Tag Archives: Hiking

Preparations

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Friday 21 August 2026 – It’s been over a year since Jane and I undertook a long walk, and so we have to reacquire some of the key habits concomitant with basically seven weeks on the move, staying at a new place (mostly) every night. We’re not hard core enough to carry everything, so our bags will be transferred daily. The organisation which will, erm, organise this is, as with all our Camino activities, Walk The Camino, who we hope will do the same splendid job for us as they have done before.

The emphasis will therefore be on travelling (fairly) light (the heavier stuff can go in the baggage to be transferred). Of course, therefore, I have been undergoing the usual pre-trip mild angst around what photo gear to take. On our previous Caminos I used my phone as the principal camera and took a drone in case a decent aerial shot was possible. Much as I would like to take the Nikon with me for capturing the delights of Lisbon, Sintra, Porto and Coimbra, I don’t think that I’m prepared to take the extra weight, since taking the Nikon implies also taking a laptop for photo processing which I feel I would have to include in my day pack. After much mental to and fro, I’ve decided that I will tolerate having to lug the drone with me; this won’t be every day, since there are quite large swathes of the route where drone flying is restricted.

So, for the donkey work of routine photography I’ll take my little Sony and also a new acquisition in case there’s video footage to be captured – a DJI Osmo Pocket 4P. On paper, this is a very impressive piece of technology – a (relatively) large 1″ sensor, and two lenses which offer a very decent zoom range, the lack of which was my main complaint with its predecessor. It should be easy to get professional-quality stabilised video footage, but let’s see if my usual ham-fistedness gets in the way of achieving that, shall we?

Since I won’t have the laptop with me, I’ll update these pages via a tablet, which will also be the backup device, saving me having to carry a backup disk drive with me. A fair bit of photo gear as usual, then, as well as power banks, cables, adapters and card readers. Just so you know how much I suffer in creating these pages, you understand.

Light though we wish to travel, there is one thing that is non-negotiable.

I realise that Portugal is sufficiently civilised and Anglophile that Twinings finest Earl Grey might be available in the shops; but d’you really believe we’re prepared to take that risk?

We will come across a major (for us) unknown on our journey, which is the change to the previously straightforward process of getting into a European country, which, since April this year, has in theory been governed by the new Entry Exit System.  The only experience we’ve had was the debacle of arrival at Pisa airport where the Italian authorities, in an excess of common sense, decided to abandon attempts to use the EES terminals in the face of the vast queue winding out of the airport building and onto the tarmac. EES is one of the passive-aggressive ways the EU has introduced to punish the UK for Brexit and it has the potential to give rise to major queues for non-EU travellers. The situation is sufficiently marked that there is even a website about the queues, which appears to crowdsource information about wait times.

Portugal is one of the two EU countries which has embraced EES (the other being Sweden) and it has put in place support for travellers to use the official app to register their visit. Since we have been good citizens and passed over our details, we might thus expect the queuing at arrival to be lessened. It’s disappointing, therefore, to read that Lisbon airport is one of the worst for queues for non-EU arrivals.

To be fair to Lisbon, the site appears to say that the arrival queue at time of writing (24 hours before we travel) is 20 minutes.

We’re not starting our on our Caminho immediately – we have a couple of days in Lisbon followed by a couple of days in Sintra (a place I’ve never visited before) to play tourist before we start playing pilgrim. Once we’re under way, though, I suspect the schedule of the days will fall into a familiar pattern: start walking as early as is reasonable and consistent with having some form of breakfast; late lunch shortly after arrival at the day’s destination; exploration of it after lunch; then writing the day up (me) and preparing for the morrow (Jane).  There will doubtless be Things To See as we go, and Jane does a great job of picking out the best ones so that we actually visit some places of interest rather than just peregrinating grimly past them. As well as Google, we have extra resources,

and so we’re expecting a good variety of places to visit and possibly get a selo – a stamp for our pilgrim passports – as we pass (we want to make sure we qualify for a Compostela for this Caminho to match the ones we have from the Francés and Finisterre Caminos).

Once we set out, in the main we’ll be staying one night at each destination. We’re not rushing, but will cover the 630km in 37 stages – average 17km per day. We will spend extra days in other places en route, notably Porto, as well as a couple of interim place where we get to do the laundry – these things are important, you know. I’m hoping there will be a good crop of photos and a selection of points of interest as we go, We head for Lisbon tomorrow – stay tuned if you’d like to follow the journey!

 

Homeward Bound – one final sight

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Saturday 20 June 2026 – As hinted at earlier, we had to get under way quite early in order to have any kind of chance of presenting ourselves for the 11.05 flight back to London in any kind of good order. An 0630 departure from Bonassola meant that we didn’t have the luxury of a hotel breakfast; we’d picked up their packed offering the evening before. I suppose their intentions were good, but I question the wisdom of including a hard-boiled egg. Trying to eat one of those without upsetting everyone within a 10-foot radius would be a non-starter, so we carefully took those out and left them behind.

As you might expect, Bonassola at 0620 was not busy.

It would have been dead quiet were it not for the bin men doing their thing. Our final ride in that dreadful bus got us to Pisa airport shortly before 9am, and we walked into a bustling terminal. In pre travel discussions among the group, given the possible, nay probable, disruption caused by the UK no longer being part of the EU, we had wondered whether this was leaving enough time to ensure we’d complete all the formalities. In the event, the timing worked out pretty well. We found the BA check-in area, which was closed but which opened pretty soon after we started queuing, so evidently BA thought that the standard 2-hour window was adequate.

Having checked in and been allocated seats that were almost hanging off the tailplane, we then set about getting through security. This looked like it could turn into the stumbling block we’d feared.

About half way along that mass of humanity were the gates that allowed one into the security area. However, it seemed that this was entirely normal for your average morning in Pisa airport; the staff seemed quite relaxed, and only had to call out one flight for urgent prioritisation. People took the queue in their stride, and we inched forward, eventually forming a line into security, and thence to the border. Those with EU passports could take the e-gates, and most of the Brits queued up for the old-fashioned “stamp your passport” desks. Jane and I actually tried the e-gates in case they were (a) quicker and/or (b) of the modern EES type, but they weren’t either of those things. Our passports let us through but were then stamped anyway. Our next trip is not for a couple of months and is to Portugal, which has adopted EES and thus will be a different travel experience; let’s hope they’ve sorted out any wrinkles before we get there.

I might have been in cramped seats in the penultimate row of the plane, but I had a window seat and accidentally looked out at just the right moment.

So I got a decent view of the famous Leaning Tower and the rest of the Piazza del Duomo, much better than the fleeting glimpse we caught as we travelled out to Bonassola the week before. Finally, an aerial view! We’d been to Pisa the previous year and I had got some early morning photos around the Piazza that I was pretty pleased with, but it’s a No-Fly area for drone photography (of course! grrrr!) so I missed out on an aerial shot then. This one is not ideal, but I was glad to have caught it.

The rest of the journey was uneventful and, to quote John Cleese, relatively crash-free, and we were home and lashing into a mug of Twinings finest Earl Grey by 2pm. Although our week had been hard work at times and I continued having difficulty with staircases for a few days after, it was a very fine trip – spectacular photography scenery and a lovely bunch of people, with whom I rather think we will keep in touch.

So: Cinque Terre, eh?

It was lovely to see the villages and to get such brilliant views, but it was hot, hard work.

Why is Day 1 always the bastard, eh? Eh?

The raw figures make the walking look easier than we found it. The temperatures didn’t help, and neither did the crowds on some walks. But particularly, the terrain was tricky in places – rough patches and quite large steps up and down among the rocks were commonplace. But it was absolutely worth going and I would recommend it as a short break for anyone.  As we toiled up and down the hills, I formulated some guidelines which might help others considering a visit.

Cinque Terre Rules

  1.  If you like walking, you’d better like quite tough walking – there are no easy routes. Walking poles recommended.
  2. If you are going to walk, then mid-April to mid-May, or last week in September/first week in October are good times to go.
  3. These are the best time to avoid the crowds in the villages as well.
  4. If you don’t want to walk, then an afternoon ferry ride along the villages is a great way to see them at their finest.

HF Holidays did a very fine job of presenting us with a well-organised, rewarding week and I would recommend it to anyone, particularly if walking is your thing.

Our next trip will involve rather a lot more walking, though I’m expecting it to be less arduous despite being much longer. Unless something spectacular happens, therefore, my next entry in these pages will be in late August and I’d be delighted if you were to join us on our next travels.

Day 6 – The Most Expensive G&T In The World?

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Friday 19 June 2026 – At yesterday’s briefing, we had been, as usual, presented with a choice between two walks. The main difference would be pace, with a well ‘ard group simply walking a little faster and doing a couple of extra kilometres before being set free to get some refreshment. I actually put my name down for that, because it didn’t seem, on the basis of the information to hand, to be too arduous, just slightly longer. However, on the day, given that the forecast was for temperatures in the 30s (yes! almost as hot as the UK where I write this one week later!) I chickened out and joined the shorter walk. Which turned out not to be shorter at all. Or even much slower. But it was still chickening out.

Anyhoo, for both groups the end point would be the same: the jewel of the Italian Riviera – Portofino.

Our start point was a place called Camogli, which would be a boarding point for a boat ride and which Tomaso said was-a nice-a place, so I expected another charming fishing village. Wrongly, as it turned out. Camogli is 38km as the crow flies from Bonassola, but as the bus drives it’s over double that distance and takes an hour and a half. The bus we were in was the same (horrible, noisy, cramped, uncomfortable) bus that had brought us in from the airport the previous weekend. And it dropped us in the middle, it seemed, of a city. Which is fair enough, what with Camogli being a city an’ all, just not what I’d expected. It didn’t seem like-a nice-a place at all, particularly since the bus had to drop us off some distance from where we had to board the boat. There seemed to be other tourist groups as well, as we trooped off to find our quay.

We passed a point where we could look further along the coast, and could actually make out the city of Genoa in the distance.

Then abruptly we turned right down some steps, and we could see why Tomaso liked the town.

There were lots of steps down through some typically Italian narrow streets, and some very fine trompe l’oeil on the buildings.

The harbour itself is very attractive,

and the structure of the town is unusual, as can be seen from a map.

You can see that  there is a peninsula jutting out from the mainland; originally this was an island (hence being called L’isola) reached by a bridge, and this was the original old town. We went for a look round, but only after having bought our lunch, at a focaccieria specifically recommended by Tomaso.

The main component of l’isola is a church, the Basilica di Santa Maria Assunta.

To get to it requires climbing steps which then gives one a decent view back over the harbour,

and, looking the other way, the town beach.

Outside the church is a lovely tiled description of L’isola

above a patterned courtyard.

The church itself is, once again, sumptuously appointed, with some gorgeous painted illustrations and decoration

and some colourful stained glass.

We had a few moments before our boat departed, so I wandered round taking some more photos of the harbour.

The rather colourful boat shown above is “U Dragun“, a symbol of Camogli, a hybrid sail- and rowing boat, known for its traditional design and used in historic re-enactments and festivals.

As we boarded our boat, we noted that someone, sadly, had lost their hat,

but there were lots of places that would have sold a replacement, so probably not a tragedy. Soon, we were off and could see the slightly surreal frontage of the city – all those uniform buildings with their uniform dark windows staring at the world.  Attractive, but slightly unsettling at the same time.

It was a short trip, just round the headland to a place called San Fruttuoso. The reason we were going by boat is that it can only be accessed on foot or by sea. It’s well-known for its abbey,

a Benedictine monastery dating back to the year 1000. It’s also a miniature beach resort, of course,

and, unusually, something of a centre for scuba diving. In the abbey is a statue called “Christ of the Abyss”.

which is a replica of a statue which has been placed in the waters of the bay in memory of Dario Gonzatti, the first Italian to use scuba gear in his dives, who tragically died near this spot in 1947. It’s at a depth of about 17 metres, and is garlanded with flowers every July by scuba divers in memoriam.

We had to walk around the back of the abbey to get to the start of our trail, and this gave us some more views of the village.

We passed an old lavatoio,

which would once have been where the public could wash their clothes, and walked between a restaurant and its terrace,

which looked like a wonderful place to have said “sod it, it’s too hot, let’s have lunch”, but we pressed on. The sea was a wonderful colour. It would have been a lovely lunchtime view on that terrace. Sigh.

It almost immediately became obvious that my hopes for a gentle uphill gradient for our walk were completely misplaced.

Bugger. That lunch-on-the-terrace idea was an increasingly attractive proposition at this point. But we soldiered on. To give you some idea of the climb, here’s a view of a Saracen watchtower taken early on.

And here’s the view of the same watchtower taken some 37 minutes later.

Between these two shots, this is the terrain we had to deal with.

We got a final view of San Fruttuoso

before – finally! – making it to our lunch spot,

where, amusingly, the well ‘ard set were still having lunch. We shooed them off so we could have ours, and then pressed on. The views continued to be lovely

but the trend, annoyingly, continued to be upwards,

albeit past some lovely views.

I see some cypresses have escaped from Tuscany

I discovered this boat is called Sea Cloud II, operated by Sea Cloud Cruises

The path levelled out a fraction and we came across, of all things, a lamppost! With a light bulb still in it!

Then there were more, and it became clear that we’d reached an outpost of civilisation, a small hamlet called Prato, where there was a water point.

Rebecca invited us to refill our water bottles, but we didn’t, because we still had plenty left. The general manic focus on water and hydration was a bit puzzling to Jane and me. We were enjoined to take litres and litres of the stuff with us, and each of us had a couple of water bottles in our backpacks; hers were 800ml and mine were 500. In all the walking in all the heat, we never needed to broach mine – I simply carried the same water up and down all the hills we’d covered. And yet we didn’t go thirsty at any point. Sure, the beers at the end of the walks were very welcome, but I found the dichotomy of what we were told we needed and what we actually drank a bit of a mystery.

Anyhow, the route to Portofino was all downhill from here, which at first seemed like a good idea,

leading us past a fantastic view of the town of Portofino,

but the path soon degenerated into steps.

Lots of the fuckers.

I had been perfectly all right going down steep slopes for the past few days, but for my right knee, these steps were the last straw. By the time I walked into Portofino, it was clear that All Was Not Well. I wasn’t crippled; walking straight and level was OK, but anything other needed care, concentration and, preferably a handrail. Didn’t stop me from joining the others at the Dolce & Gabbana bar for a glass (or, in my case, two) of something cold, though. We were joined there by the well ‘ard set, who were supposed to have done extra kilometrage out to the Portofino lighthouse and back, but it was too hot, poor dears.  Actually, in their defence, I think they took a longer route from the top down to Portofino which involved a more gentle descent – longer and hotter, maybe, but their knees were still working when they got down.

I was expecting Portofino to be (a) larger and (b) more impressive than it actually is. It’s by no means unattractive

but nothing outstandingly different from the sort of places we’d seen over the last days. It is, though, at the heart of the Italian Riviera and has a reputation of being very up-market. Well, anywhere that’s got a Dolce & Gabbana shop that doubles as a bar is likely to be on the posh side. So I was not particularly surprised to see the bar bill.

I had the gin and “Portofinese Gold” (perfectly nice beer in a very fancy bottle), and Jane had the spremuta – freshly squeezed OJ. Naif that I am, I don’t think I’ve ever paid over £20 for a G&T before. I’m not complaining, by the way – I knew it was going to be expensive. But I thought the prices worth commenting on, you understand. Actually the chap at the till was all over the place and initially wanted to charge me €90, but I’d only had a couple of drinks, so I was wise to his game.

We had to make a reasonably swift departure to catch the boat for a further short cruise round the Portofino headland. Out we went,

past the Splendido Hotel, which is a Belmond gaff, and thus thoroughly in line with the up-market values espoused by the Portofino set,

and the Portofino lighthouse that the well ‘ard set had so signally failed to get to.

The destination for our short ferry ride was the next town along the headland, Santa Margherita Ligure. It has the same slightly unsettling uniformity of architecture in the houses along the sea front, so it’s obviously A Thing in these parts.

It’s a very fine town,

with the usual crop of top-notch trompe l’oeil décor

but we had no time to stop and stare, as our bus was waiting for us so we could bump and grind our way back to Bonassola in time for a slightly delayed evening briefing and drinkies before dinner. Today was our last walk, and we had to return home on the morrow, so the briefing was kind of important in order that we understood the timings for the day. My knee being in the state it was, I was rather grateful that the hotel had a lift to get me to the fourth floor terrace for that…

Our official flight time home the next seemed quite reasonable, but because of the potential for cock-ups courtesy of the EES, we had to make an early start. The day turned out not to be entirely uneventful and I will detail it in the next post, which will be the valedictory entry for what has been an excellent, if quite sweaty, week.