Hiking the Five Lands

I’ve realised that I never really explained why I took a few days’ break from the bike and how the spontaneous hiking trip came to be. So here goes.

Back at the Couchsurfing party in Nancy I’d met Elodie, a friend of my host’s. I had to keep heading south the next day, but I’d casually mentioned something to her about meeting further along the road. A few days later, she got back to me to say that flights were booked.

Her and a friend of hers, Nina, would be flying to Pisa and coming to join me as I passed through the Cinqueterre, the famed five small towns nestled along the Ligurian coast. I was meant to have been there by bike in time to meet up. Yet we’d meanwhile decided hiking was a better idea and I was also a few days behind schedule, so I figured it’d be best to leave my bike with Silvia in Alessandria for a while. From there I’d take the train to Pisa to meet Elodie and Nina, we’d head to La Spezia together, and once the whole hiking trip was over I’d then return to Alessandria and continue by bike from where I’d left off. It meant delaying my arrival in Malta by a week at least, but that wasn’t too big a deal. On the positive side, it meant that I would experience the Cinqueterre and surroundings twice in two very different ways – first by hiking along the coastal paths, and then by taking the roads which pass further inland. Both, needless to say, turned out to be great.

But for now, back to the hiking. That’s how the side-trip came to be, and as planned I was now on my way to Pisa by train. The flight was coming in late evening, so I’d tracked down the one and only Flavio through Couchsurfing, who’d offered to host the three of us at his place (or his friend’s grandfather’s place, more precisely) for the night. After my train came in I headed straight to Eurospin (mobile app told me there was one right behind the station) to prepare for the night’s meal – bragoli. If you haven’t take my word on how awesome Eurospin is just yet, consider this a good example – I was shopping for five people and also bought a few extra things for breakfast, and still paid a grand total of €19. Eurospin, now that I’ve found you there’s no going back.

I eventually met Flavio and Nicolo (whose grandfather’s place we’d be staying at) back at the train station, and we headed over to ‘their’ place. The flight was landing soon, so I dropped my stuff off and we headed straight to the airport by car. And sure enough, a few minutes later reunited we all were.

In the meantime, Nicolo had vanished together with the apartment’s keys. But not to worry, French people travel prepared with a few bottles of wine for such moments. Street party time!

 

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Nicolo eventually reappeared, and once we were inside bragoli-making ensued. I soon realised we’d forgotten a few key ingredients though – we had no toothpicks, and no flour to thicken the stew. Flavio also disapproved of the plan to serve the bragoli with spaghetti – apparently that’s like, unheard of in Italy. Still, we eventually reached a few compromises and all was fine.

Along the way we came to a new discovery. We didn’t have toothpicks to hold the rolled bragoli together, and though sceptical at first, I decided to give bits of raw spaghetti a try as substitutes. As it turned out, they did just as well. Or even better, actually – the pasta eventually cooks in the stew, so gone are the days of hoping you won’t come across a hidden toothpick when taking your next bite of bragola.

 

Step 1 - Roll. (Photo credit - Elodie Pornet)
Step 1 – Roll. (Photo credit – Elodie Pornet)

 

Step 2 - Fry (Photo credit - Elodie Pornet)
Step 2 – Fry (Photo credit – Elodie Pornet)

 

Step 3 - Eat (Photo credit - Elodie Pornet)
Step 3 – Serve (Photo credit – Elodie Pornet)

 

With the bragoli and spaghetti eaten up (or just bragoli in Flavio’s case), Flavio offered to take us for a quick walk round Pisa by night. Only, in Italy there’s no such thing as a quick walk. We’d seen the city, got our compulsory photos with the tower, and were ready to head to bed. Flavio, though, had run into some friends on the way back and stopped to chat, and an hour later we’d hardly moved from that same spot.

 

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Photo credit – Elodie Pornet

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The next morning, we took a train to La Spezia and a bus to Portovenere, from where we’d be starting out on foot. We’d only thought of it as a convenient place to start our hike, but it also turned out to be a beautiful town complete with a clifftop fortress and chapel by the sea.

 

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Photo credit - Nina Gallant
Photo credit – Nina Gallant

 

The first day’s hiking route turned out to be quite tough, and set the tone for what was to come. This entire portion of the coastline seems to be made up of headland-inlet-headland, repeated over and over. We were more or less following the coast, so that meant hiking up over one headland after another, often with stairs most of the way up.

 

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Photo credit – Elodie Pornet

 

Still, it made for great hiking (as subjective as that may be), and already on the first day on foot I’d had some of the best views of the whole trip so far.

 

Portovenere from above
Portovenere from above

 

Having company guarantees some photos of me for a change (Photo credit - Elodie Pornet)
Having company guarantees some photos of me for a change (Photo credit – Elodie Pornet)

 

Photo credit - Elodie Pornet
Photo credit – Elodie Pornet

 

Also great was the vegetation. We weren’t going to go hungry here, being surrounded by fig trees, cactus, grape vines, peach trees and fennel all around. With some luck, you could even find the occasional wild berries and rosemary shrub.

 

Photo credit - Elodie Pornet
Photo credit – Elodie Pornet

 

Photo credit - Elodie Pornet
Photo credit – Elodie Pornet

 

As we were heading down to the coast from the main hiking path, we found quite the camping spot for the night. The bags stayed behind while we headed down the rest of the way to the sea to check it out. It was a bit too rough for the swim we’d hoped for, so we instead sat on the rocks and watched the waves as the sun was setting.

 

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Our campsite for the night
Our campsite for the night

 

How not to pitch a tent, courtesy of Nina and Elodie
How not to pitch a tent, courtesy of Nina and Elodie

 

We tried our luck with the sea again the next morning, but not much had changed and it was still too rough to go for a swim. Still, Nina had settled for splashing around in the waves (or being splashed around by the waves, rather), and it didn’t take too much convincing to join in.

Once we’d headed back up towards the night’s campsite and beyond, the path we were following soon took a turn for the worse. Depending on whom you ask, you’ll either be told that we were lost (not the case) or simply following a path which didn’t quite exist anymore (much closer to the truth). Without any proper markings, a few times we were left to guess where the path actually went, and needed to double back every few minutes. Yet it all worked out in the end, and a few hours later we’d made it back onto a well-marked path.

The only problem now was that we were running low on water. Each time we saw a few houses up ahead we’d count on refilling our bottles there, but as the path approached it would skip the houses, passing a few levels above them along the terraced hillsides. We were getting desperate after a while, and I decided to try making my way down to the nearest house to see if I could get us something to drink. That was when we found this.

 

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And this.

 

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Score.

Ironically a few minutes further along our original path we came to a proper water tap. Still, it made for a good spot for a lunch break, so we stopped there for some spaghetti.

 

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Around an hour after we’d gotten moving again, we passed through the small village of Fossola. That was where we met Siro. Siro like Milan’s San Siro, only he’s no saint, he explained. As we were walking up one hiking path out of the village and into the hills, we’d met some friendly locals who asked where we wanted to go and advised us against following our original route.

Amongst them was Siro, and he invited us onto his terrace to show us some other options on the map. That led to a few glasses of wine together, which led to a full tour of the house, and before we knew it we’d been invited to spend the night there. It was too good to refuse – we had a place to shower, we had a table and chairs, and didn’t need to worry about finding a camping spot any more. It may not sound like much, but at that point it was all the luxury we could’ve possibly asked for. And it was totally unplanned and unexpected, making it infinitely better. Siro, whatever you say, you’re definitely a saint to us.

 

Nina the explorer
Nina the explorer

 

The legend himself
The legend himself

 

Photo credit - Elodie Pornet
Photo credit – Elodie Pornet

 

Photo credit - Nina Gallant
Photo credit – Nina Gallant

 

So saintly was Siro, that it turned out he was letting us stay there even though he wasn’t going to be around himself. We hadn’t really understood originally, but as the sun was setting he started to say goodbye. We eventually figured out that this was just his summer residence, and he was heading back to home proper in La Spezia for the night. Before heading off he asked us one final time if everything was alright and we had what we needed. When we asked if there was anywhere we could get some bread for dinner, he told me to follow him. We walked round Fossola and he asked a few neighbours, but no one had any to spare. So, worried that we’d go hungry, he drove off on his scooter to get us some. Siro, you’re the best.

 

Post-dinner cards
Post-dinner cards

 

The next day we followed the coast down to Riomaggiore, the first of the Cinqueterre. More great views along the way, even if we now no longer had the paths entirely to ourselves.

 

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We walked down to the marina and stopped at a restaurant for lunch. The food was great but the portions miniscule, so when we later came across a pizza place offering an XXXL pizza for €5 on our walk through the town, it was a no-brainer.

 

Photo credit - Elodie Pornet
Photo credit – Elodie Pornet

 

Feeds 4-6 people, they said. Right. One slice each for the girls, and the rest was all mine.

Hiking from here on got a bit more complicated since many trails were still closed following the devastating floods which hit the region a few years back. We were also running out of time, so we covered the rest of the towns with a combination of hiking and trains. I won’t even attempt to describe the views.

 

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When we eventually got to Monterosso, the last of the five, it was time for Elodie and Nina to say goodbye. They’d be heading back to Pisa by train for their return flight, so after a swim, a quick lunch and some photo swapping we tracked down the town’s train station and off they were.

And so, as quickly as it’d come, the hiking side-trip had reached its end. Having some company for a few days was great – it’s always interesting and potentially disastrous travelling with someone you don’t know too well, yet this time it had worked out for the most part.

Cinqueterre, I’ll be back in a week for more!

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