Campiglia to Portovernere, Beyond the Cinque Terre

Liguria, home to the Italian Riviera, is one of Italy's smallest regions. It sits in the wide, sweeping arch of northwestern Italy facing the Ligurian Sea with the Apennine Mountains forming a majestic backdrop. In between is a land of steep valleys that drop precipitously to a crystalline blue/green sea. Picturesque fishing villages cling to its coast, including the Cinque Terre, five seaside towns that are so special that in 1997 they were named a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Once a well-kept secret, the five towns are now part of the Cinque Terre National Park and have become one of Italy's best-known and most visited tourist spots. On weekends, especially in summer, the beautiful trail along the sea that connects the five towns is crowded with walkers. 

What many people don't know is that just south of the Cinque Terre is another town, Portovenere, that is every bit as beautiful as the other five. Portovenere is part of the same Park that encompasses the Cinque Terre, but it is not as closely linked as the other five towns. It's a three to four hour hike from Riomaggiore, the most southern of the Cinque Terre, to Portovenere. 

Portovenere can be reached by car, but we took the train from Pisa to La Spezia and then a bus to Le Grazie, where we began our hike. All this was easily accomplished with the aide of our friend Francesca, who knows every twist and turn of all the hiking trails in the area. After getting off the bus, it was just a short walk to the trailhead. 

Not a hike for the faint of heart, the trail begins on an ancient mulattiera. These mule trails, found all over Italy, were once the public roads that connected villages, particularly in mountainous areas. Our mulattiera, composed of thousands of steps made of local stones, zigzagged through the forest climbing quickly and steeply toward the medieval village of Campiglia, our first stop. 

Campiglia is well worth the climb. From the piazza in front of the church, there is a view of the busy harbor of the Gulf of La Spezia, the Ligurian Sea and the Apennine Mountains. On this day, clouds covered the lower slopes of the mountains so that the majestic peaks appeared suspended in a dreamscape of sea and sky.   

In the gastronomic world, Campiglia is known for its high-quality saffron, made from the stems of the crocus plant. (It takes about 150,000 flowers to make one kilo of saffron.) In times past, the saffron was made only from the wild crocuses that grow in profusion on the surrounding hills. About 10 years ago, however, the town began cultivating crocus and now has a thriving industry.  

Fortunately for us, the cafe on the main street in Campiglia was closed and in our search for another, we discovered Piccoloblu, a charming cafe/restaurant, where everything is homemade using local products. Sitting in the sun with an incredible view of the sea, we sampled several offerings, including the best onion focaccia I have ever tasted. Fortified, we struck out for Portovenere. 

Just outside of Campiglia were two signs indicating trails to Portovenere - one marked difficoltoso.  "Not so difficult," said Francesca, "and much more beautiful than the other." The difficulty is the steepness of the descent and the loose rocks underfoot. The beauty is everything: the distant mountains, the sun-baked cliffs of Monte Castellana aglow with flowering plants and, of course, the sea on both sides of the promontory that runs swiftly downhill to Portovenere. 

Midway along the path is a rocky plateau, where the sun on the rocks turned spring into summer. It was a perfect place for a snack (hiking makes you hungry) and a leisurely look at the almost surreal panorama of Portovenere and the islands of Palmaria, Tino and Tinetto. If I ever get around to writing my book, "Great Picnic Spots of the World," this place will surely be in it. The warmth of the sun also coaxed forth some early wild asparagus that we gathered in anticipation of a evening frittata.  

As we got closer to Portovenere, the larger panorama gave way to beautiful details: the black and white facade of the 11th-century Chiesa di San Pietro on its rocky perch high above the sea, the imposing Genovese military fortress, and the Golfo dei Poeti, an inlet that was admired by poets from Petrarch to Byron. Beyond we could see fishing boats in the harbor and the quayside lined with brightly-colored medieval buildings.  

It started to rain just after we reached Portovenere, but it was a light drizzle that only added to the romance of the town and the sea. We visited the church and walked the old, medieval main street, where every store sold local products, including rich, creamy pesto from nearby Genova.  

Then it was back to Pisa for a wonderful meal prepared by Francesca's husband, Fabrizio, that included a frittata with the wild, freshly-gathered asparagus.




To see more photos, click here.

A presto, 

Geraldine

Photos by Geraldine Calisti Kaylor
Italy

ITALIAN TRAIN MUSINGS

I met Marco some years ago in Lesson 1 of my "Italian for Beginners on CD."  We were destined to spend a lot of time together and although, eventually, we both went our separate ways, I learned a lot from Marco. For instance, in that first lesson, we took a train trip together and Marco taught me the word sciopero meaning strike - as in, the train workers are on strike. In Lesson 2, (with the strike over) Marco and I were on our way to Genova. We should have arrived at mezzogiorno, just in time for lunch, but a friendly fellow passenger informed us that questo treno è sempre in ritardo - this train is always late.  

Italian friends tell us that Trenitalia has gone decidedly  downhill from its high point in the 1970s when it was a leader in efficiency, technology and service. However, being from Michigan -  where train travel outside the main Detroit to Chicago line is nearly non-existent -  train service in Italy looks pretty good to me. Tickets can be purchased online on a well-organized web site. Trains are reasonably priced, on time more often than not and take you to every part of Italy. You can step out of a train beside the canals of Venice, the Renaissance walls of Lucca or just a stone's throw from the Ducal Gardens of Parma. (To read the Travel Oyster post on Parma, click here.) 

The scenery on the line between Pisa and Parma is beautiful. The first train runs up the coast to La Spezia, with the sea on one side and the marble-rich Apuane Mountains on the other. The train from La Spezia to Parma, just two cars long, is modern and comfortable. It goes up the Taro River valley with views of ancient towns and castles, gently rolling hills and the majestic Apennine Mountains.

Everything went like clockwork until the last leg of our journey at LaSpezia, where we were catching the InterCity train from Genoa to Rome, with a stop in Pisa Centrale.  

As I went to check the schedule board, I overheard someone say - like an echo of my early Italian lessons - "questo treno è sempre in ritardo."  And, sure enough, the board said the train would be late - first by five, then 10, then 20, then 30 minutes. We knew, however, that there was a ordinarily slower regional train that would get us back earlier than the delayed InterCity, especially since it stopped at Pisa San Rossore, a station closer to home. 

What happened next shows that even experienced travelers can make mistakes. In the dark, it was difficult to see all the station names, but we thought San Rossore was the stop after Viareggio. We should have checked more closely because the train makes an additional stop at Torre del Lago -- and that is where we, mistakenly, got off at 9:30 on a Sunday night. Luckily for us, there was one more train to Pisa. Unluckily for us, it wasn't until 11:14 p.m. 

Since we had almost two hours to wait, a nice bowl of pasta in a quaint trattoria sounded like a good idea. Torre del Lago is the home of the Puccini Festival in summer, but on a Sunday night in April, it was deserted. A tour of the downtown yielded only a take-out pizza joint with one wobbly plastic table. We sat down, clinked our plastic cups and ate a slightly-undercooked pizza.  

When we got back to the station, it was locked and dark. A railroad employee arrived, went into the station and managed to set off an alarm. He fiddled for a while to turn it off, gave up and left with the alarm still ringing. An automatic announcement told us that the train was approaching and that the arrival track had been changed from Track 1 to Track 2. (This is something, I must admit, that Trenitalia seems to do regularly and always at the last minute). A second announcement then reminded us that it was forbidden to walk across the tracks. We would have had to leave the station, walk down some steps, cross the street, walk up some steps and reenter the station. 

Obey the regulation or miss the train? I'm not sure what Marco would have done, but we picked up our bags, looked both ways and then ran across the tracks. Right on time at 11:14 p.m, the last train to Pisa pulled into the station. We got on and took it to the next stop: Pisa San Rossore.

To see more photos, click here.

Ciao,

Geraldine

Photos by Geraldine Calisti Kaylor

Pisa
Italy