Maratea

Maratea is not one village but a series of settlements scattered between sea level and six hundred metres: the old town hanging off the mountain, the marina with its harbour, and the hamlets spread across the terraces. The road that links them is narrow, full of hairpins and always with the sea below, which makes it wonderful to drive and tiring to drive often.

A sea that is not the Ionian

Anyone arriving from the Ionian coast finds the exact opposite of what they left. No long beach and no pine woods: here there are coves, some of dark volcanic sand, many reachable only on foot by path or by boat. The bottom drops away at once and the water is clear. This is coast for a mask and a dinghy, not for rows of parasols.

The practical consequence is that days are organised differently: a cove in the morning, the old town in the afternoon, and the rest of the time moving between the two.

The Christ and the old town

Above everything stands Christ the Redeemer, twenty-one metres of white marble on Monte San Biagio, completed in 1965. It faces inland rather than out to sea, which surprises everyone and is explained by the basilica of San Biagio behind it, towards which it is turned. From up there you see the whole gulf of Policastro, from Campania to Calabria.

The old town below is a tangle of alleys and stairways with a great many churches: Maratea counts them by the dozen, and it is one of those places where the number has become part of the local identity.

Sleeping outdoors

Open-air sites are few and modest in size, almost always propped on the terraces above the coast and reached by roads that climb. Motorhome travellers should think carefully about manoeuvring and ring ahead: many access roads are tight and some entrances have length limits. In exchange, you sleep with the gulf in front of you.

The mountain ends up in the sea, and the road runs through the middle.

The Maratea coast road