Our environmental awareness has it that every bit of industrialism is an obstacle to Earth's survival. Central Italy, instead, has a coastal stretch that challenges these groundings. The Tarquinian Saltpans, wedged between popular marine resorts roughly 100km north of Rome, are a rare example of ecosystem where a side effect of industrial activity turned into a blooming habitat – with a prescient story to tell.


Fluffy guardians

The bus driver kindly drops us off at the entrance to the Italian State Forestry Office in Lido di Tarquinia. As we pass by a runnel along the driveway, cuddly-size nutrias come so close I nearly reach out for a little rub despite their formidable ginger incisors. These South-American river rats had been introduced to Europe as a budget replacement for fur and steak in the war-torn 20th century. With the unchoosy demand gone, however, they've been treated with pesticides ever since. Here, happily, all life forms from the simplest to the furriest are protected as legitimate members of the post-industrial ecosystem.

Ancient peculiarity

The region owes its peculiarity to abnormally high – up to 350‰ – concentrations of salt and its enduring fame tracks back to the Villanovan culture (9th–8th BC), already familiar with salt as a luxurious food preservative. In a brash follow-up, the Etruscans developed a multicultural commercial centre accommodating eminent personages of the ancient world. After the Roman victory over Etruria, the salty grandeur had been dimming steadily until the medieval outbursts of malaria swept away the remaining diehards. And then came the controversial pontificate of Pope Pio VII.

With a good binocular...

To distract me from the fuzzy charmers, my partner points to a gravelled path lined with birds splashing across the Tyrrhenian wetland. Hurrying past the info boards, we still manage to put the species to the feathers in the distance: shelducks, mute swans, and – the most exciting – ancient flamingos with a pearl tint. When we meet Valerio, a park ranger, he takes a tiny object out of his pocket: "With a good binocular, we can read the birds' migration habits off these rings from 400m away."

With all the raw, humid beauty of the saltpans, it's hard to believe this nature reserve has flourished over an abandoned industrial zone active for nearly 200 years.

The industrial pope

The production plant, including the salt ponds, was constructed by Pope Pio VII in 1802 and closed down only in 1997. Interestingly enough, the wetland had been pronounced "the Natural Reserve of Animal Breeding" already in 1980, which means it simultaneously served as an extraction plant and a protected area for circa 20 years. So far, it might sound like an equilibrium between Nature and humankind, but there's a dark side too.

When the politically frenetic period of Risorgimento (Italian Unification) burst out with convicts sentenced to hard labour, the industrial Pope's eyes gleamed strategically at the free manpower. Every swampy morning saw lines of 300 men chained up in the salterns and shovelling out the "white gold". The zealous wringing continued until the end of the WWII when the withdrawing German army razed the port and its prison to the ground.

A most extreme habitat

As we stroll in the mild sun, with the flamingos in yoga poses and ducks bobbing amidst self-assured swans, the rangers chime us with the subaqueous microsphere. "It's one of the most extreme habitats due to the low levels of biologically usable water, high concentrations of ions, elevated levels of UV, and sometimes extreme pH", Alfredo, our second guide, tells us. One of the park's sturdy settlers is graceful Dunaliella salina, a type of flashy algae which in summer colours the ponds vibrant shades of red.

The fact that this minute flora holds the key to biological survival on a global scale fascinates to the bone. It is nothing else but the shivered-upon bacteria that will carry the day if Earth turns uninhabitable for other organisms. Studies of this extreme environment have shown that these simplest microforms are uniquely able to make themselves at home in any hyper-extreme conditions, in no time. "Our generation wasn't taught why we should respect Nature. Our efforts show results among the youngest, even if their enthusiasm plummets later. The seed stays there, though. They become those that pick up litter, not drop it", Alfredo adds on a positive note.

Unstoppable time, irreversible actions

The most evocative reminiscent of the industrial epoch, however, straddles the top of the main road in Lido. The factory, a gaunt block of flaky red brick, feels abandoned with all due eeriness. Only the vintage clock settled into a central pillar keeps running like a ticking mnemonic of unstoppable time and irreversible actions. Staring up at the mechanism, we are only a few meters away from the ecosystem that has been taking over what we degraded.

Unfortunately, the fragility of the ecosystem imposes limited openings to the public, and even these happen to be suspended periodically. Although Lido with the ruins of the ancient port, some of the bird watching stations, as well as the cuddly nutrias can be visited all year long, it might be an urgent call. High contents of accumulated thermal energy that are causing torrential rains and fierce winds abuse this feeble habitat possibly more than the bygone industrial activity.

Travel essentials

Getting there

There are frequent daily connections between London and Rome from £60 one way. (skyscanner.net). Lido di Tarquinia is an 80-minute ride from Rome via A12/E80 highway or by train to Tarquinia (every hour from Roma Termini station) and the local BC Bus Line to Lido. From EUR16 (£14) return (trainline.it).

Staying there

On Viale Mediterraneo 45, doubles in three-star La Torraccia start from EUR100 (£88)

More information

The Tarquinian Saltpans Office (00 39 0 76 68 64 605, This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it., parchilazio.it/tarquinia).


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