Amalfi Walks (4)

High limestone hills and crags crowd the Amalfi coastline, and Amalfi itself clusters at the mouth of a deep gorge which penetrates the mountains to the north-east. I set off up this gorge for my final walk. See how the cultivated lemon groves have carved a harmonious niche among the native woodlands and limestone bluffs...

The sinuous path climbed from Chiarito on the outskirts of Amalfi to Pontone, swinging between lemon trees and overhanging limestone outcrops...

I paused for a moment to catch my breath, gazing back towards Amalfi...

... then pressed on towards the hillside village of Minuta. The views became even more spectacular...

Here I am looking down across vines at Ravello...

After Minuta, and another steep haul of steps, I broke away from human habitation and cultivated land, and entered a high, pristine landscape of rock and scrub, wild peonies, and deep-sided chasms cut by clear mountain streams...

All this may have been good for the soul - and it certainly was - but more pressing matters were bearing down on me, becoming ever more urgent with each passing rock and steep downward scramble. Yes, truth to tell, I was lost...

The free walking map I'd picked up at Amalfi's tourist office - though alluring and colourful - was simplified, not to scale, and inadequate for the task. But it was too late now. I was following the red and white splashes of a Club Alpino Italiano route, which contoured the limestone crags in roller-coaster fashion relentlessly downhill. Turning back would have meant a huge effort of will and physical strength, and - let's face it - an admission of defeat. I carried on, hanging in space, sometimes losing the path through overgrown patches of vegetation, then rejoining it with relief several hundred metres further on. To make matters worse, the weather was closing in...

Peregrine falcons screamed from the towering cliffs above. I stopped for a drink and to take in the view. I was quite alone. No one knew where I was. If I fatally slipped here, I might not be found for days. But the scenery was unbelievable. And I felt healthy. My limbs and muscles were in good shape. The physical exertion, the landscape's wildness and its craggy beauty, the vastness of the space below my feet, the moody, ever-changing weather - suddenly all these things came together in one brief flash of realisation: wow! It was great to be here. I was privileged. It was fantastic.

After edging my way beneath more sheer walls of limestone, and negotiating deep gorges gouged by feeder streams, I scrambled down a rocky chute and soon joined a wider, more well-used path. Moments later I heard voices. I party of cheery Italian walkers were eating their lunch on a table-top rock above me. I waved to them. They waved back. The temperature grew warmer, and the sun poked through the cloud...

From there it was a simple walk back to Amalfi. It had been such a day to remember...

Amalfi Walks (3)

Although the walk from Amalfi to Atrani only takes about 15 or 20 minutes...

... its brevity does not belie its beauty...

Here are some mules (or are they donkeys? - anyone know the difference?) carrying earth in... what? I nearly wrote 'panniers', but I think panniers hang down from each side...

After crossing Amalfi's southern headland, I entered Atrani via a secret network of backstreet steps and passageways...

... and enjoyed a beer and a sandwich in Atrani's little square. This is a view of one corner of the square...



As you can see, Atrani nestles beneath a huge limestone cliff...

Amalfi Walks (2)

'... and what is the use of a book', thought Alice, 'without pictures or conversations?' LEWIS CARROLL Alice's Adventures In Wonderland

The Valle dei Mulini is an ever-narrowing ravine which, if you followed it far enough, would take you into open mountain country, and eventually to the top of Monte Cerrato (4314 ft), the highest peak dominating Amalfi. It's lush and it's beautiful, and I walked the valley path one hot, sunny morning as far as a high waterfall. At first you pass the ruins of long-abandoned paper mills...

Paper making was once an important industry here, and Amalfi paper was considered some of the finest in Europe. Only a couple of factories now remain. On the way I passed the intriguing-sounding Paper Museum - which made me think of other quirky and odd museums I'd either heard about or visited in Britain, such as the Pencil Museum in Keswick or the Dog Collar Museum in Leeds Castle (which, for all non-UK readers, is not in Leeds but near Maidstone in Kent!) But I digress (yet what is the use of walking and writing without digressions? Without digressions, a walk would be in danger of being simply a practical route from A to B, and a book simply a logical sequence of events or instructions). Which reminds me of Lewis Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Laurence Sterne's Tristram Shandy - novels which are pure diversion and divagation through and through. But I digress again...

So back to the plot. I shadowed the tumbling stream up-valley, then crossed it by this wooden bridge...

After a short, sharp climb and a few rocky scrambles I came to a waterfall - it must have been about 100 ft high - cascading down a tree-strewn cliff. It was so lovely, and so unexpected, that I had to catch my breath. I stood a while before this lacy curtain of splashing water, transfixed and transported. I approached it as near as I could without getting drenched. At its base, behind the final fringe of water before it hit a hollowed-out pool, was a mossy grotto, green and damp - no doubt the home of naiads or other water nymphs. Yes, this was one of those special places, those numinous places, those indescribable places (which nevertheless I've tried to describe both here and here).

I stayed there for what could have been moments - or was it an an eternity? Who can tell? This magical spot had carved a niche in my mind that I knew would be there for ever. That day I had the place to myself. In fact I'd seen only two other walkers all morning. Reluctantly I wrenched myself away. I followed part of a ferny gorge - the gorge that had amazed Goethe and other writers, artists, botanists and geologists when they'd discovered it many years ago - and returned to the wooden bridge and the main route...



Meandering back to Amalfi on a different path on the other side of the valley, I thought, not for the first time, how 'the most soulful places are almost always reached only on foot'...



The more effort you have to make, the more exposed you are to the influences of Nature, then the greater the likelihood of being aware of its beauty. What this implies is that the greater the self-sufficiency and the fewer the barriers imposed by equipment and man-made features, the greater the potential for heightened awareness. Being alone can further increase this awareness. These factors all point to the value of simplicity rather than complexity as an approach to life. COLIN MORTLOCK Beyond Adventure

Amalfi Walks (1)

After Naples, and before returning to England, we stayed several nights in Amalfi. The Amalfi coast is stunning walking territory. This is the view back along the Valle dei Mulini (Valley of the Mills) towards Amalfi and the Tyrrhenian Sea ...

The landscape was luscious with vineyards and lemon orchards. A stepped, steeply-ascending path led through the hamlets of Chiarito and Pontone, which sweltered in the hot sunshine. After some brief road walking I joined another, more obscure path, which curved round the base of the limestone bluff upon which the elegantly fashionable village of Ravello is built. I climbed to this strange shelter wedged in the lee of the cliff ...

Unseen creatures scuttled in the undergrowth, and black snakes - possibly western whip snakes - shot across the path. This is looking across to the village of Scala ...

A final push up yet more steps and I emerged in Ravello near the monastery of Santa Chiara. I'd met not a single person on my walk. Most visitors to Ravello take the sweaty, jam-packed bus on a circuitous route up the ridge. I know which way I prefer. Here's the view from Ravello's Villa Rufolo, a shot no doubt duplicated by a million other photographers ...



And this is looking out to sea from the belvedere at the Villa Cimbrone, the end point of Ravello's ridge ...