The drive to Monte Sant’Angelo took about four hours, and the scenery along the way was absolutely magnificent. We passed snow-capped mountains and stretches of autumn-colored landscapes—it felt as though we were traveling through different seasons in a single day.
What we didn’t realize was that Monte Sant’Angelo sits on a hilltop. By the time we arrived around 3 p.m., the weather had turned foggy and the sun was beginning to set. The road leading up was narrow, steep, and winding. At one point, we almost gave up, but there was no place to turn back. So we continued slowly, surrounded by thick fog.
We finally found a parking spot at around 3:45 p.m., with sunset expected at 4:30 p.m. I told my husband that we should quickly visit the cave, take a few photos, pray, and leave before dark—it felt too dangerous to drive down those roads at night in such conditions.
Just as we were about to leave, the organ began to play and Mass started. My husband suggested that we stay. During the Mass, my only prayer was to ask St. Michael for a miracle—to clear the fog so that we could drive safely to San Giovanni Rotondo, which was about 30 minutes away.
When the Mass ended, we stepped outside and found that it was already dark—and the fog had grown even thicker. I felt discouraged, thinking that my prayer had not been answered. Then, a gentle inner prompting led me to open Google Maps again. The route shown was different from the one we had taken earlier. Instead of a mountainous road, it led us toward what looked like a highway.
We drove very slowly, at less than 20 km/h, navigating through the heavy fog. After a few turns, we suddenly found ourselves on the highway. The fog began to lift, and in the distance, we saw bright lights at San Giovanni Rotondo, shaped like a Christmas tree.
It felt like hope.
We arrived safely at our hotel that night.
It was a truly miraculous experience—one that reminded us that hope never disappoints.
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