Genoa still doesn’t get any love
Riding along the Ligurian coast was beautiful, despite the cool, moody weather
After a rest day, it was time to get back on the bike. I left Finale Ligure this morning, unsure where'd I'd stay tonight. I had to get to Genoa, but further would be ideal.
Thirty-one years ago, my friend, Darlene, and I arrived in Genoa after a long overnight train journey from southern Italy. The hostel check-in wasn't open until later in the afternoon, so we left our bags and set off to explore the city. We spent a short time walking around before we both agreed there wasn't much to see, so we went back to the hostel, grabbed our bags and hopped on a train to Nice.
Marcus wanted his picture taken along a great cycle path near the town of Cogoleto.
Genoa is a sprawling commercial hub, and home to Italy's second largest port, which opened 900 years ago. While Rome has the Colosseum. Florence its Duomo, and Venice its canals and gondolas, Genoa has shipping container cranes. The city does lay claim to the birthplace of Christopher Columbus, and also the place where focaccia bread originated.
Yesterday, I asked for some advice for cycling routes south of Genoa on a Facebook group for bicycle travelers. Without exception, the feedback was to avoid Genoa. The traffic is terrible. It will take you a long time to get through the city, they said.
I couldn’t avoid the city entirely, but Giovanni offered up a sensible idea. He suggested taking a train from the outskirts of the Genoa to a station on the eastern side of the city, to avoid the traffic.
One of the towns I passed through after leaving Genoa
He also said when you near Savona (about 20 km into my ride), I’ll be directed into a long tunnel for cars, but stay to the right and follow the road along the coast. Great advice. But I didn’t exactly know what “near Savona” meant.
I had already been through several short tunnels, and then about six kilometres from Savona, my bike computer directed me left into a tunnel that was 1.5 km long. I stopped at the entrance to turn my back light on and then entered the darkness. I hugged the side of the road and pedaled on. A few cars zoomed by. But it was when a transport truck barreled past me that I realized this was probably the tunnel Giovanni was talking about. I was a third of the way in, but I did a quick U-turn and got out of there and instead followed a road along the water.
The ride toward Genoa was surprisingly easy, so much that I didn’t even notice I had passed the town Giovanni had suggested to take the train. When I checked my map, I was closer to Genoa than I thought. I was resigned to go through the city despite the traffic hell that apparently was waiting for me.
At one point, the cars ahead of me came to a stop. When in Italy, do what the Italians do, I said to myself. I noticed that scooters routinely split the traffic. So, that's what I did for a short time. I rode down the middle of the road, cars on my right and ones on the left going the opposite direction.
While I had to pay attention navigating through the city, it wasn't as bad as I expected. It took about an hour and a half; the biggest challenge was finding a place to pee. And like I did 31 years ago, I left Genoa without staying. I felt good, so kept going to Rapallo, about 30km south of Genoa.
Near Rapallo
Despite the rain, the scenery was great when I got out of the city. Hillsides, covered in green and with houses clinging precariously to them, rose sharply from the ocean. I passed through colourful towns, including Sori, Recco, and Camogli. After a steep climb out of Camogli, I descended the other side of the mountain and coasted into the seaside town of Rapallo.