The Search for Change
In Milan, in 2011, coming out of a work experience in a multinational company, I felt the need to change, to rediscover a place where movement was natural, where the mind could reorganize itself while the body found new energy. So I decided to leave for a journey of personal exploration, without rigid plans or predefined destinations. I only wanted to follow the line of the sea, let myself be guided by the wind, and understand whether somewhere I might find a way of living more consistent with what I felt, more truly my own.
Browsing the internet, I discovered a stretch of Ligurian coastline where the old railway had been transformed into a long pedestrian and cycling route, immersed in the landscape and in the scent of salt. It was not just a path, but a connective route between nature, memory, and well-being. The idea fascinated me: moving in a sustainable way, breathing sea air, passing through towns and repurposed stations. And so I arrived here, in this portion of the western Riviera where Cycling Riviera follows the clear profile of the sea for nearly thirty kilometers.
The Route Between Past and Horizon
Walking or cycling along the route, one senses that its origins are ancient and that it carries with it a legacy of journeys and stories. It was in fact built as a railway in the mid-nineteenth century, an engineering achievement designed to connect Genoa and Ventimiglia. Over time, however, the growth of traffic made it necessary to move the line inland, leaving the old coastal route free. What had once been an industrial infrastructure was thus transformed into a green corridor of gentle mobility, restoring to the landscape its human rhythm.
Today, the Cycle and Pedestrian Path of the Coastal Park of the Riviera dei Fiori follows the sea like a silent, continuous ribbon. The old tunnels, carefully restored, preserve their historic atmosphere, while rest areas offer orderly, shaded, and welcoming spaces. Every detail is designed for the safety and comfort of those who walk or cycle. Along the route, the towns it passes through seem to breathe a renewed energy, and tourism takes on a more respectful face, connected to slower rhythms and the pleasure of discovery.
In Tune with the Human Landscape
When the route was inaugurated in 2001, it extended for twenty-one kilometers, from San Lorenzo al Mare to Sanremo. Then, in 2014, it was extended to Ospedaletti Ligure, bringing the total to twenty-four kilometers. I traveled it starting right from there, heading toward Genoa, following the sea for an hour and twenty minutes of easy riding. In 2023, with the further extension to Porto Maurizio in Imperia, the overall length reached nearly thirty kilometers of pure freedom, suspended between land and sea.
Along the way, I found small stations transformed into cafés, refreshment points, and bicycle rental services. Each municipality offers a different kind of hospitality: hotels, farm stays, and bed & breakfasts, each with its own thematic vocation. Some facilities are dedicated to cycle tourism, others to wellness or local gastronomy. What they all share is a sense of care and hospitality, the ability to make the traveler feel part of a simple and harmonious system, where every service is designed with measure.
The Body in Balance with Nature
What struck me most, from the very first days, was the climate. This portion of the western Riviera enjoys a rare balance: the sea provides warm air and light, while the hills behind protect it from the colder winds coming from the mountain systems that rise just inland. The atmosphere is ideal for outdoor living in every season, and the absolute ban on motorized traffic helps preserve its quiet. Here one can walk in silence, listen only to natural sounds, and perceive a deep calm.
I soon learned to alternate walks and light runs, discovering that this route naturally invites movement. The two lanes, one for pedestrians and one for cyclists, offer space, safety, and freedom. Rest areas become small natural gyms, perfect for breathing exercises, stretching, and muscle strengthening. Every stretch of the path seemed designed to encourage bodily awareness and direct contact with the environment, in a balance between energy and relaxation.
The Rhythm of the Inner Journey
Those who prefer other forms of mobility can also experience their freedom here: I met many people on skates, with segways, rickshaws, or handbikes. Everyone can find their own rhythm and way of moving forward. It is beautiful to see families and individual athletes sharing the same space with mutual respect. For me, cycling in these places soon became a natural gesture, halfway between a hobby and meditation. The bicycle, more than a means of transport, is a way of being in the world: a constant dialogue between concentration, pleasure, and observation.
I took note of travel times, distances, and stops, as if keeping a diary of movement. The milestone markers help measure the route and the relationship between energy expended and distances covered. I began to take better care of my diet, adapting it to the rhythm of physical activity. And, immersed as one is in Mediterranean vegetation, it comes naturally to rediscover the quality of local products: vegetables, olive oil, fresh fish, and fragrant bread as elements of a healthy, simple, and complete diet.
The Measure of Rediscovered Time
As the days passed, I sensed that the transformation was also inner: while the body adapted to a new rhythm, the mind learned to remain in the present. Every stretch of coastline, every tunnel and glimpse of sea seems to respond to a need for order and for rediscovering a linear, essential vision. This place gave back to me the sense of what I had been searching for: a space where movement is not escape, but return to the self. Living here means letting oneself be guided by nature, which becomes a teacher of balance, measure, and presence.
When I stop to observe the sunset over the sea in Ospedaletti, with the sun lingering past nine in the evening during June, I have the feeling that the day never truly ends. Light reflects on the water, the sky slowly fades, and everything around grows quiet. In those moments, I understand that my search was not toward an elsewhere, but toward a condition of harmony. Perhaps, without knowing it, I had always been looking for a place like this, capable of restoring my sense of time.
When the sun sets over the western Riviera and the light spreads like velvet across the water, everything seems suspended in an expanded time. My steps, my pedaling, even my breathing merge with the slow rhythm of the coast, as if the entire world had stopped to observe. That silence, among golden reflections and the long shadows of the tunnels, helped me understand that travel is not only movement: it is a return, an encounter with oneself and with a rhythm that finally feels one’s own and perfectly aligned.