I escaped Amalfi's infamous traffic by travelling by bike – this is what it's like to cycle one of the most beautiful coasts in Europe

Independent

17-04-2025

Here's the truth: I'm scared of the chaotic roads in my homeland of Italy. It's a bit like Bret Easton Ellis's opening declaration in his debut novel, Less Than Zero, about people's fear of merging on freeways in LA.
But instead of five-lane motorways and 18-wheelers speeding past, I'm terrified of Italy's unruly mopeds, wandering pedestrians, and narrow, twisty curves along steep cliffs – all sights that make the Amalfi Coast both an iconic destination and one of the most overcrowded.
Today, I'm hopping on a bike to find an alternative way to enjoy the coast's unmissable views without the crowds.
'We stopped offering the classic cycling experience along the busy Amalfi Drive, especially during the summer,' Peter Hoogstaden tells me in a strong Neapolitan accent. A Dutch engineer who moved here over 25 years ago, Peter is one of the pioneers of Italy's active and sustainable tourism, and my guide for today's nearly 25-mile cycling tour.
We are starting in the Unesco town of Minori – a lesser-known but strategic base for outdoor activities, just 2.5 miles from Amalfi – continuing up to glamorous Ravello, then through the green mountains to Tramonti, and ending in the seaside town of Maiori. 'We must think beyond the usual itineraries and tourist seasons,' he concludes, clipping on his helmet. And with that, we're off on an off-season, mid-March ride – perfect for my now-lower heat tolerance after a decade of living in England.
The view of Atrani, our first stop – Italy's smallest town by size – is already postcard material. A woman hangs laundry to dry on her balcony overlooking the piazza, and a waft of freshly washed clothes mixed with early morning sea air sweeps over us as the sheets dance on the drying line. As we cycle, the pervading 'Italianness' follows us with each turn showing off sunlit white stucco houses, whose brightness is softened by the deep shades of green from the bushy hills. The ascent is challenging but manageable with my e-bike, an increasingly common choice in this uneven land where there are no dedicated cycling paths and everyone shares the same road.
Twenty minutes later, we arrive in Ravello and stop for a quick espresso, religiously accompanied by a glass of cold water – a Southern Italy staple – at the piazza made famous by, among others, Jacqueline Kennedy, an honorary citizen of the town. But today, there are no 'Old Hollywood' celebrities, just locals enjoying their Saturday. The square is alive with children running around, their football bouncing dangerously close to a group of elderly men who are huffing and puffing about the weather. 'It's so cold' I hear one of them mutter; tinkling his spoon perhaps a tad too vigorously against the edge of his porcelain espresso cup, tightening his winter jacket in the 20C heat, and swiftly readjusting his wool hat.
Despite the popular images of juicy seafood dishes and brightly coloured houses perched above secluded sandy coves, the coastline itself stretches just over 30 miles. The Monti Lattari mountain range, which is the backbone of the entire coast, extends for more than 160sq kilometres, making it a seemingly floating mountain.
Cycling through these heights, we are off to Tramonti – also known as the Amalfi Coast 's 'green lung' – a small mountain district well-known for having exported pizza culture worldwide, with more than 2,000 pizza makers moving elsewhere in Italy and abroad. We meet Vincenzo Savino, Pizza Tramonti Association's president, for a traditional mountainous meal at agriturismo Il Tintore.
Both Peter and I are absolutely ravenous and thrilled to tuck into the local delicacies, from fior di latte mozzarella to the rich Tintore wine.
I concentrate on the explosion of flavour bursting on my tongue from the lemon zest generously grated over my paccheri pasta. After the last bite of dessert, the creamiest of lemon tarts, the post-lunch haze kicks in. As we experience it way too often, us Italians have coined a word to describe the sensation: abbiocco. My mind turns to the twisty descent that awaits us.
The sun dips lower, warming my shoulders through the glass door. Suddenly, I feel a small hand poke my shoulder. It's Vincenzo's son, Leonardo, urging me to come see the lemon orchards outside. I follow him and his cousin, Giovanni, into the lush garden.
He picks a lemon and I try to smell it. 'Give it to me,' he shakes his head in disbelief. 'You have to scratch it properly; that's where the lemon smell comes from, from the essential oils'.
I smile and pop the lemon into my bag, praying it won't count as a liquid at the airport.
On the Amalfi Coast, you know you're descending from higher altitudes towards sea level when the chestnut trees – commonly used to build the supporting structures of the region's famous lemon cultivations – give way to vineyards, and finally to the lemon groves themselves.
At our last stop in Maiori, we take a moment to watch the golden hour sun shimmer on the horizon. I can't help but feel lucky to have cycled my way through this intimate slice of paradise. The Amalfi Coast is a bit like a lemon: to get to know its authentic soul, you must start by properly scratching its surface – and then go deeper.