Not that it hadn’t been before, but it was after leaving Genova that the cycling really got interesting. There’s far too much to say so I won’t attempt to go into every detail. I’ll let the photos do the talking, for the most part.
As I’d already discovered while hiking a few days back, the entire Ligurian coast is non-stop beautiful, even if that comes at the cost of being non-stop hilly. Now that I’d reached the sea, I stuck close to it as much as possible…and that meant going up and down anything in the way.
I’d given up on Couchsurfing. Finding hosts in this part of Italy had proven difficult and I’d had enough of spending all of my limited time online browsing through profiles. So I settled for camping, and it proved to be the best decision in a while. The sea was everything I needed, anyway – my daily swim replaced my shower, I had an endless supply of water for boiling food, and could wash up my mess tins and cutlery in no time.
For a while, the days faded into one another as I fell into a routine. It went something as follows. Wake up to the rising sun, pack up the tent, forage for some fruit for breakfast, have breakfast by the sea, quick morning swim, cycle for a few hours, stop for ice cream and another swim, cycle some more till the sun gets low in the sky, and find a spot to pitch the tent for the night. If there ever was a routine to fall into, this was it.
By the time I stopped to count, I realised seven days had already passed since leaving Genova. Seven days of fantastic cycling and breathtaking views (and yes – seven days without a shower or bed).
I’m switching to thumbnails because I’ve got way too many photos – click on them to view in higher resolution.
I passed through an endless number of picturesque small towns.
Each night’s camping spot topped the previous one
and there was no shortage of postcard-perfect sunsets
Even the few tunnels which I had no choice but to pass through were awesome. There wasn’t a single car in sight.
The hills were killers, but it’s never been more worth it.
– – –
Along the way, my route took me back to Fossola where we’d met Siro earlier. I’d hoped to find him there and ask to camp out on his terrace of wonders. It wasn’t so much for his shower – the sea was serving me just fine, but I needed a place to charge up my laptop and phone. When I arrived, he was nowhere to be seen. But I figured that had he known I was around, I’d have been more than welcome to stay the night. So I helped myself in. I knew the drill from the first time round – reach through the bars to unlock the gate, open the water mains, and just make sure to leave everything as I’d found it when leaving.
My only concern was being seen – meeting Siro himself would have been great, of course, but attracting attention from neighbours could have given me some explaining to do. Explaining which I’m not too sure my broken Italian would have been capable of. So I kept the explaining to a written note to Siro, where I had time to choose my words (and get some help from Google Translate along the way).
By the sixth day, things were starting to change. Already from the hilltop town of Montemarcello, just before the regional border with Tuscany, I could see the perfectly flat coastline beyond, stretching right to the horizon.
As I was going down my final hill, I heard something rattling behind me and stopped to check it out. It turned out to be nothing much – just my cutlery inside the panniers. As I was there, though, two cyclists appeared, both wheeling their bikes uphill, and stopped to ask for help. They were out for their first ride on brand new bikes, and had gotten stranded with a flat tyre and no spare tubes or pump. They wanted to know where the nearest bike shop was. No idea, I said, but I could do better than that. All it took was a patch, a pump and a few minutes, and they were back on the bikes again.
Well, almost. Let’s first take a selfie.
Even with the change in terrain, the routine remained unchanged.
Just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, I came across this on the afternoon of the seventh day.
I didn’t need to cover any more distance, so after a ride into the nearest town to pick up some groceries, I returned and made it mine for the night. I didn’t even need to unpack my tent – perfect!
It was surreal. There were, at first, some fishermen casting their nets close by, but after they’d packed up and left I really had the whole place to myself. I may have been in Italy and just a few kilometres from tourist-haven Viareggio. Right here, though, I could have been on any deserted remote island. Just me, the waves and the stars.
Then again, it’s probably for the better that I wasn’t actually on a deserted remote island. Half way through that night, my luck ran out. Even though the weather had seemed totally fine when I’d gone to sleep, I woke up at 3 AM to the sound of thunder in the distance. It looked intense – there was a full-blown storm raging out at sea. Really? Tonight, of all nights?
I waited and watched for a while to see which way the storm was headed. It was still far so I’d hoped I might be fine. I couldn’t really tell, but as I lay there I started to gradually see fewer and fewer stars above me. As great as my tepee was, it offered practically no shelter from the rain. And being right by the sea under the tallest thing around, if lightning were to strike it wouldn’t have been pretty. Time to make a move, damn it.
I packed everything up, loaded the bike, turned on my lights and headed back off towards the (not-so-near) nearest town. During my earlier trip for groceries I’d seen some potential places to shelter, so I at least had a plan in mind. Moving off the beach turned out to have been for the better. Even as I was still cycling, the storm started moving inland and was catching up fast, making its way right over where I’d been just a few minutes earlier. I eventually made it to shelter in Migliarino having met only a slight drizzle. Had I left just a few minutes later, though, I’d have been soaked.
The weather hadn’t improved too much by the morning. The rain had at least stopped, but dark clouds still loomed overhead and the forecast wasn’t sounding good. It didn’t matter, though. I only had a few kilometres to go till Pisa, and that afternoon I’d be meeting some old friends who lived there and I’d have a roof over my head again. Now that I’d practically arrived, it could’ve rained all it wanted.
– – – – – – – –
Like what you read? Keep up to date with the latest by subscribing to the newsletter and following on your favourite social network – we’re on facebook, twitter and instagram, and now also on strava.
In case you’ve missed it, the left-hand sidebar’s got the same social media links, a subscribe form and an RSS link, amongst a few other bits and pieces. Click the black menu symbol in the top-left of your browser window to open it up.
As always, also feel free to get in touch either directly or by commenting below :). I’d also ask for a donation in aid of Homebound’s beneficiaries, but it’s too late for that now. The fundraising initiative’s over, and we’ve raised over €1500! A big thanks to all those who contributed!
