Craco: Walking Through the Houses Sliding Down the Lucanian Hillside

Craco is the most famous ghost town in Basilicata, and perhaps in all of southern Italy. Perched on a clay hill in the Cavone valley, it was progressively abandoned between 1963 and 1975 as landslides made the houses unstable and dangerous. The inhabitants moved down to the plain below, and the old borgo was left empty — but not invisible.

Craco has served as a film location for productions including Mel Gibson's The Passion of the Christ, the Bond film Quantum of Solace, and numerous Italian productions. Its silhouette — a Norman tower rising from a tangle of collapsing houses — has become an icon of Basilicata and of the very concept of a ghost town.

Since 2010 it has been possible to visit part of the borgo on organised guided tours. You put on a hard hat, sign a waiver and enter through a secured route that crosses the heart of the village. The guide recounts its history: the Norman castle, the Franciscan convent, the noble families, the 1963 landslide that triggered the evacuation.

Walking through the streets of Craco is an intense experience. The houses lie open like wounds: you see tilted floors, crumbling walls, rooms exposed to the sky. Vegetation has invaded every space: figs grow through the windows, capers hang from the cornices, tall grass covers the doorsteps. The Norman tower dominates everything, intact and imperturbable.

The view from the top of the borgo is spectacular: the Lucanian calanchi stretch to the horizon, rippling and grey like a stormy sea. It is a lunar landscape, desolate and beautiful, that explains why this land was for so long among the poorest in Europe — and why those who were born here cannot forget it.

It can be visited in a couple of hours. Guided tours must be booked in advance. The best time is spring and autumn. It pairs well with Matera (an hour away by car) and the Lucanian borghi of the Basento valley.

Craco is not a light experience. It is a place that speaks of loss, of flight, of abandonment — but also of a beauty that resists ruin. The houses collapse, but the tower stands. The people have gone, but the landscape has not.