If you've read any of my other stories you should have gathered that I am a sort of risk enthusiast. Constantly figuring out different ways to put my life in jeopardy, but survive just so that I can write the story about it. I'd like to think that the reason for my diminished sense of fear is the compounding of awe inspiring, life-changing experiences, and not simply because I am actually coo-coo for cocoa puffs. I must admit that this experience that you are about to tag along with me on, really made me sit down and question my sanity and/or intelligence. My response to life is usually "Yes!", but this time the “Yes” should have been backed up with some more thought and actual planning.

Although I was vaguely familiar with the Amalfi Coast, I had never heard of the town of Positano until I was asked to go by a friend. There is a lot that I can tell you about my time in this beautiful town; the restaurants, the people, the opulence, but all of that has been documented to the saturation point. However, my experience walking with Gods and playing Dora the explorer in the hills of Positano, might be the sort of travel guide tale that you can only get here.

Armed with very little research, early in the morning we decide to hike the famed II Sentiero Degli Dei, "Path of the Gods", through Positano. We know that there are various starting points, but not being men that half-ass things, we insist on doing the full trail since it starts close to our villa. It then stretches through the town of Bomerano and ends in Nocelle. Charged up with ignorant excitement, in the light of the dawn, we run up an endless path of steps to start our journey. Over 300 steps later, we realize that we have only just reached the beginning of the trail. An unspoken “Shit!” is telepathically exchanged through half smiles. If this isn’t the very definition of the term foreshadowing…

A couple hours in, we are in full Dora the Explorer mode; Marveling at the views, taking pictures, exploring nature, and hiking at a pretty good pace. As the hours pass, and views disappear, the monotony of the trees, and vague version of a path starts to weigh on my mind. I think back on my brief research that stated that the overall hike was like 6 hours. I'm not a genius, but I have sense enough to realize that if we've been hiking for 4 hours, we've only been going uphill, and we aren't at the top of any peak.... that 6 hours is a grossly incorrect estimation. I will be writing a stern letter to the authors of that website/blog post/blurb under an image when I get back.

At this point we have scaled cliffs and trespassed through farms that are clearly private property. "Why?" you may ask... because there are no fucking signs (sorry for cursing, but I'm a bit frustrated). It's to the point that I've resorted to meditating to see which way “feels right” when we come up to a fork in the "path". This is essentially "Flip a coin" hiking. Path of the Gods? We don't knows who’s path we are on at this point because clearly the Gods need to download Waze. There are now angry dogs behind flimsy fences of the properties we are cutting through, seemingly communicating that we are a long way from Kansas.

Finally we reach a village marked by futbol pitch (A life lesson is that anywhere there’s a futbol pitch, there is civilization with kind people). Eventually, we run into a farmer to whom we pool together every bit of shitty Spanish, bad French, questionable English, horrendous Italian and BS sign language to try to figure out directions… In the end, An animated game of charades proves to be the grand communicator.

The quaint town with the futbol pitch... View from the road that we finally got directions to in the form of a liturgical dance

“It should be noted that we later learned they speak a unique dialect in that part of Italy that’s hard to understand by many other Italians. I had been doing pretty well with Italian up to this point so I was thoroughly confused why I wasn’t getting it.”

Another hour later (5 hours in), after tracking down a road the farmer led us to, we arrive at a place that can only be described as a emotional slap in the face. We have reached to the town of Bomerano.... The place where sane people actually START the hike! I mean this damn place has parking, seating areas, and most importantly, an actual damn path with signs! A regular freaking Shangri-La to us at this point! Mentally, I immediately label these tourist (that got this far by bus) as “lazy pussies that wont ever amount to shit” in order to keep my sanity. But here is the really crazy thing… turns out they know us. Huh!? I know right... By the time we arrived here, we had been spotted from the road a few times and we have become a sort of legends. We are the crazy-ass black guys (we're not hard to miss) that have taken on the challenge of walking the whole path by breaking every trespassing law in Italy. These people aren’t just simple pussies. No, they are like our loyal subjects, and we are like their Gods (if you think about it with a dehydrated and completely exhausted mindset). Now our almost broken egos have been mended so that we can push trough and live up to this new God status we’ve formed in our heads.

Official Start of "Path of the Gods (for Pussies)"

It would be another 3 grueling hours (9 hours into a supposed 6 hour hike) until we reach to Nocelle where the path ends. We ran out of food and water hours ago. The burn in our leg muscles is now on hell status. Actually, at this point, I’m not not quite sure I still have legs. The unloyal subjects have all disappeared, pussies, doubling back after their little strolls to get back on their pussy-mobiles. We traverse paths that are less that 2 feet wide; butt up agains rocks on one side and a 300 foot drop on the other. “If we slip, we die. How long will it be before people even find us. Maybe we should have told someone, anyone really, that we were going to be doing this.”- Is a repeat thought.

But now, after 9 hours of hiking, the rocky path slowly turns into a paved walkway. We are finally going mostly downhill and there it is… A cross made out of timbers and the start of actual stone steps. We are either saved or about to be sacrificed- either way our beautiful misery is almost over. Completely exhausted, famished and frankly just over it, we gather our last bit of energy and run to the town! I figure “We have to get to the coast. just go down, we'll reach the shore, they’ll be a boat”. Logical right?

After another 300 steps (I didn’t have the energy to count but I researched it later), we ended up at a sectioned off part of an abandoned dock. My joy to be at sea level is shrouded by a sense of "this shit ain't right"-ness. We look around… No! This is a narrow slit in the mountain. Cliffs on both sides of this dock with no beach access. Essentially Defeated, we literally crawl our way back up the 300 steps to get back to the main road. Turns out the path ends in Nocelle, but the boats are in Priano. The Gods obviously needed one more last laugh at our expense. A slow and cautious walk (asking directions from every person we see) take us through the town and we finally get to the coast.

As fate would have it, it’s freaking beautiful. There awaits an amazing restaurant clinging to the side of the cliffs with a heavenly breeze serving incredibly fresh seafood. We sit, look at each other and just laugh at the insanity of it all.

Now it was time to get back. Convenience was king, so we hire a boat to take us back to Positano. On the way back, the sun is setting, the weather is perfect and it is as if a divine plan is at play to bookend this remarkably trying day with beauty so that the whole experience would be held as a pleasing memory. And It working; We are in heaven!