Day 33 – Mattarana to Recco

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I woke at 7:30, showered, and went down for breakfast. Rooms are not numbered; they have a painted wild flower on the door, and on the key fob; similarly, each table in the dining room has a little picture of a wild flower – you match yours to the table. Quite sweet, really. I’m a Ranunculus… Dinner last night was fantastic. Leek and vegetable soup, gently herbed, grilled salmon fillet and salad, yum, and a cheesecake slice with a tart berry jus. Special. Which breakfast wasn’t. Cornflakes, no yogurt, a couple of cakes and croissants. One of the cakes was, I thought, pear; it turned out to be potato – savoury, not sweet. There were also pizza slices – all tomato and meat though. I got thru two bowls of cornflakes, two croissants, a couple of biscuits and a slice of cherry cake. Worth a 3.

Another sunny morning; fluffy clouds dotted the sky, but mostly clear blue skies. I packed up, and headed off. Still climbing, but gently. After 10 km I reached the top –

pass

And then downhill. Riding the brakes all the while – fantastic views of beaches to the left, and the mountains to the right. I stopped and chatted to an Irish bloke coming uphill towards me – four panniers, a handlebar bag, and a pack on the rear rack, between the panniers. He was out of Genoa, heading for Rome; a ten day trip. He said he’d probably over packed…. I reckon.

twn

I hit the coast at Sestri Levante, and just ambled along – I never intended to reach Genoa, so was just cruising. I passed through village after village, all with massive apartment buildings and hotels along the sea front (and crappy beaches they are, too, TBH) Down into a bay, along the main drag, ten a steep climb up and over the next headland; repeat. I did this several times; hard yacka in the sun.

At Rapallo I stopped for a while; only 1:00 pm, so after a look around and a beer

botd

I carried on. A pretty place, but geared for tourists/package holiday makers. From Rapallo the road climbed way up high, and stayed there, running along a ridge. If you wanted to see the little coast villages, you had to take a minor road in. They looked bloody steep – I bet there are inbred generations of villagers in each place who have never ventured out of their little bay.

Into Recco. Tiny. Not much touristy stuff either – no beach, just a tiny port. Found a hotel with a restaurant, and booked in; I’ll eat here, crash, and amble on tomorrow, doing the last 20 km to Genoa.

Then; dunno yet, but probably a ferry to Barcelona.

See you down the road.

 

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