Elba Island by Campervan

The camper is ready and loaded with all that is necessary, parked in front of the house and waiting for the alarm to ring to remind us of the imminent departure toward the Island of Elba. But it's Federico who "rings" before the alarm... shortly after 7:00 he calls us full of enthusiasm and eager to take part in this new journey: he jumps right up and certainly doesn't need to be asked twice to get out of bed. So the final preparations are in full swing, and, after a hearty breakfast, we leave the house around 8:30... a very brief stop at the pharmacy and then off toward Faenza and then toward the entrance of the A14 motorway. We travel paying attention to what the radio says about the traffic intensity: the queues, apparently, are not lacking and are scattered all over along the entire motorway network.

Fortunately there don't seem to be any obstacles along the route that will take us to our destination and the ribbon of asphalt slides away smoothly, thanks also to the good mood typical of the start of every journey. In Bologna we glimpse, on our right, the control tower and we can't help but recall the recent vacation spent in Formentera (exactly one year ago) that got its start right from the airport of Bologna. We tackle the Apennine stretch of the A1 and, almost immediately, bridges and tunnels begin for the delight of Federico who lets himself go into an endless series of questions. At a certain point we cross a viaduct that, who knows for what twist of fate, is called "del bue morto" ("of the dead ox"), while Sabrina, in the back seat, takes a nap.

In Florence we leave the motorway and take the Firenze-Pisa-Livorno dual carriageway (Fi-Pi-Li) and, given the now late hour, we have a snack after which, considering the lack of interesting things along the way, Federico asks to go in the back and to be able to sleep, Sabrina follows suit and so I'm left alone to grind out the remaining kilometers to reach the "finish line" of Piombino. We arrive around 13:00, after covering the final stretch of the A12 motorway, up to the Rosignano toll barrier, including a good half hour of queue to get out of it, as well as several kilometers along the Aurelia state road and the short coastal road to the well-known locality, boarding port for the Island of Elba. We didn't book ferries before departure, so we stop at the first ticket office we encounter along the road.

The shipping companies that cover the stretch of sea between Piombino and the Island of Elba are two: Moby Lines and Toremar, we choose the latter since it will allow us to set sail at 16:30, three hours before its competitor. With tickets in hand we head to the port, have lunch (finally!) and wait for the ship, trying to kill time first by strolling inside a small shopping mall and then along the pier that protects the docking berths. A strong wind is blowing, the sea is rough and the panorama, dotted with enormous smoking chimneys, is not the best: looking around it's hard to believe that less than an hour of sailing away one can find a place more beautiful and welcoming than the one we're in. Meanwhile we managed to kill time: it's almost time to board and Federico, now obsessively, calls for the arrival of the ferry, on which, thank God, we board almost right on time.

No sooner have we set our backpack down on some seats than the little one goes wild: first in a kids' play area, then wandering around the ship. The vessel sways, at the mercy of the waves, amusing him no end... "you can't stand up," he shouts staggering and then running up and down along the decks. Meanwhile we approach the Elba coast and at 17:35 we disembark at Portoferraio, capital of the Island of Elba, the third largest Italian island: 223 sq km., in practice just over 25 kilometers in length by just under 20 in width.

We immediately start looking for a beach where we can spend the few remaining hours of sunlight before dusk and we go down along a winding road to that famous one of Biodola, the most loved by VIPs, but it's a disappointment: narrow and jam-packed with vehicles parked wildly along the roadway, it's not for us, plus the rough sea contributes to creating an overall picture that is anything but inviting. We then go to the other side of the island, crossing it at its narrowest point (a true handful of kilometers): there we hope to find calm sea and almost total absence of wind. We reach the coast near Marina di Campo, find parking and go to the beach. There's no wind and the sea is calm, the sand isn't the best one could wish for but we make do, after all we just need some rest after the long journey.

Federico wants to take a dip and we oblige him, then we call home to let them know we've arrived and then we look around and realize we're alone: the beach is empty and the clock reads 20:00, maybe it's time to go back to the camper and have dinner. Later we treat ourselves to a walk around Marina di Campo: Federico wants a gelato... "I'll do everything myself!"... "I'll eat by myself!"... and he ends up getting dirty, dirtying Sabrina too, and the first day ends in "tragedy"... what a shame!

We choose to stay on the same side of the island, fearful of the rough sea, and so, after breakfast, we cover a handful of kilometers westward, climbing along a stretch of high coastline, up to the beach of Cavoli, nestled at the foot of two rocky promontories. The road that winds around it stays constantly at high elevation offering interesting panoramic views, while the one that descends to the bay is not passable with the camper. We park, then, at the edge of the asphalt ribbon, in a small recess, fold in the mirror that remains toward the center of the road and walk toward the beach. In front of us, in the distance, the outlines of Isola Piana and Montecristo are clearly visible.

The beach is quite crowded, despite it still being relatively early, both in terms of time and season, so we carve out our space with difficulty, set up the umbrella and beach towels and dedicate ourselves to the most classic of beach days. There's still a stormy feel in the air, the sea is calm but not too warm. Nonetheless we take a dip, which Federico asks us for repeatedly, and play with the sand, while time flies inexorably. The hands of the clock already read 13:00 and it's clearly lunchtime, so we climb back up to the camper and sit down at the table, but we don't stay there long and, soon enough, we set off to discover other places.

We leave the sea and head toward the interior of the island following the road that climbs toward Campo nell'Elba, we pass the tiny village and reach the entrance of the carriage road that leads to Monte Perone, and there we stop: a large sign judges, in huge letters, the road as "dangerous" and sets the maximum width of vehicles authorized to transit at two linear meters. We give up on continuing and stay as if waiting for something or someone to confirm the content of the sign, while in the distance we hear the noise of a completely "revved-up" engine. The "mechanical moan" gets closer and closer until we realize we had it first behind us and then beside us: it's none other than the most classic of "Ape" moto-vans, certainly not owned by a tourist and therefore by a local person. I ask him, shouting, how the road is, and he gives me ample gestures to go ahead.

I trust him, engage first gear and start climbing along very narrow, but not impossible, hairpin bends, until I reach the scenic Torre di San Giovanni, for centuries miraculously balanced on a rocky spur, dominating the bay of Campo below. The road, beyond the tower, continues still in a very steep climb up to the Monte Perone pass, situated at 529 meters above sea level... and it would be a fine uphill finish for a cycling race! We descend along the opposite side of the island and then toward the village of Poggio, after which we reach Marciana, starting point for the ascent to Monte Capanne, the highest peak of the Island of Elba: situated at 1018 meters of elevation. You get there by means of a cable car, and Federico's joy is more than justified since never, until now, had he taken one.

We begin to ascend amidst a large chestnut forest, then the trees become increasingly sparse, until they disappear completely at the arrival of the cable car station, located a few hundred meters from the summit. The panorama immediately appears breathtaking, as we climb along the steep path that leads to the top of the mountain, where there is, among other things, an enormous antenna that intrigues Federico more than anything else.

Finally at the top we can enjoy that extraordinary view and, thanks also to the particularly clear day, the world seems to be at our feet: you can see Pianosa, Montecristo and Capraia, small flakes of rock stuck in the intense blue of the sea, and, simultaneously, the Italian coast and the severe mountainous outline of Corsica! We would like to stay a while to contemplate the scene but Federico is uncontainable and doesn't stop for a moment, completely taken with jumping from one rock to another.

When we return to Marciana it's already late afternoon, we get into the camper and begin to descend toward the sea, not before, however, having filled a bottle of water at the so-called "fountain of Napoleon", the same fountain at which the emperor, in exile on the Island of Elba, often used to drink and which, it is said, had, then as today, curative properties, particularly as regards the urinary system. We finally reach Marciana Marina and treat ourselves to an hour of sea before the sun sets, then we have dinner and, later, we go for a stroll around the village, walking its narrow alleys and enjoying characteristic views. Only Federico doesn't seem to be having too much fun when, deprived of gelato as a consequence of the previous evening, he says he no longer knows what to do and just wants to go to bed, and in this last wish he is granted.

The alarm is set for 8:30 and, after breakfast, I go to do the shopping. On the way out of the supermarket a lady asks Federico if he's going to the beach, he promptly replies: "No, I'm going to the museum!", leaving her speechless, since she probably never would have expected such an answer. Indeed the little one is right: we are about to head to Portoferraio to visit "Villa dei Mulini", Napoleon's residence on Elba. We park near the port, in the area reserved for buses, and walk to the historic center of the Elba capital: from a tourism standpoint a bit neglected compared to other places on the island, it actually offers numerous interesting views. We climb up to the top of the small promontory on which the town is built and where "Villa dei Mulini" is located, Napoleon's residence during his exile on the island in 1814-15.

Inside are several relics recalling the great emperor, scattered throughout those "few" but elegant rooms that, to him, must have truly appeared like a prison, accustomed as he was to the grandeur and splendor of Versailles. The lovely gardens are a small oasis of peace and tranquility, a natural balcony overlooking from the top of the cliff, dominating the view of the sea below. Napoleon didn't stay long in this place, nor did we for that matter. The visit, in fact, is brief and so there's a bit of time left to go to the beach. We go back to the camper to get everything we need, verify that there are no unpleasant fines "stuck" on the windshield and off we go, on foot, toward the sea.

Just a few hundred meters, in fact, separate us from the so-called "Ghiaie" beach, made up entirely of large white stones that, as luck would have it, immediately become Federico's new favorite game, so much so that, several times, I have to warn him to be careful when throwing them. We enjoy the place for no more than a couple of hours, until, about to head back to base for lunch, the little one, not yet satisfied, insists on bringing with him a bucket full of those irresistible white stones, thus increasing the net load of the camper by at least two kilos. We set off again in the early afternoon in search of a beach along the coast west of Portoferraio. We travel the road that leads to Capo d'Enfola, where, not too long ago, there was a tuna fishery.

We would like to stop, along the way, at the beach of Capo Bianco, but it's not possible given the lack of parking, and we have no choice but to continue, in the hope that, moving away from Portoferraio, the bathers will decrease. Now in sight of the cape we finally find a spot, on the edge of the road, near a beach that however can't be seen and that, judging from our position, doesn't even seem to be in the immediate vicinity. We walk along a small road that descends toward the sea and that, further on, becomes a dusty and steep path. At the end of the long trek we are however rewarded and before our eyes appears the beautiful beach of Sansone, all white pebbles and delicious crystal-clear water. We inflate the air mattress (to Federico's delight) and treat ourselves to a long restorative swim, then we relax on the beach, comforted by the tranquility of the uncrowded place.

Later the gelato vendor arrives by boat from the sea and, being good gluttons, we take advantage of it, then the clouds also arrive... and they ruin the party! In haste we gather all our things and face the climb back to the camper, while a few drops begin to fall. When we are finally under cover it starts raining hard... what a shame, we would gladly have stayed longer on that beach. We descend toward Portoferraio and, given the hour, we take the opportunity to refuel and to book the return ferry: Moby Lines, Sunday July 16, 11:45, this will be the crossing that takes us back to the mainland at the end of the vacation. We stop in a parking lot, a few steps from the center of the Elba capital and have dinner with the radio on announcing the weather forecast: they claim it will rain tomorrow... let's hope it's not true and, superstitiously, we cross our fingers.

Later, we go out for a walk, but we don't stay long: a very strong wind is blowing and the sky threatens rain, we almost immediately retrace our steps and take refuge inside the camper to eat pistachios and play cards.

During the night it rained a great deal, and this, unfortunately, will revolutionize all our plans. At 8:00 it's still raining, but on the horizon there are wide gaps of blue sky that give good hope for the rest of the day. Thanks to the strong northwesterly wind by 9:00 the sun is already out, as we leave the parking lot of Portoferraio. We stop first to use the ATM (but it doesn't work), then at a large supermarket, and we take the opportunity to give Federico a backpack full of beach toys, which he will however only use at the departure of the next plane trip. We cover a few kilometers of road, toward the interior of the island, until we reach "Villa di San Martino", another place linked to Napoleon's presence on the island.

The building, immersed in greenery, is composed of two distinct parts: the older one was originally a rural house, given to Napoleon by his sister Pauline, which was renovated to make a country residence out of it, subsequently, thanks to Prince Demidoff, related to the Bonapartes, the eponymous gallery below was added in 1856, created to house the Napoleonic relics. The new construction, imitating the triumphal style of a small neoclassical temple, became nothing other than the main facade of the complex, which is accessed by walking along a long tree-lined avenue. The visit starts from the "small" apartment, all decorated with clear references to the Egyptian campaigns undertaken by the great commander, and the theme is picked up in the exhibition set up inside the gallery, complete with numerous artifacts and drawings of the era.

All of it proved interesting, and served, among other things, to give the sun time to raise the temperature again after the night's storm. It's already hot but the wind continues to blow and this forces us, once again, to choose the most sheltered side of the island. We move east following the road that climbs over the hills, ignoring, once again, the sign indicating the width limit for vehicles authorized to transit, and we arrive at the foot of the rocky spur on which the ruins of the Volterraio fortress stand. We intend to reach them and leave the camper in a small parking lot along the road, then we tackle the rather rugged path that climbs quickly and decisively to the summit. In less than half an hour we arrive at our destination and Federico, carried away by enthusiasm, almost seems disappointed that the climb is already over...

the same can't be said of Sabrina and perhaps not of yours truly either. We are however rewarded by the beautiful panorama to be enjoyed over the harbor of Portoferraio and over a good part of the island. The fortress also has a particular charm, amplified by the state of decay in which it lies, and dates back, in its oldest part, to the thirteenth century. The name, finally, Volterraio, probably derives from the Latin "vultures": vultures, which once circled over this height, at 394 meters above sea level. We tackle the descent and the little one, who had a great time, completes his feat: the entire hike without ever asking to be carried! We have lunch at the foot of the fortress, then we take the road again which from that point begins to descend toward the coast.

We head toward the northeastern part of Elba, the one richest in mineral deposits and, for this reason, exploited since ancient times. Along the way, between the towns of Rio Marina and Cavo, we encounter numerous remains of industrial archaeology, linked to the old mines now abandoned and disused due to the high extraction costs: the new business, less tiring and more profitable, for the islanders, is undoubtedly tourism. We arrive at Cavo, on the extreme northern tip of the island, where the beach, dominated by a large villa and protected from the northwesterly winds, is completely made up of pebbles rich in ferrous material and for this reason, in appearance, scattered with tiny and sparkling sequins. The water, for the same reason, however, doesn't seem particularly inviting, since the abundance of mineral makes it yellowish, with shades tending toward red.

There's no denying it, the place is peculiar, even if not very beautiful, and we stay there for the whole afternoon. In the evening we move to one of the most well-known localities of the island: Porto Azzurro, where there is, among other things, a camper parking area that will allow us to spend a peaceful night as well as, naturally, offering us the possibility to dump and refill water. After dinner, when we are finally ready to go out, it's just past 22:00. A strong wind is blowing and we head toward the charming historic center of Porto Azzurro, dotted with street vendors and characteristic little shops.

Federico however is tired, given also the feat of Volterraio, and asks to go to bed, so we return almost immediately to the camper and, while I try to open the door, a key falls and I manage to lose it within a few square meters: it's dark and the search yields no result, so I have no choice but to sympathize with Federico's intentions, waiting, for the key, for the light of the sun.

The wind has stopped blowing hard, but not much light filters through the windows, so I apprehensively lift the blackout blind while, unfortunately, before my eyes appears a sky almost completely covered by large gray clouds... it's not raining yet, but that's cold comfort. A bit listlessly we stay in bed longer than usual, until a lady, in charge of supervising the parking lot, knocks on the door asking what our intentions are regarding the stop: we tell her we intend to leave, and she replies that, according to regulations, we should have already paid another ticket, so she clearly urges us to "strike camp". I dress in haste, get out of the camper and, with the daylight, fortunately find the key lost the night before, then I start the camper and set off to stop, after a few hundred meters, in a parking lot along the road to have breakfast in peace.

All that's left is to try to fill the day with alternatives to the beach, since the weather conditions really don't seem to leave any way out. So we set off in search of the little lake of Terranera, a small depression in the ground located a few meters from the sea and originating where, once, there was a pyrite mine. The place is reached by traveling a narrow and rugged road that, in the last stretch, becomes unpaved to finally emerge, from the top of the cliff, above the lake, which stands out, thanks also to the yellow color of the water due to the presence of sulfur, between the green of the Mediterranean scrub and the red of the surrounding terrain. We get out of the camper just as a ray of sun manages to pierce the thick blanket of clouds, allowing us to snap a decent photo.

We stay a few minutes to enjoy the panorama then we retrace our steps and travel all the road back to Porto Azzurro, then we climb a narrow and short valley until we reach the foot of the Sanctuary of the Madonna di Monserrato, we park and walk to reach it, but the sky threatens rain and so we give up waiting for it to improve. We wait a while, it doesn't rain and we decide to go: the climb is hard, and with Federico on my shoulders it's even harder. Fortunately, upon reaching the last stretch, the steepest and most rugged one, he asks to get down and continue on his own. The small sanctuary, set in an environmental context of rare beauty and infinite peace and tranquility, was built in 1606 by the governor José Ponce de Leon as a crowning of the valley below, in a position that recalls its more famous namesake (Monastery of Monserrat), located near Barcelona, in Spain.

Federico has fun discovering every little detail of it and we almost struggle to keep up with him so as not to lose him. When, finally, he realizes he has seen all the little there was to see, he appears sorry to have finished the visit and would like to start all over again, but the sky threatens rain again and perhaps it's better to go. We have lunch and then descend to Porto Azzurro, this time to visit the "Piccola Miniera" (Little Mine), a sort of museum that offers the reconstruction of what were, until not many years ago, the mineral excavation tunnels. It's 13:45, and the "mine" will reopen its doors at 14:00. We wait and "finally" it starts to rain, indeed, it pours, so much so that we wait well past the opening time before getting out of the camper.

Shortly after 15:00 here we are aboard a tiny little train, departing for the visit of the tunnels, with Federico a bit scared but so proud that he tries to hide it. Along the route we are shown, with the aid of thorough reconstructions, all the phases of mineral extraction. We stay underground for no more than a quarter of an hour and then return to the light of the sun (if on this gloomy day one can speak of sunlight!). The little one has overcome all his fears, had fun and would like to do another round, but it's not possible, so we try to convince him by proposing another interesting visit: that of the "Acquario dell'Elba" (Elba Aquarium), which however is not in Porto Azzurro, but in Marina di Campo, a good half hour's drive away.

Along the way, all ups and downs, we notice a small low cloud that Federico says fell from the sky, and at this original statement we can't help but smile... after all, a bit of good humor doesn't hurt. The "Acquario dell'Elba" is one of the most complete Mediterranean aquariums in Europe: it hosts about 150 different species of marine organisms on a surface of about 1000 square meters, and in terms of size it's the second structure in Italy after the Genoa aquarium, plus inside there is also a small fauna museum that collects, stuffed, over 250 specimens of birds and mammals typical of the Island of Elba. The only problem seems to be the number of visitors who, given the day, is clearly above average, so much so that parking has become a problem.

We leave the camper inside an enclosure, probably private, complete with a gate that we hope not to find closed on our return, and head toward the ticket office. Once inside Federico asks to be able to see every tank and, naturally, we oblige him, we dedicate all the necessary time to him and don't neglect anything, inevitably bombarded by volleys of questions awaiting thorough answers. Once the visit is over we return to the camper which, in the meantime, has acted as a "decoy" and now the enclosure in which it is located is packed with cars. Fortunately we had positioned ourselves near the gate and so we can get out. It's now evening and we decide to return to Porto Azzurro for the night.

Along the way Federico gives the impression of falling asleep, but we stop to take a stroll on a rocky promontory and, immediately, he wakes up, then we arrive at the rest area, have dinner and shortly after 20:00 we are already strolling around the town center: the air is crisp and the sky, clear of clouds again, dotted with stars... we would so much like to spend a day at the beach and we wish we could do it already tomorrow. With this thought in mind we go to sleep.

Our wishes are granted and we wake up, finally, to a beautiful sun! Eager to spend the day in the best way, in no time at all we are ready to leave. We stop to do some shopping and then take an unpaved road, just below the town of Capoliveri, that leads to the beach of Zuccale. We leave the camper in a parking lot and descend along the staircase that reaches the inlet below. The place is beautiful and wild, the sand is reddish and the water crystal-clear, the very green Mediterranean scrub contrasts divinely with the warm colors of the surrounding rocks and with the clear blue of the sky, a shame only that there are a few too many people. By mid-morning a mischievous cloud goes and settles right in front of the sun's disk, depriving us for a good hour of the warm heat of its rays. So I go off with Federico for a stroll along the cliff and, together, we have fun climbing the rocks.

When we return the sun also returns and we take the opportunity to take a long swim. We stay on the beach until almost 13:30 and then climb back up to the camper to have lunch. Later we also climb back up the unpaved road and continue along the stretch of coast that develops south of Capoliveri and at the foot of Monte Calamita, until we reach the beach of Innamorata. The beach is located in the middle of a mining area and for this reason the sand is very dark, at times black, but the water is clear and inviting. We go and settle under a rock and we have to struggle quite a bit to convince Federico to take a nap that he doesn't want to take despite his evident need, but then, inevitably, he falls asleep. It's hot and the child occupies all the shade, so we seek refreshment in the sea.

The water is at the right temperature and the view is sublime: offshore one can glimpse Corsica and toward the beach a vertical wall of red rock rises on which prickly pears, enormous agaves and bushes of every kind grow, brushstrokes of green that seem the work of an artist. Higher up some seagulls wheel, carried by the updrafts, and time flies inexorably. When Federico wakes up we return among the waves, then we collect colored pebbles until evening. Now at dusk we travel the whole road in reverse and return, for the third consecutive evening, to Porto Azzurro, then we prepare to go out. We eat a good pizza at the pizzeria "Il sottoscala", run by Neapolitan immigrants, and end the evening strolling through the streets of the historic center and along the quays of the marina, Federico's favorite place, as it's an inexhaustible mine of question marks.

We wake up a little earlier than usual and, promptly, prepare to leave toward the beach of Fetovaia, which is almost at the opposite end of the island and, although on Elba the distances aren't astronomical, a good series of curves awaits us, so much so that it will take at least an hour to reach our destination. We travel, in practice, the whole island, from east to west, cross the town of Marina di Campo and climb toward the stretch of coast where the beach of Cavoli is located (an old acquaintance), continue beyond the latter and, after a few kilometers, on our left, here is the deep inlet of Fetovaia: very beautiful, indeed the most beautiful on the island. We busy ourselves looking for parking but it's impossible to find it near the beach, so we leave the camper at least a kilometer away then, on foot, we reach it.

We rent an umbrella and two sun loungers, to avoid the crush on the free beach, and settle ourselves in front of that splendid sea. I dedicate myself to building the most classic of sandcastles, but the sand proves rather inconsistent and the construction collapses before even being finished, plus Federico, who knows why, is in a bad mood and makes us lose patience to take a swim that he wouldn't want to take but that he wants to take at all costs (not bad as a contradiction!) The sky isn't clear and an ever greater quantity of clouds is gathering toward the interior of the island, then also along the coast, and in the late morning the sun comes and goes making the situation rather unpleasant. We decide, then, to go up to the camper to have lunch, with the hope that the afternoon will be better.

A vain hope, the afternoon is worse: we hardly ever see the sun and we stay sitting on the loungers without even undressing too much, while Federico takes a nap that we hope will at least clear his head. A message arrives on the phone from work: they tell me to stay where I am, since, in my absence, business is booming... I reply that it's fine, as long as they send me the money needed to continue the vacation. Meanwhile the "little pest" wakes up and seems to have cleared his head. What hasn't cleared, however, is the sky, and large gray clouds continue to dominate the horizon. While Sabrina dedicates herself to reading we "tough men" go to climb the cliffs of Fetovaia, then we throw some large stones into the water and, "defying danger", also take a pee among the rocks. Our display of strength did not, however, serve to intimidate the clouds which remained, undaunted, in their place.

Resigned, we return to the umbrella, then strike up a conversation with two gentlemen and end up staying on the beach until 19:00, and it's late, since we would like to spend the night in Marciana Marina and we would intend to get there, among other things, by traveling the entire western coast of the island. So we do and, after an infinity of curves, we arrive at our destination when the sun has practically set. After dinner we go for a stroll through the streets of the center and, to Federico's delight, in the square

On the morning of the last full day on the Island of Elba the sun is shining, but a strong mistral wind is blowing, which makes us pessimistic about the beach day we had planned. We get up anyway at an early hour, do the shopping and set off for Sant'Andrea, a locality situated on the north-eastern coast of the island, completely exposed to the wind that, incessantly, blows precisely from that direction. We drive along a steep, narrow and winding road that arrives at a tiny little square where it is impossible to park. One glance at the sea makes us give up wasting any more time looking for a suitable place to leave the camper: the waves crash violently on the small beach and on the rocks of Sant'Andrea, discouraging even the most die-hard and brave swimmers.

So we set off in search of a more sheltered place and, after yet another interminable series of bends, we arrive near Isola Paolina, right in the center of the gulf of Procchio, on the northern coast of the island. The small rock takes its name from Napoleon's sister, who used to sunbathe here completely naked and sheltered from prying eyes. Much has changed since then and today the beach facing the islet is normally packed with bathers; today in absolute terms, since today, Saturday 15 July, the beach is practically deserted, also battered by that annoying and freezing wind that seems to want to make any beach on the island unapproachable.

At this point, given the imminent end of the trip, the idea of returning a day early begins to take shape, but we don't want to leave anything untried and we decide to make one last attempt, crossing the island to reach the beach of Cavoli, in theory the most sheltered one. Naturally we weren't the only ones to have thought of it and so the small bay is literally stormed, and on top of that it doesn't turn out to be sufficiently sheltered: the umbrellas stay closed and everyone stays well covered and away from the water... useless to keep looking for a place that doesn't exist; better to set course for Portoferraio and therefore for boarding, thereby also meeting Federico's wishes, who at the mere idea of getting on the ferry lit up, waking as if by magic from the torpor into which he had fallen.

There's just one small detail to take into consideration: we already have a ticket, but for Sunday and not for Saturday, and as luck would have it for 11:45, the exact same crossing that is about to depart and that we will try to catch. We get in line, play dumb, and say nothing, hand over the ticket, they give it back to us and motion for us to get on the ferry, so, in no time at all, we find ourselves on board. The ship casts off from the pier then... backs up: could it be that they noticed us and someone was left on land with the right ticket in hand?... Impossible!... Indeed the pier is empty and it's just a loading door that absolutely refuses to close (I can already picture the last car that, because of us, didn't fit and so was left crumpled in the closing mechanism... but maybe my imagination is running too wild!).

The problem is solved and we set sail about a quarter of an hour late. The sea is rough but doesn't disturb the crossing too much, so I spend the whole time up and down the little stairs connecting the ship's decks, in constant pursuit of Federico, who seems to have fire under his backside and never stays seated for more than a minute between one excursion and another. We disembark at Piombino around 13:00 and, after a handful of kilometers, we stop in a parking lot to have lunch. In the afternoon we retrace the entire route of the outward journey and, near Empoli, it starts raining in torrents. On the A1, shortly before Rioveggio, we are stuck for a good half hour because of an accident and when we start moving again a timid sun peeps out again in the sky, but it doesn't stay there long and so we arrive in Forlì, around 19:00, under pouring rain.

There's no denying it, the adverse weather conditions negatively influenced the entire course of the trip (even though we had to give up the beach completely for only a single day) and, despite the fact that the most beautiful things for Federico were the tunnels of the A1, all of us can say we were favorably impressed by the beauties of the Island of Elba, so much so that we can easily count them among our best travel memories.