Ditch the Baggage
When we first arrived in Riomaggiore, we were lugging over 100 pounds of bags. In our defense, Scott was packed for 2 weeks and I was packed for a month. Given the amount of time we were traveling, we’d actually packed fairly light.
We knew the area was hilly prior to arriving in Cinque Terre, however, from our brief visit before, we also knew it was a short distance from the train to the top of the village. From there we’d be able to catch a taxi to our Airbnb. When we exited the train, I soon saw an elevator. Thinking this would expedite the trip to the top of the village, we hopped on and were deposited several stories above. Our GPS then rerouted us and we found ourselves navigating steep, uneven stairs, through narrow alleys. The shortcut actually landed us on the wrong part of the village. The views were stunning, but we managed to turn a 10 min walk into 45 minutes of dragging our bags up and down staircases. Drenched in sweat, hearts pounding, we finally made it to the taxi pick up area. After a five minute taxi ride, we faced another set of stairs (151 steps to be exact) to reach our cottage. We finally dropped our bags, guzzled water, and collapsed.
For the next week, we would make that same trek each day, minus the taxi ride (we walked) and most importantly, minus our luggage. The walk, while challenging, was much easier without all the baggage.
I’ve spent the days since then evaluating what unnecessary baggage I’ve been carrying through life. Too much, I’m sure. Setting it down is a first step. Unpacking it is yet another story, and something I’m working on.
I’ve also thought a lot about how we build strength and endurance. The daily hike to town and back up to cottage was about a hour. Scott did the calculations based on the stairs, distance, and elevation we climbed and determined it was the equivalent of a 100 story building — the distance between our cottage and the village. We planned carefully when we went into town each day, making sure to get everything we needed in one trip. To get back to our cottage from the village, we climbed 751 stairs (probably constructed in 15BC) then had a 15 min walk on an inclined road, followed by another 150 stairs to our front door. As the days went on I got stronger and could make the climb without being out of breath. I eventually started timing myself and trying to set personal records. I became familiar with the path and knew how to best navigate it.
Now that Scott has returned home, I’ve moved into town so I wouldn’t be staying alone in a remote area. This meant hauling the bags back down the mountain. I sent as much as I could home with Scott, but I still have a duffle bag, small backpack, and a tote. I set off loaded up and headed down the 1000 steps. I eventually got tired and sat the largest bag down to rest. It had a mind of its own and started tumbling down the steps. It was out of my sight as it rounded a curve and I heard someone below scream. Apparently it’s alarming to have a random bag toppling down stairs toward you with no owner in sight. I eventually caught up to my bag and the woman laughed. I still have no idea how the bag stayed on the stairs and didn’t go careening into the sea. But I’ll take the win.
I’m now settled into to my cozy apartment in the marina just steps from the sea.
