The Amalfi Coast is this beautiful bit of Italy down south of Naples. And I mean really beautiful. Not just your run of the mill photo that you turn into a postcard kind of beautiful. No, more like the one they blow up really big and turn into an actual poster and hang in tourist offices and stuff, that kind of beautiful. So we were pretty excited to check it out, on account of the beauty and all.
One of the coolest ways to see the Amalfi Coast is by cruising up and down the highway on a little scooter. A Vespa, if possible, because those classic little scooters are about as Italian as it gets, right up there with thin pizzas and Aperol Spritz and using your hands when you talk to make sure everyone knows how strongly you feel about things.
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But if you can’t get your hands on a Vespa, then any old scooter will do because, really, it’s all about the scenery and the experience of cruising along those winding roads, really close to the edge of the cliffs and stuff, no straight spots and with the ocean always just THERE, you know, no matter which way you look. Even though you’re mostly looking straight ahead so you don’t hit any cars or trucks or whatnot.
The rental place near us said, sure, we can rent you a Vespa, come on by. So we did. But then he gave us an old Yamaha and didn’t really explain why, maybe because he didn’t speak English and we didn’t speak Italian so, all in all, it was a pretty short conversation, if I’m being honest. But we got our choice of helmets, at least, with lots of different sizes and styles. But always white. We noticed a lot of tourists riding scooters with white helmets after that and, like, NO locals, so maybe that’s how they tell us apart. In case you need to know what to expect or something, when it comes to shitty driving and all.
The next morning we left good and early, like 8:15, way before most Italians are doing much. Except the mozzarella guy from next door, he gets going at, like, 5 am. Going hard, too, no messing around. Steaming things, smoking things, moving things around, cheese probably, cleaning stuff up. He takes that shit seriously, that was obvious. But not many other people do much before 9 or so. Maybe because in April it was still pretty cold until then, like 10 or 11 degrees or something like that. So for our scootering we dressed warm, to be on the safe side, jackets and gloves and buffs, the whole nine yards, from a bundling up standpoint, anyway.
Good thing, too, because once we got moving it got real chilly, real fast. I’m sure all you motorbike types out there, like my parents and their old bike gang, are probably saying, yeah, of course, we could have told you that. But we never asked, eh, so I guess that’s on us. But we figured it out, anyway, so it’s all cool.
The first part of the drive we had to get all the way down to the coast from where were staying, in San Lazzaro, way up on the hill, where it was even colder and the views were cool but there weren’t any beaches or anything like that and even the seagulls didn’t really visit. Anyway, the road down was really cool with big time views and all, but lots of curves and hairpins and stuff like that, which made it a bit tricky, especially because we were a bit out of practice riding a scooter together.
Which usually means that I lean one way, into the curve, usually, and Laynni leans the other way, away from the curve, usually, because, you know, she doesn’t totally trust me and thinks I’m probably leaning too far. Farther than necessary, she often says. So we spend a lot of time discussing who is leaning where and how far and whatnot, and it can sometimes be hard to concentrate on the other parts.
Which, in Italy, is mostly dodging parked cars because they like to park all over the place, hardly ever in normal parking spots or anything, more like, right in corners or narrow spots that make it hard for other cars to pass. Luckily our scooter was really small, well, not really small for a scooter, kind of normal scooter sized, but a lot smaller than the cars, even though most of the cars are Fiats and not very big, either, or cool or anything, but practical, I guess. And way smaller than the trucks and buses, to be honest.
Then we got to the Amalfi highway, not sure if that is really what it’s called, but I think you get the picture. This was the best part, I’d say, because of the scenery, right? I think Laynni agreed because she kept poking me in the ribs, telling me to slow down so she could take a video of something or other, the view, mostly, but sometimes the side of my helmet, or sometimes just the pavement for a bit. Some of those videos might have been accidents but I wasn’t about to ask, I find it’s best not to interrupt the creative process. You know, unless I’m trying to make a joke about something, then it’s sometimes worth the risk.
Positano is the most famous town on the Amalfi Coast and we decided to drive right through it, like, right through the middle, no messing around, let’s get right in there, that kind of thing. I’m not gonna lie, it wasn’t fast, doing that, since it seemed like there were a lot of other people who also wanted to see Positano and just happened to be doing it at the same time as us. But we weren’t in any real hurry, the most important part was to see all the cool colourful buildings and fancy restaurants and posh shops and stuff. And if we could see all that while kind of recreating some of Laynni’s favourite “riding a scooter through Positano” TikToks then, hey, all the better. It was sort of like acting, just a bit more dangerous.
Once we were done with Positano, for the moment, I mean, we kept going all the way to the end of the coast. Actually, end of the peninsula, to be specific. Cuz there was a nice hike out there I wanted to do and it seemed like getting there by bus would be pretty confusing, maybe too confusing for me, since I only just recently got good at counting to ten in Italian and, to be honest, even then there’s a couple of those numbers that I’m still not the best at.
So we thought, hey, let’s drive there. Or, actually, I said, hey, let’s drive there. And Laynni said, seriously? Then asked a bunch more questions, like, what kind of hike is it? Is it hard? Do we have to climb to the top of a hill? Why do you always want to climb to the top of the hill? Never mind, it’s fine, let’s go do your stupid hike.
Which is how we ended up at the end of Punta Campanella, peeing behind an old stone wall in a bit of a hurry, trying our best to finish up before any other hikers caught up to us. Well, that old wall, it turns out, is part of an old lighthouse, too, which was kind of neat. Probably even neater in the dark if you’re captain of a ship trying not to crash, but we got the gist of it. Nice view of Capri, too. Capri’s an island just offshore. I mean, obviously it’s offshore, the point is, it’s not very far offshore.
Then we hiked way up this big hill. I gotta admit, Laynni was right about the hill part, it was pretty hard and, I suppose, predictable, if I’m being honest. But the views were even better up there. I mean, that’s almost always the case, which is why I like climbing hills, not because I like sweating or getting tired legs or stuff like that. Just for the better views and maybe, deep down, being up real high makes me feel taller or something, maybe it goes back to being short when I was a kid, I can’t say for sure. Either way, cool photos.
Especially this heart-shaped bay one. But you know what’s really cool? That bay is not really shaped like a heart. It just looks like that because of where we took the photo from, from this cliff edge with rocks in just the right spots and all to make it look like a heart even though in real life it’s just, like, sort of oval or whatever, completely open at the end like every other bay. But not every bay has a perfect spot like that, so all in all, I think the extra driving and the hiking and the big hill were all worth it. Laynni wasn’t so sure but it was a nice day and most days she’s pretty good at climbing hills so, overall, she seemed ok with it. Plus, I was kind of her ride.
On the way down we passed a bunch of people heading out all dressed up, like for a wedding or something. Then we saw a lizard trying to bite the tail off another lizard. I broke it up, of course. But what happens later, when that angry lizard comes tail-hunting again and I’m not there to stop him? Most days we try not to think about it.
Heading back toward Positano it was way warmer now. I even took my gloves off, mostly because my hands were getting hot, but also a bit because the helmets meant we couldn’t feel “the wind in our hair”, the thing old motorbikers always say they miss, and this way at least I could at least feel the wind blowing through my hand hair. It doesn’t feel quite the same, but it’s still pleasant, as long as you don’t let your expectations get too high or anything.
When we got to Positano, Laynni said, hey, let’s drive through again. Are you sure, I said. It’s going to be way busier now, I bet. Yeah, probably, but I don’t care, she said. Which isn’t easy to argue with, lemme tell you. So we rode through Positano again and, yeah, it WAS busier than before. A lot busier, let me tell you. So it took quite awhile. And at one point we got passed by a guy on a pedal bike. But that meant we had even more time to look around and enjoy the nice views and point at weird stuff, like the hats made up to look like a bunch of lemons, or the people eating ice cream like their life depended on it, or that cat.
When we finally made it back out of Positano I was pretty relieved, it felt good to be back on the open road, even if the road wasn’t really all that open, you know, because it was afternoon now and people were parked along the road for, like, literally, several kilometres from town. And we saw some of the people parking and getting out and, let me tell you, some of them did NOT look like the type of folks that would enjoy walking several kilometres at any time, let alone on a busy road on a hot afternoon.
I’m just glad we weren’t there to see their faces when they got to Positano and saw that they were also gonna have to climb down, like, hundreds of steps just to get to the beach and bar and the best ice cream places and all. Because I doubt that were going to be too happy about that, not too happy at all. And don’t even get me started on the climb back up later.
Driving back up the hill to our village, real slow on those tiny hairpin roads I talked about earlier, was quite a bit harder now because the hill was pretty steep and the scooter was pretty small and not so powerful, in the scheme of motorbikes and such, plus we had two people on it, not the biggest people in the world, but not the smallest, either, so the scooter definitely had to work a bit harder. Plus, in this direction, I spent a lot more time looking right at the side of the hill instead of enjoying the view and, for a while, we were stuck behind a truck that was burning a bunch of oil, it seemed, so it wasn’t all smooth sailing. We HAD been practicing our turns all day, though, so we were getting better at both leaning the same amount, not to mention at the same time. Which is pretty helpful, I find, but we usually just agree to disagree.
When we got back to the rental place the guy who rented us the scooter was already standing outside waiting for us. Which got me thinking that maybe he had a GPS tracker on it or something. Then I started thinking, what if he has a GPS tracker on ME? How messed up would that be. Cuz I had only met the guy once and we barely even shook hands, no long hugs or anything, and I couldn’t remember everything we did, of course, but I was pretty sure I didn’t sleep near him or leave my clothes while I showered or anything like that. So I’m, like, 95% sure the tracker was on the scooter, not me. Or maybe he just happened to be there because he works there, you never know.
Bottom line, that scooter trip was rad.
Other Routinely Nomadic posts you might like:
Best Things to Do on the Amalfi Coast
The Best Free Photo Spots in Rome
Where to Stay in Venice: Guide to all 6 Neighbourhoods
Alta Via 1: The Best Trek in the Dolomites
Our Northern Argentina Road Trip
The Sand and the Fury: The Day We Climbed Big Daddy Dune