Unlike me, Nazy had prepared for anniversary holiday by researching the area. She noted that her book of “1000 things to do before you die” waxed eloquent about the walk along the coast to visit each of the five cities, eh, towns, in Cinque Terre. Each had begun as a fishing community with its own character.
“The towns,” Nazy said, “feature colourful houses perched on the sides of steep cliffs.”
The word ‘steep’ should have gotten my attention. The next morning, armed with a small map, we confidently strode from hotel, walking south. We were greeted by a set of 342 narrow steps (all going up) as soon as we left the hotel grounds. The path continued to wind upward with a mixture of steps and narrow ‘walkways’ precariously perched along the mountain.
“I will not be the first to suggest that we stop and rest,” I thought.
The climb continued. After what seemed like the 32,342nd step, I began to reconsider my options. Nazy, buff and prepared, marched onward and upward, accelerating as she went.
“Why don’t we stop and admire the view?” I asked. “Before I expire,” I thought.
“Are you getting tired, Dan?” Nazy asked.
“Tired? Me? The view is spectacular,” I replied. “But it is hard to enjoy because I’m wheezing, my glasses are fogged and my legs feel like limp spaghetti.” I thought.
“This hike is one of the 1000 things we have to do before we die,” Nazy continued.
“I won’t be able to do the other 999 things if I die on this walk,” I thought.
We (finally) paused just before the path started down toward Vernazza (Nazy thought the town was named after her) where we had lunch. Nazy ordered the ‘local cuisine’ – i.e. fish and a tomato/mozzarella salad. She also befriended fellow tourists from Sweden.
“Sven says that the path to Cornigla, the next town, is long and steep, Dan.”
“Well, if you are not up to it,” I began. “Please, God,” I thought.
“But my book says that the hike is a ‘must’..”
“A ‘must’, my dear?” I replied. “There ‘must’ be a mistake,” I thought.
“We can ask more people,” Nazy suggested. Simultaneously, I began to scan the crowd for people who looked exhausted.
“The towns,” Nazy said, “feature colourful houses perched on the sides of steep cliffs.”
The word ‘steep’ should have gotten my attention. The next morning, armed with a small map, we confidently strode from hotel, walking south. We were greeted by a set of 342 narrow steps (all going up) as soon as we left the hotel grounds. The path continued to wind upward with a mixture of steps and narrow ‘walkways’ precariously perched along the mountain.
“I will not be the first to suggest that we stop and rest,” I thought.
The climb continued. After what seemed like the 32,342nd step, I began to reconsider my options. Nazy, buff and prepared, marched onward and upward, accelerating as she went.
“Why don’t we stop and admire the view?” I asked. “Before I expire,” I thought.
“Are you getting tired, Dan?” Nazy asked.
“Tired? Me? The view is spectacular,” I replied. “But it is hard to enjoy because I’m wheezing, my glasses are fogged and my legs feel like limp spaghetti.” I thought.
“This hike is one of the 1000 things we have to do before we die,” Nazy continued.
“I won’t be able to do the other 999 things if I die on this walk,” I thought.
We (finally) paused just before the path started down toward Vernazza (Nazy thought the town was named after her) where we had lunch. Nazy ordered the ‘local cuisine’ – i.e. fish and a tomato/mozzarella salad. She also befriended fellow tourists from Sweden.
“Sven says that the path to Cornigla, the next town, is long and steep, Dan.”
“Well, if you are not up to it,” I began. “Please, God,” I thought.
“But my book says that the hike is a ‘must’..”
“A ‘must’, my dear?” I replied. “There ‘must’ be a mistake,” I thought.
“We can ask more people,” Nazy suggested. Simultaneously, I began to scan the crowd for people who looked exhausted.
Everybody that had walked between Cornigla and Vernazza recommended the train. Amazingly, Nazy suggested that we take the train. I “reluctantly” agreed. It was an excellent decision. Cornigla, the smallest of the towns, is also the most boring. Getting “there” after a two hour hike would have been disappointing. Luckily the final two stops (Manarola and Riomaggore) were relatively easy and flat walks away.
The photo is of Portofino; more on that in the next posting.
[1] Nazy is convinced that they named the city after her…
[1] Nazy is convinced that they named the city after her…
No comments:
Post a Comment