Tucked away in the woods and easily missed if you’re cycling by too fast, this hidden gem is a peaceful sanctuary surrounded by nature. In the summertime, it’s alive with the sights and sounds of wildlife, buzzing insects, and vibrant wildflowers. Despite its modest appearance, this place tells a powerful story—one that reaches back centuries and reminds us of the resilience and gratitude of past generations.
Above the entrance, carefully painted words recall its origins: “To the victims of the plague, the compassion of the people once erected this monument; Don Bortolo Pellegrini and Don Giacomo Passerini restored it in 1721. For their sons who returned safely from the Great War, the people of Alone, with grateful hearts, fulfilling a vow, had this artwork painted in 1921.”
Beneath these inscriptions are two skeletons, gazing forward, their hollow eyes locked on ours, as if silently beckoning us to step inside.
Inside the building, a series of frescoes greets the eye—some recently restored, others visibly weathered by time. The central piece offers striking evidence of the restoration efforts carried out over the centuries: small holes dot the surface of the wall. These were intentionally made to help new layers of plaster adhere properly. As frescoes age, carbonation causes their surfaces to become smooth and slippery, making it difficult for fresh plaster to bond without this technique.
Far from being imperfections, these punctures testify to moments in history when the artworks were concealed, forgotten, or deemed out of fashion—until rediscovered and brought back to light.
The chapel itself is not an imposing cathedral: it is probably no larger than 15 square meters. But its humble frescoes, painted by local hands, speak volumes. They reflect a deep-rooted connection between the community, its faith, and the enduring power of art. In a quiet clearing, this small structure stands as a moving tribute to both hardship and hope.