Sorrento Peninsula

The Sorrento Peninsula juts into the Tyrrhenian Sea like a finger, its rugged beaches sprinkled with some of the most spectacular beaches in Europe, its bucolic interior shaped by the limestone of the Monti Lattari.

Of course, the Amalfi Coast on the southern shore is well known, but the rest of the Sorrento Peninsula is just as beautiful, less busy and without the inflated prices.

I only discovered this quite recently, despite being a regular visitor for 20 years.

From Sorrento, the slog up the mountain to Positano usually involves bumper-to-bumper traffic and the prospect of much more once you arrive.

But head south from the west and the experience is much more relaxed and enjoyable.
‘Torna a Surriento’, ‘Torna a Sorrento’, the beautiful old song you’ll hear everywhere.

Mario Lanza, Luciano Pavarotti and Andrea Bocelli have all sung about this citrus-scented southern Italian town, celebrated for millennia.

The Greeks founded the settlement of Surrentum, “the city of the Sirens,” around the 6th century BC, and it was along this northern stretch of the Sorrento Peninsula that these mythical creatures are said to have lured Odysseus.

The Romans built opulent villas and grand temples along its shore, while in the 18th and 19th centuries its mild, sunny, wintry climate inspired Ibsen, Byron, Wagner and Dickens to include it on their Grand Tour.

Sorrento is a beautiful place with a spectacular backdrop of cliffs facing Mount Vesuvius, overlooking the beautiful Bay of Naples. The old town center is laid out on a Roman grid of narrow streets, now lined with restaurants serving gnocchi alla sorrentina (a divine blend of tomato, mozzarella and basil) and shops selling lemon-themed souvenirs.

But away from the well-worn paths, there are little-explored corners – the vaulted and finely frescoed Sedile Dominova, for example, once a meeting place for the local aristocracy and now a businessmen’s club, where old men play cards while away the afternoons.

Then there are the orchards and traditional coat racks hiding behind wooden doorframes; the surprising medieval palaces along the narrow Via Pietà; the beautiful courtyard of Palazzo Correale decorated with old majolica tiles; artisan workshops producing the same wood inlay for which the town became famous in the 18th century.
When things get busy in summer, I find myself in Marina Grande, the original fishing port where the old pastel-colored houses and sleepy air give it a nostalgic charm.

Fishermen reshape their nets on the quayside and locals will rub shoulders with visitors over fritto misto at the waterside restaurants. It looks no different than when Sophia Loren and Vittorio de Sica filmed the movie in Sorrento in 1950.
Many come simply to soak up the sun (along with the odd trip to Capri, Herculaneum or Pompeii), while away the lazy days by the hotel pools or parked on a lounger on one of the colorful wooden piers above the water.
If Sorrento gets too much, the sleepy town of Vico Equense (once Roman Aequana), perched on a tufa plain along the coast, makes an interesting base. Beach huddles tend to head for the little pockets of sand tucked into the coves of Marina di Vico and Marina d’Aequa; walkers might tackle the old path to Positano, a scenic three- to four-hour trek over the mountains; the cultured hop on the Circumvesuviana train to trudge around the ancient ruins of Pompeii and Herculaneum.

Vico Equense has some gastronomic highlights too, with a remarkable number of traditional restaurants and artisans on the terraced hills above town, such as La Tradizione, a superb showpiece showcasing local ingredients just off the main road to Seiano.

There’s also Fernando de Gennaro cheese, which produces both the vergine, ovoid Provolone del Monaco and fior di latte, a cow’s milk mozzarella, and the small, steep-sided olive oil farm of Rosa Russo, which sells its extra-virgin L’Arcangelo to Eataly in New York.

Also here is the Abbazia di Crapolla winery, two hectares of vines planted around a 12th-century Benedictine warehouse 300 metres above the sea. Its Sireo is an exceptional blend of Fiano and Falanghina grapes that bursts with the taste of sun, sea and the fresh mountain air that sweeps from Monte Faito.
Nestled in the hills just below the ridge that divides Sorrento from the southern coastal plain is the village of Sant’Agata sui Due Golfi, named for its command of the gulfs of both Naples and Salerno.

Today it is a busy farming community famous as the home of Don Alfonso 1890, one of southern Italy’s great food institutions. In an area not short of a view or two, some of the most spectacular are to be had from the lookout of the Benedictine monastery, Il Deserto, which is nearby and inhabited by a closed order of rather crotchety nuns who expect a bit of something when you leave.

To the west and southwest of Sorrento lies a hilly hinterland – the jaw-dropping Massa Lubrense – and a wild and beautiful stretch of coast that developers, so far at least, have not left untouched. The Amalfi Coast must have been a bit like this before the crowds: small beaches and coves folded into rocky cliffs; hillside terraces planted with olive groves, citrus orchards and neat kitchen gardens; small hamlets with stone houses topped with bright geraniums and bougainvillea; skinny byways that climb above the sparkling, cobalt sea.

And all around, views, views and more views. It is said that Queen Joan II, who ruled Naples in the 15th century, chose a spot just off the road beyond Capo di Sorrento to bathe in the clear waters. Known locally as Bagni della Regina Giovanna, the deep cove is protected from the open sea and close to the ruins of a once-splendid Roman villa. It is still a lovely setting for a swim, especially if it is deserted, as it often is.

Massa Lubrense is home to hamlets and ancient watchtowers, a reminder of repeated invasions over the centuries, surrounded by citrus and olive groves. Nets are stretched between the trees from October onwards, when the swollen, ripe fruit begins to fall, then rolled and tied, suspended again, once the harvest is complete.

The village of Santa Maria Annunziata is worth a stop for its stunning views of Capri and a traditional meal at La Torre; Joachim Murat (King of Naples and Napoleon’s brother-in-law) is said to have directed the Battle of Capri, when the island was wrested from the English, from nearby Villa Rossi in 1808.

The winding roads of Sorrento

The area is crisscrossed by glorious walking paths from Termini to the tip of the Punta Campanella nature reserve, through olive groves, myrtle and Mediterranean scrub, before plunging steeply down to the sea, to the lighthouse and watchtower that was built on the site of a temple to the goddess Minerva.

From here, just five kilometres out to sea, Capri seems close enough to touch, and the only sounds are the pounding sea, the whip of the wind and the wailing cries of seagulls.

The road only reaches the shoreline of Marina del Cantone, a seaside extension of the sleepy village of Nerano, so to explore the lonely stretch of coast between here and Positano you’ll need to hire a boat.

A gentle slide east reveals wild fields, small rocky islands, pockets of shingle beach and yawning sea caves.

Beyond the island of Isca, once owned by the great Neapolitan playwright Eduardo de Filippo, is Crapolla Fiordo, a deep cut into the steep limestone cliffs of a beach wreck, an old chapel and some abandoned fishermen’s huts. It’s a dramatic setting for a swim, and as the only way to get there, short of a torso-shaking walkway, is by sea, it’s not unusual to do it to yourself.
The Marina del Cantone itself extends along a strip of pebble beach backed by cafes, bars and restaurants with fishing boats pulled up on the cliff.

Busy in July and August with loungers and colorful umbrellas, it’s popular with yachts from Positano and Capri who come ashore to eat spaghetti con le courgette at Lo Scoglio restaurant.

I stayed here in mid-October, just before the place closed up for winter. The sun was shining, the sea was warm enough to swim in, and the only souls on the beach were a couple of fishermen. After spending all these years exploring every inch of southern Italy, I felt like I’d stumbled upon a real discovery.