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Among Italian lake cognoscenti, the consensus is that Lago Maggiore is boring. Just look at its name: “Big Lake”. It may have a certain stately bearing, with its grand hotels and formal gardens and fringe of mountains, but the grand hotels are full of pharmaceutical delegates in for a conference, gardens like Villa Taranto have something ineffably suburban about them, and the fringe of mountains doesn’t bear close inspection, since much of it has been eaten into by quarries. And the fact that an A-road hugs the lake shore for most of its length - they continue, these know-alls - detracts mightily from one’s communion with the mirror of Venus.

What they don’t tell you is that there is one way of approaching the lake that unlocks its charm - something that can be difficult to grasp if you’re stuck in a traffic jam in suburban Verbania, with a carwash and a factory on each hand. This is to move exclusively by water using the lake’s extensive network of ferries, calling in at the resorts (Stresa, Verbania, Laveno) only for long enough to drink one’s fill of gardens, tour groups, cable-cars and cafe dansants before retiring, again by water, to a strategic retreat in a part of the lake that moves at an entirely different rhythm.

But perhaps a location shot is in order. Maggiore is the largest of the pair of western lakes - separated from small-but-perfectly-formed Orta by the Mottarone, a scenic peak from which seven lakes can reputedly be seen, on one of those legendary clear days (I counted four, but it was only a limpid, cloudless October morning). It extends from the tame, reed-fringed southern reaches, half an hour’s drive from Milan’s Malpensa airport, to the mountain-girt northern part - the top half of which is in Switzerland, centring on Locarno. Around a third of the way up the lake widens, with a small gulf to the west around which cluster the Belle Epoque resorts of Stresa and Baveno and the more down-to-earth Pallanza and Intra - the latter two fused by Mussolini in 1939 to form the municipality of Verbania. While cliffs plunging spectacularly into the water are not much in evidence - Como is the place for that - the mountains are a strong presence around Maggiore, especially snow-capped Monte Rosa, which - on another of those famous clear days - can be glimpsed from the eastern shore at the end of the long cleft of the Ossola valley.

And in the centre of the lake, in that enchanted gulf, float the three Borromeo Islands: the Isola Bella, almost entirely occupied by the Borromeo family palace and gardens; the Isola dei Pescatori, its houses huddled together like survivors clinging to a raft; and finally, distant and aloof, the Isola Madre, another Borromeo fiefdom.

At lunchtime and again in the evening, tourists are ferried across to the Isola dei Pescatori for a “characteristic” (i.e. slapdash) meal, and are serenaded by “characteristic” (idem) accordionists who vie with each other, as the wine takes hold, to carry their melodies further and further away from eastern Piedmont. All get to Naples; the most adventurous even reach Mexico. In the early morning, though, this really is the island of fishermen; they sit in front of their flat-bottomed boats mending nets, while their round-bottomed wives set out the shake-and-snow domes and the garish guides in four languages before kissing goodbye to their kids, who have to take the ferry to school over in Stresa.

The only way to see all this is to stay at the Hotel Verbano, one of two utterly charming retreats on the central and southern reaches of the lake. The Verbano is a solid, ochre-coloured building on the tip of the island that faces Isola Bella and the huge, unsteady-looking pile of the Borromeo Palace. Napoleon stayed in the latter. The Verbano will do the rest of us very nicely, thankyou, with its 12 peaceful, tastefully-decorated rooms that seem to absorb the light reflecting off the lake.

The piano nobile of the Borromeo Palace, on Isola Bella, is a triumph of the late Baroque, and its lakeside grottoes have a certain charm. But there is something rather stuffy about the succession of gilded and mirrored rooms, adorned with the self-aggrandising symbols of the Borromeos: three interlinked rings, a unicorn and - rather disturbingly - a man-trap. The gardens behind are as theatrical as they come, rising up in a series of terraces to a huge set piece, crowned by a prancing unicorn and bristling with obelisks, putti and goddesses. As Gabriel Fauré wrote in 1923: “on Isola Bella... nature has been tortured into artificiality”.

Isola Madre is far more human in scale. The palace’s rococo rooms are more intimate than those on Isola Bella; one can see that this was where the family preferred to live. But it is the garden that is the glory of the island; many will find it more impressive than the more famous Villa Taranto on the mainland - which has some glorious azaleas, bottle bushes and water lilies, but which is apt to come across as too botany-by-numbers in its approach; too military, perhaps (it was created by a retired Scots captain, Neil McEacharn). Isola Madre is more laid back, and more playful in its layout - so, for example, the coffee plant coffea arabica grows next to a burst of sugar cane. There are peacocks, parrots and dozens of “useful” plants, from the papyrus to the discaria serratifoglia, whose needles, with their antiseptic properties, are used by tattooists. In front of the palazzo stands an age-old Kashmir cypress with its cascading leaves, like a frozen firework trail.

The Borromeo family has a bit of a monopoly on sightseeing around central and southern Lake Maggiore. They own the palaces and gardens on the Isola Bella and the Isola Madre, as well as the castle of Angera on the south-eastern shore - three of the lake’s most popular tourist attractions. And even those who want to drive up to the peak of Mottarone from Stresa have to pay to use the Borromeo toll road. Appropriate really, as the family’s most famous son - Saint Charles Borromeo - made a career out of total control. From his power-bases in the Vatican and Milan, this Counter-Reformation éminence grise helped direct the conversion of Swiss Protestants, tightened up ecclesiastical discipline, and introduced the Jesuit boys’ schools that would dominate the Italian education system until the 1960s. The southern lakeside town of Arona is dominated by a huge bronze statue of “San Carlone” (big Saint Charlie), which also provides one of Maggiore’s most bizarre tourist experiences: climbing up the stairs inside the statue to peer out at the lake through the eyes of a saint. Commenting on the statue in his diary, Flaubert was his usual lapidary self: “Big, nasty, easily painted, big ears sticking out from the head. General effect of ugliness”.

Later Borromeos were less austere than the family saint; 18th and 19th century puppets from the family theatre are on display in the family’s two island palazzi - including - on Isola Madre - a whole “Inferno” scene with grinning devils, in which Dante meets the pantomime. In Angera castle, a truly satisfying crennelated hulk with some charming 15th century frescoes - there is a Doll Museum. When I visited, a Barbie exhibition was in progress. On one wall, a “Barbie family tree” was proudly displayed; just beyond, in the room where the serious part of the tour begins, was the Borromeo equivalent. San Carlo would not have been amused. But he would certainly have approved of the turn-of-the-century “play altar” displayed downstairs, complete with miniature candles, censer and priest. Anything to keep those Lutherans at bay.

Just north of Angera, along a road edged by smallholdings, vineyards and the occasional rustic villa, is the sleepy village of Ranco. There is little to see here, but there is certainly somewhere to stay: the Sole restaurant, whose culinary reputation is finally being matched by a series of rooms which offer one of the most luxurious and pampered retreats on the lake - and that includes any Grand Hotel you care to mention. Ranco is also a new addition to the lake’s recently-expanded network of ferry stops, making it a good alternative to the Verbano on Isola dei Pescatori as a base for visits to the whole central and southern section of Maggiore. One not-to-be missed sight for lovers of the Italian garden within easy reach of here is the Villa della Porta-Bozzolo in Casalzuigno, just a few kilometres inland from the ferry port of Laveno - a masterpiece of early eighteenth-century landscaping.

Closer to Ranco, and served by frequent ferries from Angera, Stresa and Isola Bella, stands one of the most entrancing churches to be found anywhere on the Italian lakes - the tiny Eremo di Santa Caterina, which seems to grow out of the mountainside. The conventual buildings are strung out along a narrow ridge above the water, supported but also overshadowed by solid rock. The rock made its presence felt one day in the early seventeenth century, when five huge boulders crashed down onto the roof of the church and remained miraculously trapped there, poking through like timid visitors but refusing to come in. Eventually, on a stormy night in May 1910, they dropped apologetically through, harming nothing and nobody; finally the monks were able to fix the roof up.

Sitting underneath the gothic arches of the conventino, looking out across the glassy surface of Maggiore, I watched the famous microclimate in action. It had dawned overcast and gloomy, with just a glimmer of light to the south. But as the morning went on, little openings had begun to appear, little tears in the fabric. Now, the sun was nibbling away at the clouds, helped by the great solar panel beneath. With infinite patience, a blue hole was cleared in the centre, while all around the slopes were still clothed in rags and scraps of cloud.

This - I thought, closing my eyes to feel the warmth - this is what it’s all about.

Information

Stresa Tourist office: Piazza Cadorna 22, tel. 0323 30416
Verbania Tourist Office: Corso Zanitello 8, Pallanza, tel. 0323 503249
Navigazione Lago Maggiore (boat times): 0322 233200, freephone (within Italy) 167 551801

Hotels and restaurants in central and southern Lake Maggiore

Stresa: the grand hotels that line the promenade on the Verbania road have thrown themselves so wholeheartedly into the conference market that individual travellers may feel a little hard done by. If you have to try one, make it the Grand Hotel des Iles Borromées (Corso Umberto I 67, 0323 938 938) a glittering palace that has been processing well-heeled guests since 1861; you can see why Hemingway chose it as the ultimate luxury refuge from the horrors of war in A Farewell To Arms. Some, though, will find the rooms over-decorated, the service over-confident, and the cappuccino truly appalling. Eat at La Piemontese (Via Mazzini 25, 0323 30 235) in the centre of town, a haven of dark wood decor and serious cooking, with good lake fish and game, and an excellent cheese board.

Baveno: Stresa’s quieter sister has a handful of comfortable four-stars, including the 368-bedroom Grand Hotel Dino (Corso Garibaldi 20, 0323 924 515, fax 922 200) which boasts indoor and outdoor pools, a squash court and a bowling alley. But here too the conference is king; people on holiday may find a small three-star like the Hotel Rigoli (Via Piave 48, 0323 924 756, fax 925 156) more appealing. Don’t be put off by the mud-coloured exterior; the lakeside position away from the main road, the bright rooms and a flower-decked terrace above the small beach make this a good, relaxing option. Under the same management, the Residence Ortensia (Via Piave 36, tel. same as Rigoli) set back from the lake in a pretty Art Nouveau house, has elegantly-furnished self-catering apartments and - a rarity around these parts - is open all year round.

Isola dei Pescatori: the Hotel Verbano (0323 32 534, fax 33 129, ring 0336 240 630 for private boat service if you miss the last ferry) is far and away the nicest place to stay on the central part of the lake. All the rooms (each named after a flower) are prettily decorated in pastel colours, and the painted cast-iron bedheads are delightful. The restaurant inevitably plays host to boatloads of visitors and delegates from the island, but it is a cut above the rest, with good home-made pasta; in summer, one can eat al fresco on the terrace above a small shingle beach, with unparalleled views.
Lago di Mergozzo: this tiny, forest-fringed lake used to be an arm of Maggiore until sediment created a land bridge between the two. Halfway along the northern shore, a wooden chalet juts out over the calm waters of the lake: this is the Piccolo Lago (Via Filippo Turati 87, Fondotoce, 0323 586 792, fax 586 791), best thought of as an excellent restaurant with rooms rather than a hotel, as the food’s the thing. Tuck into superb dishes like agnolotti ripieni di carciofi e gamberi (artichoke- and prawn-filled ravioli) while you watch the coots dip and scoot on the water below. If you stay, there is a pretty lakeside swimming-pool and pedalos for hire; the only drawback is the road that comes between this lake frontage and the twelve modern rooms, each of which has a panoramic balcony.
Verbania (Pallanza and Intra): Don’t stay here. It’s too much of a working town, with little of that old lake magic; only the eastern lakeside suburb of Suna still has a villagey feel. But by all means come to eat - at the Boccon di Vino (Via Troubetzkoy 86, 0323 504 039), for example, a small osteria whose assured cuisine belies the basic decor and the menu scribbled on the blackboard. If maltagliati con i porri (pasta with leeks) appears, order it; the deserts are equally fine, and as for wine - just ask the gruff, bearded owner to pick a decent bottle of Barbera. He will. For something a little more refined, Milano (Corso Zanitello 2, 0323 556 816), a neo-Gothic edifice in the centre of Pallanza with a terrace overlooking the lake, which offers a chance to sample lake fish such as pesce persico (perch) and salmerino (char), accompanied by organic home-grown vegetables.
Ranco: A couple of years back, Il Sole di Ranco (Piazza Venezia 5, 0331 976 507, fax 976 620) bought up the twin building which partially blocked its view of the lake; here six suites have been created which ooze country house charm. The nine other rooms above the restaurant are comfortable, bright and spacious, but only four have lake views. In the able hands of owner and chef Carlo Brovelli, the Sole has become a temple of Italian haute cuisine; not always as perfect as the presentation and prices would suggest, but pretty damn close.

This article originally appeared in Conde Nast Traveller (UK)

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