Our second full day in the Cinque Terre was earmarked for hiking. Our group was split on the routes. Because Julie and Alec were leaving for Rome the next day, they planned to hike from Monterosso back to Manarola. I had zero interest in a hike that long, so Steve and I opted for a hike to the town just to the north, Corniglia. The Blue Path, which requires a Cinque Terre hiking pass, is the easiest route to Corniglia. It’s a 1.5 mile hike with 428 feet of elevation gain. Sadly, that route has been closed for years due to a landslide. The alternate route to Corniglia takes you up the hill rather than around it, sending you through the town of Volastra, before descending into Corniglia. It’s classified as difficult because it’s twice as long and there is 1338 feet of elevation gain. Steve and I figured we were up to the challenge, being used to the rarefied air of Colorado and all. Our legs might fail us before our lungs.

To avoid the heat of the day, we began before nine without any espresso on board. We decided that espresso in Corniglia would be the reward for our efforts. The hike begins relatively flat. Then you reach the steps. These are the steps. Well, this is a small section of them anyway. They are not level. They are not all large. Good hiking shoes are a must. We wore new trail runners with plenty of grip. Still, I was fairly certain my legs would be sore the next day.

The first part of this hike gets you up and above Manarola. As we climbed, I stopped to look behind us and capture a few photos. (Can’t reiterate enough that photo breaks are the key to resting while not appearing you needed a rest). The lower section of Manarola closest to the sea disappeared from view early on. I was able to pick out our rental and its balcony from this viewpoint.

We reached a flat spot with the view I had been waiting to see, up the coast to Corniglia and beyond. Alas, we were not finished gaining elevation. Volastra was still uphill and out of view, so we kept on trucking.

At last we reached Volastra and glimpsed Nostra Signora della Salute (Our Lady of Health) church, which dates back to at least 1240 AD. Volastra is very small, two main streets, so you aren’t in it long before you are back on the path, which opens up and allows you to spy Corniglia as she looms larger.

From this point, the trail skirted the sides of the terraced hills, weaving its way between vineyards growing the grapes of the Cinque Terre’s famed wine, Sciacchetrá (sha-keh-TRA). A sign found among the vines beckoned: “The vines of the Sciacchetrá find you on the road to celebrations. Here the grapes are born for a wine for special occasions. Come and try it.” Sciacchetrá is a sweet, dessert wine, often enjoyed with biscotti that you dunk in the wine. It’s tasty and became my go-to dessert. Think of it as Italy’s cookies and milk, but drunk. Parts of the trail beyond Volastra found us walking near the edge of cliffs above the sea. The railings made it feel slightly less precarious, but only slightly. We kept our eye out for the marker, two stripes (white over red), that let us know we were still on the right path.

We began our descent towards Corniglia, becoming more and more driven by our desire for our morning coffee. The trail took us through a small, forested area with lush vegetation before Corniglia grew increasingly larger in our field of view. We’d made it!

Corniglia, the smallest of the Cinque Terre towns with approximately 150 residents, was beginning to see an influx of travelers who had arrived by train. We wove our way through them and found a small cafe serving avocado toasts and espresso. We took a few minutes to enjoy our caffeine, Steve with his cappuccino and me with my doppio espresso, before beginning our exploration of life in a small town. We traversed the quaint, narrow passageways and found it to be not so different from life at home. Traffic. Laundry. And the ubiquitous bubble tea establishment.

We had planned only to hike to Corniglia but, when we checked our messages, we learned the rest of the gang were nearly finished with their hike to Vernazza. So, we thought, “What the hell? Why not hike there? It’s all downhill from here.” We pointed ourselves toward the trailhead to Vernazza we had seen on our way in.

The hike to Vernazza was along the Blue Path, so we got to show our hiking pass to the guard before we headed out. We felt very official. This hike was was 2.1 miles and rated moderate. Aside from the rising temperatures as we pushed towards noon, the hike was indeed easier and we had picked the right direction from which to start. Because it was later in the day, there were many more people on this hike than on our previous one. Still, the views were good, and I was excited to step foot in our last of the five towns.

We reached the heights of the town after descending what felt like hundreds of stairs. On our way to meet everyone, we passed a quaint restaurant with a patio overlooking the town and made a mental note of it. We found our people hanging out near the beach, where my sister, Julie, had made good on her promise to get into the sea. I wanted to wander around a bit and shop, but Vernazza was packed. It was, by far, the most crowded town we visited. We wandered down to the sea to get a photo of the town and then tried in vain to find a restaurant with an available table close to the water, but no luck. By this time, we were all famished from hiking, so we set off back up the hill to find the place Steve and I had passed on our way down. It was one of the happiest random choices we made on the trip. When we arrived, they had only recently opened for lunch, so we had our pick of seats. We chose bar top seating facing the sea and ordered Aperol Spritzes. While we were enjoying our well-deserved beverages, it began sprinkling. Fearing another deluge like the previous day, we asked if we could move further in, under the patio structure, to avoid having Julie get soaked again. That also turned out to be a good choice as the rain began to fall steadily as soon as we began ordering our meals. We’d taken the last tables under the shelter, so today it was someone else’s turn to get wet. Steve ordered the white lasagna and I ordered trofie al pesto, a local specialty I formed a deep and lasting relationship with. The plan had been to share the food between the two of us, but we each loved our own dishes so much we refused to share, although we did agree to one bite each.

Stuffed with pasta, the others decided they didn’t need to do any additional hiking that day and en masse we opted for the short train ride back to Manarola. We bought some additional groceries from the local store and trudged our way back uphill to our apartment where we planned to prepare dinner later and enjoy another sunset from the patio.

After dinner, Mother Nature gifted us a gorgeous sunset before we tucked ourselves into bed. We were exhausted. Just before I put my Apple watch in its charging space for the night, curiosity got the best of me and I checked my exercise stats for the day. No wonder Steve and I were wiped out. I hoped my legs would be up to hiking up and over the hill between Manarola and Riomaggiore in the morning.

Side note: The next day my brother-in-law sent me this photo of me hiking up toward Volastra the day before. I think it gives a good perspective as to our uphill stair climb.