I rose early to catch the local train to Monterossa, the
northern-most town in the chain of villages where I was planning on starting my
walk back down to Riomaggiore. There was a sign up saying something about the
trail being closed, but the actual trail seemed open, so I decided to chance
it. Made it all the way to the top of the trail, walking with another couple of
Americans I’d met on the trail, only to find it most definitely blocked off due
to landslides. A couple of crazy Germans decided to ignore the gate, saying “No
fear, no fun!” but I didn’t fancy falling off a cliff into the sea so early
into my travels. So I descended the 3000 or so steps back to the town (I may be
slightly exaggerating here), and caught the train to the next town, Vernazza,
where I had lunch near the port. I decided to try the #7 trail that heads up
along the ridgeline rather than the #2 trail that hugs the sea (which was
closed), but somehow missed the turnoff and ended up taking the #2 trail all
the way to the third town, Corniglia. There were no signs of landslides. I then
managed to find the #7 trail which climbed up…and up…and up…and then along
narrow, crumbling paths skirting the terraced cliff edges. Apparently the
landslide was between Corniglia and the next town, Manerola, which would
explain the hordes of 60-something walkers tottering along the trail. Tip of
the day: do the walk from north to south as I did, as most people seem to do it
in the opposite direction, which means you don’t get stuck behind massive tour
groups of (mostly) pensioners defying the risk of heartattacks and broken hips.
After a much needed ice-cream in Manerola, I walked along the paved “Via Dell'Amore" (Love walk) to Riomaggiore, checking out
all the locks hooked up to the fence, which reminded me of the Bridge of Hearts
in Paris.
A few more people had arrived at the hostel so we ended up
having a few drinks, and then heading out to a pub, where one of the silly
American girls made a stupid comment about how “lame” it was that she couldn’t
use her credit card to buy a E3 glass of wine, thoroughly pissing the barman
off. She then refused to let us buy her a drink and instead tried bringing a
bottle of wine from the shop onto the terrace of the bar, which of course
brought the barman out in under a minute to tell her off again. I was
thoroughly embarrassed to be associated with her and suddenly felt really old.
