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The Hills Are Alive In Italy

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By ROB PIERCE, Tribune Correspondent

Published: December 7, 2007

MONTEROSSO, Italy - MONTEROSSO, Italy - In "Star Trek," Capt. Kirk could be beamed up in seconds. What if today's traveler could go from one international seaside resort to another in three to five minutes, avoiding all the hassle of modern travel without even security inspection and baggage check-in?

That's the case for five knockout destinations in northwestern Italy called the Cinque Terre (Five Lands). They don't do it with light beams but rather with a spiffy little electric train that runs mostly in tunnels. Or you grab a fast, sleek coastal ferry.

When you get to the next town, you don't call taxis or dodge motorcycles and trucks because there are almost none. You walk right into the middle of activity.

History never intended the Cinque Terre to be resorts. They were fishing villages built on ravines plunging down through vineyards to the Ligurian Sea. All were ignored by the medieval powers of the region — Florence, Pisa and Genoa and even the Turkish pirates who ravaged the coast.

They stayed small (their populations range from 250 to 2,000) because each ravine made space for one street and a few alleys. Only in recent times has the ravine been covered and became a real street.

With no room to grow outward, houses grew upward. This made the towns magnets for painters and photographers — dwellings ranked like organ pipes, painted in a bouquet of pastels and roofed with tile or slate. Legend says that when invaded by pirates, old-time residents would escape to hills reached from upper stories.

Perhaps more than the individual villages, the walk between them is the big draw. Now run as a national park, the wild, noncommercial hills are traversed by pathways that begin abruptly at the towns' edges. Then for stretches taking 20 to 90 minutes between towns, one is surrounded by olive and lemon trees, vineyards, tilted slabs of rock that provide the daring with sunbathing and the endless rolling sea framed by massive headlands surging into the waves.

The water is chilly, clear and sparkling, but beaches are small and few, except for wide swaths at the northernmost town, Monterosso, and a smaller strand at Vernazza. Swim shoes are recommended because of sea urchins. Vigorous efforts are going toward saving the ocean floor as a marine park.

Four intertown walks along the cliff faces seem programmed with increasing difficulty, starting on the southeast end. Going from Riomaggiore, the first stretch is called Via dell'Amore because once it provided an after-dark meeting place for lovers, and Cupid still reigns in the graffiti.

For daytime, the walk is wide enough for baby strollers and almost flat, taking only 20 minutes and little sweat.

The second section, from Manarola to Corniglia, is similar but slightly steeper and more slippery, although improvements are under way. It takes 45 minutes.

Next comes the only serious test of stamina. Corniglia perches on a craggy cliff and is nowhere near a port. Athletes can clamber up 375 zigzag metal stairs, but most hikers bypass them with a shuttle bus to the top.

On the trail beyond Corniglia, although the climbs are milder than the stairs, the track is rugged. Outstanding scenery is the reward. That doesn't even count a nude beach, too far for any peeking except with binoculars. A bar along the way provides relief before arriving in Vernazza.

The final part, ending in Monterosso, is rated at 90 minutes like the previous one. It also ranks high on scenery but low on ease of walking. Some consider it dangerous because of the rocky trail surface.

Rigors of the journey are diminished because in every town one can recover with food, drink and a shaded chair, swapping tales with fellow veterans. Besides, there's the option of grabbing a train and saving the next link for another day.

Hikers sturdy enough to complete the oceanfront trail usually consider that enough of a feat. But those with more stamina can spend virtually endless time tramping through trails behind the towns and farther up the hillsides. Their reward is more sweeping views of the coast and close-ups of hamlets along the way.

One well-known trek leads northward out of Manarola through lush vineyards where hikers can visit cellars and taste the wine. Government tourist offices provide maps.

Vernazza: The Big Grape

As for the main towns, Vernazza, second most northwestern, is the most highly considered by tourists. Travel guru Rick Steves put the Cinque Terre on the adventure map a dozen years ago, and his word has been law ever since, even to influencing room rental fees. Most purveyors show off a snapshot with him, but it is not true that they cross themselves at his mention.

Vernazza, like its sisters, is a place where people live — far more traditionally than in the big cities. Residents are more likely to own a boat than a car, pause to chat in the street (especially at dusk), treasure families, dress casually and are big church goers. You probably will find no scammers or panhandlers, except room-rental touters sometimes at the train station.

A walk around the town won't take long — a half-hour, easily. It's hard to believe that it's this way all year and isn't like a magical Brigadoon, disappearing seasonally.

Head first for the top of the hill, where the modern world ends. It has a bank, post office, parking lot and emergency services house. Vehicles from the world of expressways are legal to this point via a small road. Lower access is controlled by a gate, which generally allows only a few small service trucks and a municipal minivan for the old and weary.

Going downhill, one passes the train station and the intervillage walking trail with detailed map signs. Step by step, the bouquet of house colors comes alive, and the residents going about chores would make it look like Brigadoon except for the morning joggers. The fact that there are more ice-cream shops (gelaterias) than bars defines the town's visitor appeal.

Because of the rocky coast, Vernazza is the only link in the chain with the semblance of a natural harbor, augmented by a breakwater and marked by a few fishing boats bobbing at buoys. This is backed up by a small beach, which doubles as a sort-of soccer field. Off to one side, a modest church overlooks the spread, although for protection against sea surges it has no seaward entry; visitors must climb uphill to find a door.

The piazza hugs the buildings ringing the harbor, filled largely with outdoor restaurants and cafes with colorful awnings. Thus Vernazza boasts something its four siblings lacks: a focal point where one can glimpse and photograph a 360-degree view of its main features.

Up a cliff south of the piazza are the ruins of a castle and a fort, dating from Vernazza's medieval importance as a defense against pirates.

Several highly considered restaurants fringe the grassy park.

Monterosso: Facilities

Ranking the other four towns easily stirs an argument among old Cinque Terre hands. It is easier to sort them by type.

Monterosso, the northwest anchor, has a third of the region's population. It boasts two areas, new and old. Many travelers who fail to find space in the other towns settle for one of the 25 lodgings in the new town. The train stops a short walk or shuttle ride from either section.

The new area, Fegina, clearly claims nothing but modern functionality. The old one ranks near Vernazza for scenery and quaintness.

Coming from the station, traveler pass a sweeping beach with chairs, umbrellas and rental kayaks. The path passes a German World War II bunker before descending to a spacious piazza with more beach, cafes, a ferry dock and many outdoor cafes.

Nearby are two notable church buildings with varicolored Carrara marble used for decoration, including an oratory maintained by village men for charity works.

Stone stairs from the piazza lead to more historical religious buildings that are open to visits. A working Capuchin monastery has a church with a painting attributed to Anthony Van Dyck, who worked in the region. Beyond a centuries-old cemetery lie the ruins of a castle, with an intact keep.

Back near ground level, Monterosso is a maze of restaurants — quaint but clearly aimed at tourists. Just walking in the cool, shadowy portals is fun enough, and chic shopping is abundant.

So is nightlife. Mostly near the waterfront with great views, the bars offer the full range, from Cinque Terre wines by the glass, imported beers, snacks, even tapas (yes, tapas).

It's a rocking scene, but it fades around midnight.

Riomaggiore: Down Home

At the opposite end of the Cinque Terre, Riomaggiore (Big River) comes closest to being a real Italian town, not a resort. There are no hotels or rooming houses except for two modest affairs at the uphill entrance to the town.

In the old section, dwellings consist of separate rooms or studios rented by two agencies, Mar Mar and Edi's, each with about two dozen units widely scattered. The very hospitable agents check you in, take you through the alleys to your room, hand you the key, and that's it. Bountiful help is available back at the office.

Despite the air of authenticity, there is no doubt that a large part of the economy is tourism. It just doesn't flaunt it as much as Monterosso and Vernazza.

From the far upper end, with the handful of modern facilities, the main street plunges steeply past shops selling groceries, meat, bakery goods, books, ice cream, laundry service, even souvenirs.

A large part of the foot traffic is neighbors catching up with gossip and hauling home their supplies. Twilight bird concerts are unfailing. An ingenious small soccer field is mounted on a two-story-tall platform above the main drag. School rooms are tucked away at odd spots. No TV antennae are allowed – only cable.

Since the town has no real piazza, it allows cafes to usurp spots in the main street for covered galleries, complete with lavish flower boxes. At the far end, stairs plunge under the soccer field and come out onto a marina with niches for bars and restaurants.

Beyond and around a bend, there is a minuscule beach, mostly rocks. Also offered in the marina are kayak rentals, snorkeling, scuba and boat excursions.

Night life is nothing to compare with Monterosso's, but several bars have lively evenings.

The day's end recreation is wrapping your hand around a drink and watching the sun set stunningly over a headland.

Manarola: Some of All

Closest to being a sampler of all five towns, minus Corniglia, Manarola offers lodgings ranging from a pricey sea-view hotel to an appealing hostel. It has a rocky swimming area and an elevated playground similar to Riomaggiore's, a good collection of eating places and a Gothic church with good art.

Manarola's point of pride is its challenging walk through the hills.

This goes through vineyards that form the center of the Cinque Terre's remaining wine district. Zigzag paths climb through the grape fields, and olive groves with a pervasive smell of rosemary.

The vineyard walk also provides some of the area's best photo ops, and a stopover in the town's cemetery comes toward the end. Its facilities range from in-the-ground graves to shoebox-size wall drawers and common boneyards (concealed).

Another attraction is a series of wooden religious scenes carved by a local man in tribute to his late father.

Corniglia: At The Top

For those who want to be squarely in the middle of the Cinque Terre but far above it all, Corniglia is the answer, sitting serenely atop a cliff. Ten minutes will suffice to tour the town center, although paths lead into the hills. Walking around the center reveals a quiet, rather mysterious ambience, broken only by three restaurants, a wine bar, an ice-cream counter and a takeout.

The excursion ends in a mini piazza with a breathtaking view from the cliff — a good place for picnics.

Corniglia's only notoriety comes from its nude beach, Guvano. Carrying an essential water bottle, one approaches from the train station, buzzes at an entrance gate and pays 5 euros for the privilege of watching a lot of dreadlocks, tattoos, piercings and overtanned skin.

Only part of the clientele goes all bare. Because of tides, the beach's size ranges from small to tiny.

Rob Pierce, a retired University of Florida journalism professor, is a freelance travel writer who lives in Micanopy.

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