“You’ve done all this?” Gianluca asked once he’d gone around and greeted everyone in the group.
I smiled. “Massimo helped as well.”
“Where are we going?”
I’d planned a hike between two of the seaside villages in Cinque Terre: Riomaggiore to Manarola. There was a popular trail between them called The Way of Love that wound right along the coast. It had amazing views and wouldn’t be too much of a trek. We’d stop for lunch in Manarola and then spend the afternoon wine tasting.
Unfortunately, I was shite at planning and hadn’t thought to confirm that the trail was indeed open. Apparently during the massive storm a few weeks earlier, a good bit of the trail had become impassable. They’d closed the whole thing for repairs and the group of us were left at the entrance, facing the DO NOT ENTER sign and then turning to one another with awkward smiles.
“It’s no problem. Let’s take the trail through the national park,” Massimo said, pointing back toward the train station. “It’ll still take us to Manarola and it leads right through the mountains. It’s a bit harder and most people prefer the easy stroll along the lover’s trail, but we’re all young and fit. It should be fine. Plus, the views are second to none.”
I looked to Gianluca; after all, it was his day. He nodded and smiled. “I haven’t done that trail before. It’ll be fun.”
Oh how very, very wrong he was.
We started out on a lovely path, winding along old houses and blooming hydrangeas. We even stopped for a group photo or two with the sea at our back, but while the Via dell’Amore forked off and remained relatively flat, this trail was laid directly up the steepest part of the mountain. A quarter of the way up, I genuinely wondered whether scientists had missed this peak when deciding that Mt. Everest was the world’s tallest.
And then we hit the first set of stairs.
Yes, stairs. On a hike.
They’d been carved from the mountain and they stretched up as far as the eye could see, like some kind of sick analog StairMaster.
“It won’t be bad,” Gianluca promised, coming up behind me and pressing his hand to the small of my back. It was meant to be encouraging, his hand there, but in the end it was more of a nudge than anything else. I should have bowed out from the start. I’d worn Converse instead of proper tennies. I’d assumed we’d just be walking, y’know, on a flat surface, but by the time we’d made it up a hundred or so stairs, the backs of my heels were already rubbed raw.
Lovely.
Paolo and Matteo lead the group at the front, taking the stairs two or three at a time like they were part mountain goat. I had a feeling they were trying to impress Sofia, who was right behind them with Massimo and Kat. Gianluca, Taylor, and I made up the rear, and the longer we hiked, the more distance fell between the three groups. I couldn’t even see Paolo and Matteo anymore. Taylor and Gianluca were doing their best to hang back and wait for me, but I felt embarrassed and told them to go on.
They swore they didn’t mind hanging back with me as I rested, but I knew they were both wishing they didn’t have me as a dead weight. I’d always assumed I was pretty fit. I’d swum a ton since arriving in Vernazza and walked everywhere, but I’d yet to train my body for this.
We’d started early, when the sun was still hidden in the clouds, but not long into the hike, the sun made its appearance, scorching us from above and making the hike just that much harder.
I could hear the sizzle against the back of my neck and legs. Cicadas welcomed the heat, humming louder than ever in the short trees dotting the trail.
Halfway through the ascent, Gianluca, Taylor, and I reached a sort of plateau in the center of a shady tree grove. The group was sitting there in the shade, resting and drinking water. Paolo and Matteo had reclined back on their hands with their legs outstretched. It looked as if they’d been there ages, waiting for us to show up, and I reddened, embarrassed at how much longer I was taking than the rest of the group.
Fortunately, Sofia and Katerina looked near death as well.
“I think I’ll hang back with you guys for the next leg,” Sofia said, still trying to catch her breath.
I nodded and accepted the water bottle Taylor handed to me.
“Thanks.”
“You’re doing great,” he said, coming to take the seat beside me.
“Not quite what you had in mind visiting Vernazza, right?” My words were dotted with my measly attempts to catch my breath.
He narrowed his eyes, thinking over my question, and then he turned his full attention to me. “It’s actually really great. They have trails like this back in Seattle. It’s not quite as sunny, but the views are spectacular.”
“Oh? That sounds lovely. The sun is the part that’s getting to me, actually. It’s been so cool down in Vernazza, I didn’t realize it could get so hot up here in the mountains.”
He turned to dig into his backpack and pulled out a little red handkerchief. “Here, this bandanna has been wrapped around my water bottle. It’s ice cold and you can wrap it around your neck.”
I nearly sighed with relief when the chilled fabric hit my skin. I tied it around my neck and grinned.
“Thanks.”
“You look like a cowgirl,” he said with a funny little smile. It was then that I realized Taylor was flirting with me. Up until that point, I’d been smiling along, content to have a chat, but then I realized Taylor was looking at me the way blokes did when they fancied a girl: hopeful, swoony, a bit overeager.