A lake for all seasons

Lake Como has been a popular summer-holiday destination since antiquity, but it’s increasingly worth holding off for autumn, when the crowds disappear and foraging begins, says Rosie Paterson

- Rosie Paterson

IN early autumn, Lake Como (Lago Lario or di Como in Italian, Lacus Larius in Latin) looks impenetrable, the water’s surface the colour of liquid onyx. The trees that cling to the lake’s steep limestone and granite banks hold onto the last vestiges of green; many already in a state of transformation, tinged rust red and purple. One morning, I peel back the curtains to find the sky disconcertingly low, clouds immobile, ensnared by jagged mountain tops until the sun builds up enough warmth to burn through them.

The natural lake formed about 10,000 years ago, water filling an inverted Y-shaped groove carved deep into the ground by a glacier. So deep, in fact, that it is Europe’s fifth deepest lake and the deepest outside of Norway (1,345ft at its lowest point).

Lake Como’s location, on an important trade route between the Po and Rhine Valleys, and its subtropical climate attracted the attention of the Romans, who transformed Como, on the southernmost tip, into an economic and manufacturing powerhouse, and the remainder into a popular summer holiday destination. Pliny the Younger (61–113) was born in Como and owned two villas, one in the hills named Tragedy and one next to the water’s edge called Comedy (a nod to theatre convention at the time, which saw actors in tragic roles don high-heeled, lace-up boots and actors in comic roles wear flatter shoes).

Aristocracy, Hollywood royalty and the well heeled (no tragic roles required) still flock to the lake’s shores between May and August, to water ski, sunbathe, socialise and tour the myriad manicured gardens and palatial villas, but more and more visitors can now be spotted in situ long after the official season has ended —a shimmering silver lining to the lockdowns.