heritage listing in 2011.
Getting there is half the fun. From Mattinata on the coast the road climbs in a long series of bends and hairpins through olive groves and then bare limestone, with the Adriatic spreading blue and wide behind you. From the inland side you cross the Gargano National Park, a high limestone plateau where the Foresta Umbra, the Shady Forest, shelters beech and old pine and cools the air even in August. Roads here are narrow and the surface is variable, so expect patches of broken asphalt and the occasional goat. Early spring and autumn suit it best, and a clear evening on the terraces gives you enormous light over the plain of Puglia.
The town itself is steep and narrow, the old quarter of white stone, with a mix of tight alleys and a few pretty courtyards. It has about twelve thousand people, so fuel, food and a bed are all available. Expect the local specialities of the Gargano, such as orange and lemon from the coast, strong cheeses, and the oval wafers of local bakers. Ask about the Tomb of Rotari, a small Romanesque baptistery beside the sanctuary, which many visitors miss.
Park at the top of town and walk the last stretch. Lugging a helmet down eighty-six steps is no hardship, and the cave is worth the knees.