Maremma

I just returned from another outdoor adventure. This time we headed south to the coast of Southern Tuscany, to Maremma. I had heard great things about it from many people including my conversation partner, who lives down there.

We tried to hop on a train that was leaving at 10:30, but because of the previous night's festivities, we barely missed it. We waited an additional 45 minutes and then caught the next one. We had to transfer at Pisa Centrale, so we got off and started searching for the next train. After much debate, we hopped one of the two trains heading down to Grossetto. We knew we were on the wrong one as soon as we sat down because there were assigned seats and it was way too nice. But it was empty and it was heading to the same place that our tickets said, so we stayed on. About halfway through, the ticket checker came and explained to us that we had chosen the wrong train. I told him we'd get off at the next stop, and luckily we didn't get fined. So we got off in some small town, caught another train, and finally made it to Orbotello sometime around 4 or 5. From Orbotello we took a bus onto the island of Monte Argentario and got off at Porto San Stefano. This was way larger than we had expected, with a large harbor and a big business district. What's worse was that the coast was lined with beautiful houses as far as we could see. It was like trying to camp on Mercer Island. Plus it was getting late. We knew it was going to be difficult.

The first thing we did was get to the water and just walk along the coast. We got out of town and began following narrow roads as far as we could. We finally found a little trail that led to some woods, and we thought that we had finally broken free. But the celebration was too soon. That trail led back to a road that just led to more houses. This area was definitely for the affluent, and there were some amazing houses and villas with gorgeous views of the ocean. We got on a road that was surely the main coastal route, and we moved forward, hoping to eventually reach wilderness. However, as we continued on, though the terrain was absolutely beautiful and ideal for camping, everywhere we looked was fenced off with a private property sign. Around 6 p.m., as the sun was about to call it a day, we decided that it was time to seriously think about stopping at a place to camp.

Our resting place for the night would be a private olive grove that was appealing only because of its gate that was so easy to crawl under. We threw our bags over, crawled under, and scampered for cover like a pack of soldiers. We couldn't see any houses on the hill above, but after climbing up a steep rock face to catch the tail end of the sunset, we noticed that there was indeed a house right above us that could see everything. In fact, there were people outside, people who were perhaps watching us. It wasn't too comforting, but I was too occupied with another incredible sunset. I looked over the ocean as the sun descended behind an island in the distance that I thought was Elba (later I found out it wasn't). That sparked a sharp nostalgia that I know will be hitting me frequently over the next few months. It took me back to that amazing ride through the sunset outside of Innamorata, to the way the sky and sea were a sharp magenta and I was closer to heaven than I would ever get. I was certain that there was a similar scene unfolding right then and there on that island as I watched...but now I was so far away from it and could only watch it from a distance.

With the cover of dusk, we trampled down the face and back to our rocky sleeping spot. I wasn't so nervous about the proprietors anymore because it was getting late, and if they were going to take action, they would have already done so. I didn't sleep too well that night, but we woke up early and left the olive grove quickly.

We continued hiking the road for a couple hours. It ended up looping back to San Stefano, but there was a steep hiking trail that led up to an old tower perched on top of a large hill. When we got up there, we noticed there was a small open door about 30 feet up the old tower. Furthermore, there was an old ladder sitting at the base. We set it up, decided that the ladder was way too old and unstable, and gave up. But as we walked away, we all realized how much we wanted to get inside the tower. We threw around ideas for at least 2o minutes, searched the area for other props or tools, and finally came up with another idea. Using our belts, we added more support to the ladder, and then John climbed up and peaked inside the door. Unfortunately, after all of our efforts, we found that there was an iron padlocked gate inside. But at least we knew and wouldn't be haunted forever.

We got back to San Stefano and then took a bus to the other town on the island, Porto Ercole. This one was more designed for our taste, with few houses and many hills that held old Spanish forts. We did a little bit of hiking, admired the beautiful views, and then hiked back into town. It was afternoon by now, so after grabbing a beer, we took the bus back to the train station and made it back to Florence.

And so another weekend journey came to an end. I absolutely love these camping excursions, and this year has really introduced me to the world of backpacking. I can't wait to do more when I get back home, because I know that there are so many great places pretty much in my backyard.