After a marvelous week in and around Spoleto witih our friends Eric and Carolyn, we'd taken a train back to Rome's Termini to catch another train up the west coast to Vernazza. It was a memorable train ride along the craggy coast with the mountains rising sharply to the east. Lots of small towns and villages flashed by with the ships and boats dotting the background. Perfect weather. Vivid colors. As we neared La Spezia, the big town on this stretch of coast and an important, historical marble port, the heavily mined seams of the famous rock showed as white slashes on the distant mountains. We thought at first that it was snow, which seemed so totally crazy in the humid heat pressing against them.
We already planned to return to La Spezia at some point, but on this day is was where we got off the mainline and onto the local train that serves the length of the Cinque Terra National Park on the rugged coast. We had to hustle to make the connection. We bought our tickets, which were a couple of euros each, I think, but missed the signs in Italian requiring us to get them validated at a machine on the platform, unlike the validation by the conductor that we'd done on the trip up. When the conductor came through he decided to make examples of us, berating us for not having a validation and writing us tickets for 50 euros each. Our fellow riders—many Italian locals—got righteously pissed and demanded that the conductor tear up his punitive scrip. And he did.
When we got to Vernazza one of our supporters from the train made sure we knew our way and offered suggestions for our stay. We also had our first good laugh at ourselves (for that day): almost everyone who was a tourist had gotten off the train and was standing around flipping pages in Rick Steves' guide book. As a group, we resembled an odd fellowship of the book ready to proselytize or anticipating some apocalyptic event.
We got to the tavern where we were to pick up our key and we were told that the room we'd booked—that we'd negotiated carefully because of its location—was not available. We'd have to stay our first night in another, which turned out to have a stunning view north up the coast but was adjacent to the bell tower of the church, and when the bells tolled, they tolled for me—for us—and were loud enough to toss us out of bed. So we appreciated the view (see the photo) and let the landlord know we expected to be moved to the room we'd rented first thing in the morning. We were. For the rest of our stay, the bells were a distant, friendly sound and we had another incredible view from the rocky top of the hill that defined the bay's separation from the sea. It was a serious climb, but worth it. I wish I had a photo of the very narrow spiral staircase—with a heavy rope hanging down its middle as the only handhold—with Linny above me working her way up and both of us carrying our luggage on our heads for two floors. Impressive What goes up, however, must eventually come down.
Being off-season helps a lot because the crowds are gone, but there are still lots of tourists like us—retired or tired. We were happy that we were up to the challenge of those mountainside trails, even pulling ahead of a phalanx of dedicated German hikers one morning and holding our lead on them over a tortured, rubble path that forgot itself now and then, but we found it. And there's more to that story, which I'll put it in its context.
The grapes on these mountainsides are a green variety that's as ancient as ancient and the local viniculture. I suspect that if it weren't for tourists taking bottles home, the locals couldn't put a dent in their harvests. The raw beauty of the area supports the everything with tourism. Still, the views from the trail were spectacular. With the regular local trains, it was easy to reach the trailheads further up or down the coast. There are both high trails and low. We hiked both.
Vernazza is not the most northerly of the cinque towns. That is Montarosso which we'd soon visit. Behind us, to the east, the rugged, precipitous mountainside was woven with terraces of grape vines. We knew from Steves' book that the hiking paths we planned to walk clung to those hillsides and connected all the villages. Vernazza had looked attractive and it was. Having been there, I'd make my base in either Montarosso or La Spezia. But it would be a different susnset.
Linny at our window looking north.
This beautiful place is touristy, but we got there after school had started, so it was tolerably crowded. It was possible to be alone with the awesome spaces.
Vernazza has a protected beach.
Here's the lay of the land.
Getting our cat hit.
This beautiful place is touristy, but we got there after school had started, so it was tolerably crowded. It was possible to be alone with the awesome spaces.
Yes. More cats.
A bit of shopping done.
Breakfast on the main street.
Trees here.
I'm a door person.
Some serious ups & downs in that across.
Our rental was on top of this same massive rock point.
There's no way her but to walk steep, narrow, erratic stairs.
So, we were hungry and tired. "Posso aiutarti?"
Looking toward one of our walks.
We explored the public places.
Another walker kindly took this.
Tourist hotels, mostly.
The harbor.
