Apice Vecchia is often called “the Pompeii of the 20th century”. Walking through this abandoned medieval hilltown, past pastel-colored houses and dusty shops, one might half-expect a mythic curse. Yet its story is grounded in real history: after two massive earthquakes in 1962 and 1980, Apice Vecchia’s roughly 6,000 residents hastily fled and never returned. Today its streets are silent and empty. Iron balconies line winding cobblestone alleys, and every building—down to the furniture and kitchenware still on shelves—remains exactly as it was at the moment of evacuation. Time really did stop here: as one guide notes, Apice Vecchia was “suspended in time” by those quakes. Visitors stepping under the intact ceiling of the old theater see the ornate chairs, dusty curtains and faded posters of daily life abandoned in 1980. The effect is eerie yet poignant: an open-air museum of ordinary life that ended abruptly. Each house—from the humblest cottage to the grand villa—holds relics of its past: faded calendars, work tools, books on shelves, and laundry still hanging on lines. Even in decay, the village radiates a strange magic of memory and silence.
Archaeologists trace Apice’s founding back to antiquity. According to local tradition and medieval chronicles, the site was colonized by Roman legionaries after campaigns in the Samnite lands of Campania. In fact, local lore credits Marcus Gavius Apicius (a Roman senator and gourmet) with distributing conquered Sannio lands to his veterans, establishing the first settlement here. By the Middle Ages, Apice sat atop its rocky outcrop as a strategic stronghold and rural community. The Norman conquest of southern Italy in the 12th century brought the construction of a castle at Apice. King William II of Sicily or his barons fortified the hilltop with the Castello dell’Ettore – a Norman stone citadel meant to protect against Saracen raids. Ruins of this castle (also called “Castello di San Cristoforo”) still crown the town, its twin towers and thick walls a testament to Apice’s medieval importance.
Over the centuries Apice Vecchia prospered modestly as a hill-farming village. Its residents lived by cultivating olives, grapes and grains on the surrounding terraces. By the 18th century the town had grown to perhaps 8,000 souls, with narrow lanes, stone houses, and a central Chiesa Madre church containing Baroque frescoes. Even into the early 20th century, Apice was a thriving rural community typical of Campania’s inland hills. There were schools, shops, a barber, and a busy main street (Via Roma) lined with cafes and boutiques. Through rain and shine the village bustled with peasant and merchant life — all of which would be interrupted by the disasters to come.
Apice’s decline began on the evening of August 21, 1962 at 7:30 PM, when a pair of earthquakes (estimated Mercalli intensity VI–VII) ripped through the Irpinia region. The temblors were centered near Casalduni (Benevento) but shaken villages included Apice. Around 17 people died in the broader quake, and over 100 were injured. In Apice Vecchia, many stone houses cracked and collapsed, and rubble filled the streets. Experts from the Italian government deemed the old town unsafe. On the night of the quake, civil engineers ordered a complete evacuation. By midnight all 6,000 residents had fled their homes, carrying only what they could, as aftershocks continued. The scene was chaotic: furniture and pots were abandoned, lanterns remained lit, and shop signs still hung on walls. In the village square, the local clock stopped at 7:30 PM, frozen on August 21 – a haunting reminder.
The survivors took shelter in nearby towns and temporary camps. Initially, the government promised to rebuild Apice in situ, but geology intervened. The underlying ground had shifted and liquefied. Within weeks, officials approved plans to relocate the town to safer ground on a nearby plateau. Apice Nuova (New Apice) was laid out in the fields below the hill, replicating Via Roma and the main piazza in a new modern village. Almost overnight, nearly everyone left Apice Vecchia. A few elderly holdouts resisted; one local barber famously kept his shop open and refused to leave. But for the rest, life continued amid plywood shelters in the new town. The old village was cordoned off by ordinance, its fate uncertain. Still, in 1962 the damage was not total: many stone buildings in Apice Vecchia remained standing. Locals often call these years a “first bubble of time” – a snapshot created by the initial earthquake.
All hope of returning to the old hilltown ended with the infamous Irpinia earthquake on November 23, 1980. In the early evening, a magnitude 6.9 tremor struck near Castelnuovo di Conza, devastating southern Italy. Between 2,700 and 3,000 people perished regionwide. In Apice Vecchia, the ground rolled mercilessly. Although the town had been largely evacuated 18 years earlier, a handful of “tenacious” residents and caretakers remained behind. They witnessed the old houses crumble like paper, as roofs collapsed and walls pancaked. At 7:34 PM the village was effectively destroyed. Aftershocks continued for days. Engineers deemed the entire area unstable: Apice Vecchia was formally abandoned. By the end of November 1980 no one was living in the old town.
As one local description poetically notes, “the hands of the clock have stopped” at November 23, 1980. Shop awnings hang as if waiting for customers that will never come, and the streetlights and church bells now mute. The few remaining walls still bear the graffiti of 1960s shop names and bar signs. A forlorn calendar, torn at the 1980 page, hangs on a kitchen wall. One traveler later wrote of walking in Apice Vecchia, “The doors are open, and inside the halls there is a long silence. One feels the atmosphere of desecrated temples… The rooms are full of objects, the books are on the shelves, yellow and worn, begging to be taken and read”. This vivid “giant stage set” remains essentially untouched to this day. After 1980 it was decided never to rebuild Apice Vecchia; instead, the community fully relocated to Apice Nuova. The castle and churches were stabilized for safety, but otherwise the town was left to the elements.
Historical Timeline:
Stepping into Apice Vecchia today feels like slipping into a forgotten movie set. The air is quiet except for birdsong and the breeze rattling shutters. Via Roma, the town’s old main street, offers the first glimpse: narrow, paved lanes flanked by shuttered doorways, faded shop awnings, and mossy stone steps. Here and there a sign proclaims a business long past – an empty café, a closed bar. Sunlight filters through cracks in crumbling walls. There is no one here except ghosts of the past. Much of the charm (and creepiness) lies in small details.
Begin at the village entrance near the Castello dell’Ettore. From the castle’s outer court one looks down on the panorama of rooftops and ruined facades. Climb through an arch into Piazza San Donato. In the center stands a melted bronze lamp-post and the narrow bell tower of the old town church, its bells silent. On the ground is a cluster of bicycles left where their riders fled in 1962. Beyond the piazza, Via Roma extends eastward as a gentle decline. On either side are rows of houses and shops whose wooden doors are wide open as if inviting return. In one storefront a bar counter still holds dusty bottles, decanters and an 80’s calendar nailed to the wall. In another, a beauty salon’s mirror reflects an empty street. The café on the corner has its newspaper racks still in place, with tattered pages.
Linger on Via Roma. Notice a painted sign: “Salumeria” (deli) and an old wooden scale near the doorway. Walk upstairs into a stone house: the walls are patched and peeling, the floor partly collapsed. In the bedroom lie blankets of 1980’s polyester, and on a desk an uncapped ink pen awaits its owner. Further along, a rickety staircase leads into a former theater (featured in the photo above): rows of plastic chairs facing a tiny stage. Ghostly, spoken-word graffiti from recent visitors covers one wall.
Climb past the church ruins to the old Castello dell’Ettore. While the castle interior is under renovation, its courtyard is open and offers a panoramic overlook. From here you can see how nature is reclaiming the town: grass and vines grow through cracks in pavements, trees sprout inside empty rooms. The view stretches across the valley to the lush Apennines beyond, contrasting sharply with the silent stone village below.
In sum, Apice’s remains include:
What makes Apice different from other ghost towns? Unlike sites that have been partially restored or cleared of rubble, Apice Vecchia is remarkably intact in its ruinous state. Visitors often comment that it’s as if the villagers left for lunch and never came back. There is no modern reconstruction here – no scaffolding or tourist commercialization. Even so, it’s safer than some urbex sites: the village is now a sort of open-air museum, and the worst debris has been shored up under the mayor’s orders. (Still, caution is advised: wear sturdy shoes, watch for loose bricks, and do not attempt to enter any building higher than one story.)
Apice Vecchia lies about 90–95 km northeast of Naples and roughly 15 km east of the city of Benevento, in inland Campania. It is best reached by car. From Naples, take the A16 tollroad east toward Bari and exit at Benevento-Castel del Lago (at Casalbore). Then follow provincial roads (SP258 and SP359) for about 15 minutes to Apice. In good traffic the drive from Naples takes about 1½ hours. From Rome the quickest route is A1 north to Cassino, then SR162/SS372 east via Isernia – the total distance is around 260 km, or 3–3½ hours driving. The nearest train station is in Benevento (to the north). However, no regular train or bus goes directly into the ghost town; the easiest way is still to drive or hire a private transfer from Benevento.
🚗 By Car: GPS coordinates for Apice Vecchia are 41.138°N, 14.766°E. Ample free parking is available on the new town side of Apice (as Apice Vecchia itself has no parking lot). Park near the municipal offices in Apice Nuova and walk or take the footpath up into the old village. (During special events, organizers often provide a shuttle minibus from nearby lots.) Use caution on the last 3 km: the road narrows and can be rough.
🚌 By Bus: A local bus (Linea 32) runs infrequently from Benevento’s central station to the village of Apice Nuova. From there you would still walk uphill 2 km to the ghost town. Bus schedules change often.
✈️ By Air: The nearest airport is Naples International (NAP), about 100 km away (approximately 1h 10m by car). Rome’s airports (FCO/Fiumicino or CIA/Ciampino) are 250+ km away, so a rental car is recommended if flying from Rome.
Parking is available in Apice Nuova (look for “Parcheggio”) or at privately-run lots near the bottom of the hill. There is no formal entrance gate or fee to walk around Apice Vecchia itself. The village is generally open from dawn to dusk, year-round, but always check for any temporary restrictions. (As a planning note, note that local authorities often close the site at night and during severe weather.) A safe approach is via the path from Piazza Palmieri in Apice Nuova. Follow the signs to “Castello” or “Borgo Vecchio”; a tarmacked road leads up to the old town arch.
Apice Vecchia is generally accessible for daytime visits, but it is partially unsafe. Some buildings are unstable. Do not climb on walls or inside multi-story ruins. Wear sturdy hiking shoes and bring water – there are no services inside the ghost town. There is no admission control (it was declared public property), but an official guided tour service operates during special events (see below). In recent years, Apice Vecchia has been closed by municipal decree to unsupervised visitors due to liability concerns. In practice, walkers still explore at their own risk, often making a round-trip loop through the town in 1–2 hours. On an average visit you will mostly see empty rooms and open doorways, but do peek respectfully into interiors. Flash photography is fine outdoors; onsite signs remind visitors to be respectful of the site’s fragile heritage.
Urban Exploration Warning: Apice Vecchia is not off-limits by law, but it is officially protected as historic heritage. Climbing on walls or graffitiing the ruins is illegal. Drones are not permitted without special permission (the site falls under archaeological monitoring). Always behave as though in a museum: do not remove any artifacts. In 2024 the municipality sought to promote responsible tourism rather than forbid entry entirely. As a rule, visitors treat Apice Vecchia as a solemn place: many come not for fun, but for reflection. Please remember that these ruins were once homes and workplaces.
Apice Vecchia can be visited year-round, but spring and autumn are ideal. From April to June and September to October, the weather is mild (average 15–25°C) and wildflowers bloom in the fields below. Summers (July–August) are very hot and busy in Campania, so aim for mornings or late afternoons to avoid heat and crowds. Winters bring the challenge of rain and even ice (roads can be slippery if wet). The site is open during daylight hours; at dusk the town truly feels “frozen” and also poses visibility hazards. Note (as of late 2025): Guided tours of Apice Vecchia are held seasonally (especially around Christmas markets and festivals) by the Apice InfoPoint. On these occasions, shuttles run from Benevento or Apice Nuova, and a €2 entrance fee is charged. If touring independently, check local tourism offices for any event closures.
Plan 1–2 hours to walk the key areas of Apice Vecchia. A typical route: enter near the castle, circle through the piazza and Via Roma, then return via the back streets. Bring your camera: even the simple act of walking slowly past each house reveals history. You can spend much longer if you pore over details or photograph every room. Be mindful that cell service is spotty up there – download maps in advance. If arriving by tour, note that visits are timed and guided by staff to ensure safety.
Practical Information: Because Apice Vecchia has no facilities, the nearest bathrooms and refreshments are in Apice Nuova. The new town has a handful of cafés and shops at Via Appia, 2 km below. The best parking is at Piazza Palmieri (the town hall area), from which a shuttle or walking path leads up.
Planning Note: No permits or tickets are needed for solo visits (outside of guided events). However, part of Apice Vecchia is on private land (the castle area), so access during non-tour events could occasionally be restricted. Always follow posted signs and pathways.
Apice Vecchia is a paradise for photography and urbex enthusiasts. Its atmospheric light, textural ruins, and poignant details allow many creative compositions. Here are some practical tips:
Apice Vecchia is one of several abandoned Italian towns, each with its own history. A quick comparison helps set expectations and find what makes Apice unique:
Ghost Town | Location | Abandonment Cause | Access & Tourism | Notable Differences |
Apice Vecchia (Campania) | Benevento province | Earthquakes (1962, 1980) | Open-air ghost town (free to roam). Limited signage, no entry fee. Guided tours during events. | Authentic “time capsule”; no rebuild. Relics left in-place. Less crowded, more atmospheric. |
Craco (Basilicata) | Matera province | Landslide & instability (1963, ’71) | Partially reopened: guided tours only (entry fee). Several restored viewpoints. | Famous film location (Bond, “Christ Stopped at Eboli”). Built-up tourism. Much higher cliff access. |
Balestrino (Liguria) | Savona province | Earthquake/landslide (1953) | Abandoned town sealed off; limited access (special permission tours). | Completely unvisited by public for years. Like a ruined fortress by the sea. |
Civita di Bagnoregio (Lazio) | Viterbo province | Erosion & landslides (gradual) | Tourist village (paid entry). Pedestrian causeway. Small population remains. | More “dollhouse” looks; still partially inhabited and commercialized. Often very crowded. |
Overall, Apice Vecchia’s advantage is its untouched authenticity and quiet setting. Unlike Craco (tourist-marketed) or Civita (still alive), Apice has no admission fee or crowds. It is not wheelchair or child-friendly (steep, uneven paths). But for the adventurous, it feels like travelling in 1980s Italy: no souvenir shops, just real history. The table above can serve as a quick guide: if your interest is pure urban exploration and solitude, Apice stands out. If you prefer a more tourist-oriented experience or light hiking (Civita), know that Apice offers raw authenticity at the cost of modern amenities.
Apice Vecchia sits squarely in the realm of dark tourism – travel to sites of tragedy, abandonment, or death. Visitors often wonder: is it ethical or respectful to wander here, amid the private remains of a lost community? This is a subject of ongoing discussion. On one hand, Apice offers a powerful reminder of impermanence. Tourists frequently describe feeling a mix of reverence and melancholy. As one travel writer put it, “wandering these empty rooms felt like giving a silent eulogy to the vanished.” On the other hand, the site’s frozen state is literally telling the story of its people. Many agree that preserving Apice as it is can honor the memory of the displaced villagers by educating the public about natural disasters and resilience.
The local sentiment is nuanced. Some former residents and their descendants have expressed pride that their old town has become a poignant landmark. Others worry about exploitation or disrespect. In fact, after 1980 the empty village became the stage for events – from Christmas markets to film shoots. When unauthorized film crews staged scenes here, critics complained that “scenographies” were sometimes planted to photograph, blurring history with fiction. This concern is real: the Archeomedia report on Apice warns that not everything left inside is genuinely abandoned; props have been added in some cases. Good practice, therefore, is to view Apice through a lens of stewardship – documenting and reflecting, rather than exploiting.
Preservation efforts are ongoing in small ways. In 2025 the municipality and regional organizations have touted plans to eventually stabilize more buildings and possibly create a museum route. The castle houses an exhibition of local artifacts to contextualize the village. The recent introduction of guided tours (see Practical Guide) is an attempt to manage tourist impact sustainably. As one cultural advocate writes, “Salviamo Apice” – “Let’s save Apice” – stressing that without careful conservation, this time capsule could crumble entirely.
In broader terms, Apice Vecchia embodies the story of modern Italian migration. After WWII, millions of southern Italians left for the industrial north or abroad in search of work. The earthquakes simply accelerated an existing drift. Apice’s fate is thus connected to Italy’s post-war history: it is both a symbol of a community’s end and a monument to those who rebuilt lives elsewhere. In visiting, one participates in that memory.
Although Apice Vecchia is remote, the area has several attractions to fill a day or more:
Apice Vecchia is more than a “ghost town” curiosity – it is a mirror of human resilience and historical change. Here, the remains of everyday life invite reflection on impermanence: a child’s drawing on a wall, a shopping list on a kitchen fridge, a wedding photo on the mantel, all as ghostly evidence of normal families frozen in flight. Apice’s story speaks to anyone who has felt uprooted by disaster or the passing of time. It teaches that even in abandonment, there is beauty and lesson.
For travelers, Apice Vecchia offers a rare experience of unmediated history. It is a place to slow down, observe, and remember. As you step among the ruins, consider the courage of those who left behind everything – and the simple hope that visitors will respect this silent village’s memory. By visiting with care, one honors the legacy of Apice’s people.
Today, Apice waits quietly for guests who arrive not to party, but to contemplate. The village’s charm lies in silence and detail: a sunlit kitchen with a pot still on the stove, the inscription of an old calendar, ivy threading through a broken arch. Each stone tells a story of lives interrupted. And so, when the evening breeze stirs the shutters and the empty street fades into dusk, one cannot help but feel a kinship with this ghost city – a place that everyone left, but which continues, in its own way, to live on in memory.
Final Reflection: Apice Vecchia stands as a poignant lesson: when nature and fate intervene, even thriving communities can vanish overnight. Its enduring stillness reminds us both of life’s fragility and the persistence of history in every brick and corner.
