A Sunset Boat Trip in the Cinque Terre

The day began with the scent of salt in the air and a pale lavender dawn spreading quietly over the Ligurian Sea. The harbor of Monterosso al Mare was just beginning to stir — fishermen in weathered caps tending to their boats, the clink of ropes against masts, and the soft murmur of waves pressing against the stone quay. Our boat, a modest but elegant wooden vessel with faded blue trim and a name long worn away by sun and salt, awaited us like an old friend.

We set out as the first blush of morning light kissed the jagged cliffs of the coastline. The Cinque Terre — five ancient villages seemingly clinging by sheer will to the dramatic cliffs — unfolded one by one like beads on a string. The water shimmered in shades of sapphire and aquamarine, so impossibly clear you could see the ripples of sand and clusters of sea urchins far below.

As we passed Vernazza, with its candy-colored houses stacked in cheerful defiance of gravity, the bell tower of Santa Margherita d’Antiochia rose against the blue vault of the sky. The village square, glimpsed from the boat, was beginning to fill with the bustle of market stalls, the warm scent of fresh focaccia and lemons drifting out to meet us on the breeze.

The boat rocked gently as we slowed near Corniglia, the only village perched high above the water, its terraces of ancient vines cascading down the hillside. Here, time felt suspended. You could almost imagine the voices of long-ago sailors and farmers echoing through the olive groves.

Riomaggiore came last, a tumble of crimson, ochre, and peach-colored houses, each a brushstroke in a living fresco. From the sea, the village seemed to glow in the afternoon light, its narrow alleys and tiny port hidden in a cleft of rock.

We anchored in a small cove accessible only by water, the cliffs rising steep and wild around us. The air was rich with the scent of rosemary and wild thyme, carried down from the scrubby hills. The water was warm, and diving in felt like slipping into liquid glass. Beneath the surface, the world was a quiet realm of darting fish and swaying seagrass.

As the sun began its slow descent, painting the cliffs in shades of gold and rose, we opened a bottle of crisp local white wine — Cinque Terre DOC, with the dry minerality of the land itself — and shared simple plates of anchovies in lemon, ripe tomatoes, and briny olives. Laughter mingled with the sound of the sea.

Evening fell softly, the villages lighting up one by one like scattered lanterns in the dusk. It felt like a place outside of time, where the sea and stone spoke languages older than memory, and where, for a few precious hours, we were part of it.

The Cinque Terre is a stunning stretch of five colorful fishing villages perched along the rugged Ligurian coastline in Italy.