Amalfi Hike | Teen Ink

Amalfi Hike MAG

October 9, 2019
By phunt01 SILVER, Hartland, Wisconsin
phunt01 SILVER, Hartland, Wisconsin
6 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Sweat drips from every inch of my body, falling from my skin onto the rich soil of the mountainside. I reach for my water bottle, only half-full. I start to worry. With two miles until the top of the trek, and the descent to follow, I need to ration what little liquid I have left.

My dad leads the way for our group. His continuous words of encouragement hardly have any effect on my siblings and me. Every so often, through a break in the trees, we spot the Mediterranean Sea. Reflecting the sun like a mirror, it seems to be the only escape from the scorching Italian summer.

The canopy of trees overhead provides very little relief. Any shade that the leaves offer is voided by the humidity beneath the treetops. Every step is more painful than the last.

Trudging along, my legs scream at me to give in to the demand of the ascent. Shoving the thought to the far reaches of my mind, I fall into the mundane rhythm of left, right, left, right, left, right.

As we near the explorable limits of the cliffs, there are more opportunities to catch a glimpse of the picturesque scene laid out below. The small holes in the vegetation, however, can only be observed when vision strays from the narrow path.

From the back of the pack, my sister mumbles incoherently about how tired her legs are. Luckily, her complaints are short lived; we have reached the top of the trail. For the first time in hours, no trees or bushes obscured our vision off the edge of the cliffs.

The beauty of the scene simultaneously steals the breath of everyone in my family. Stunned, we say nothing – not even my
sister. We only stare at the landscape laid out below. It seems like blue stretches on forever. There is no clear definition of where the sea and sky meet.

Looking straight down, the town resembles a model set. I feel like if I reach out I can touch it, even from miles away. Small dots shuffle about in the square. The townsfolk resemble ants, traveling in every direction, appearing confused when observed from such great height.

My family and I exchange looks of content. We share the details that we each saw on our own. A beautiful boat in the distance. A private beach tucked away in a cove. A house built on the side of the cliffs below, appearing like it will topple into the sea.

The beauty grasps our attention far longer than intended. Letting out a heavy sigh, a feeling of peace consumes me. Perched high up on the Italian cliff, every woe washes away, leaving just me and the ocean sprawled out below.

My daze is broken by my father summoning me for our return trip down the mountain. Looking back, I take one last look at the wonder spread out in front of me. Sucking in one last breath of the ocean air, I plunge back into the treeline.



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