After conquering the Alps, we decided to head south and east to cycle the coastal route along Cinque Terra. We had initially planned to cycle in the Mountains of the Riviera… but after taking 4 days to do a bike ride our book claimed would take 2 days, we needed to take a slightly more direct path towards Florence in order to meet our friend Quang in time… and we also didn’t mind a temporary reprieve from climbing after several days in the Alps.
We caught the train from Cuneo to Fossano, Fossano to Savona, and Savona on to Sestri Levantri. It’s a bit of an adventure riding the rails with our bicis. Bicis are only allowed on the slower regional trains, which means you have to make several connections to get from point A to point B. Normally, you would look for the tightest possible connections to get there as quickly as possible. Not so with Mario and Luigi. They’re great on the open roads, but a bit difficult to maneuver in train stations, on and off of trains, up the stairs and down the stairs, from one platform to another. Bicis are also only allowed on one compartment in the train… and of course, that compartment is either the first… or the last. So, you do your best to guess which way the train is headed, flip a coin for first or last, and then race the full length of the platform through distracted pedestrian traffic with your ‘wide-load’ bicis when you guess wrong, hoping to then maneuver both your bici and your husband/wife onto the train before it departs. Eventually, we found ourselves in Sestri Levanti, a beach town in the Italian Riviera.
We decided that it would be a perfect night to camp. We’d been carrying around our tent, our sleeping bags, our sleeping pads – up and down the Alps – but had always found a good excuse to opt for a hotel instead of a camping site. We came close one night, but the campsite we saw was pretty sketchy, far from town, and generally unappealing. So we passed on that one. But now, tonight, time to put that equipment to use!
Our Lonely Planet suggested that one campsite in particular, though slightly further than the others, was the cleanest of the bunch… and so we set off on our bicis. We exited town, and seemed to be heading further and further away from the business district, towards Campeggio Formaggio. (Not its real name… but we could only remember that it began with an ‘f’... and 'camp cheese' seemed appropriate enough). Of course, it was up in the hills, and after a short but steep climb, we were there.
Our tent has seen some really stunningly beautiful campsites during this full moon. Campeggio Formaggio, well… let’s just say it was not one of them.
Our campsite hostess showed us to a scraggly patch of sideyard, covered with a hard scrabble surface, a bunch of yard junk, and a whole lot of cats. She ceremoniously removed the rope that was protecting the site and its pristine environs, and… voila… home for the night.
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| Our tent has camped in some beautiful places on the Full Moon... This was not one of them. (Look closely and you might be able to see 30 or 40 cats hiding in the picture). |
Truth be told: I didn’t really want to camp there… I would have much preferred a hotel, with a welcoming bed, our own hot shower, an array of neighborhood ristorantes to choose from, and a nice cappuccino in the morning… but I thought that Amy really wanted to try out the whole camping thing and save some money. I later learned that Amy was really secretly hoping that I was going to take one look at that alleged campsite and turn us around and opt for a hotel for the night. You see, friends… we learn useful things on the full moon to help us to a successful marriage: don’t try to guess what your person is thinking… or you end up camping in a junkyard… surrounded by cats.
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| Why this 'Reception Area' wasn't enough of a warning to us?... We shall never know. |
So, we set up the tent, and several of the local cats immediately tried to make it their home… some tried to get in, others went under. We were definitely under attack. (I *might* have made a few cat pancakes when I laid out my sleeping bag and stretched my aching limbs). Amy went off to shower… Let’s just say that Lonely Planet’s description of the campsite as ‘cleaner than most’ was either a bit of a stretch, or a bit out-of-date, or we really don’t want to see what the others look like. But hey, it's the first time they've steered us wrong in 6 months. As I set up our little home for the night, already less-than-thrilled... of course, one of our new, super-lightweight sleeping pads had a hole in it. This isn’t going well.
Okay… nothing a good meal can’t fix. Dave: ‘Signora, is it possible to eat here?’ Signora: ‘No, but food is only a 10-minute walk.’ Ten minutes later, and we were at one of the other campsites, which claimed to have a restaurant… This didn’t promise to be our best meal in Italy, but we were so hungry and tired, we were prepared to sacrifice the meal. Of course, it was closed. But they gave us directions to another very fine restaurant… another 20 minutes walk away… which was also closed. We stocked up on some snacks, and walked the rest of the way into town, where we had a lovely meal, and then called ourselves a taxi to take us the 4 or 5 kilometers back to Campeggio Formaggio.
And so, having experienced camping in Italy, we’ve decided that it’s all hotels from this point forward, with no guilt or regrets about money that will go un-saved. There are just so many beautiful places to stay in Italy – old castles, quaint villages, agriturismos – that it seems a real shame to spend a night in a junkyard doubling as a campsite. And there are so many amazing restaurants in which to each the most delicious meals – all of which seem to be several kilometers away from any of the campsites.
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| Poor Snorri! (our tent). Such a tough finale to his Full Moon experience... |
So, Quang, as you pack your bags to join us for a few weeks of cycling in Italia… you can please leave your tent and sleeping bag at home. You’ll find us in a hotel. And our camping equipment stored in a locker in the Florence train station.
Ciao, Bicis!
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