Choosing where to go in Italy is a beautiful problem. With hundreds of hilltop villages, UNESCO wonders, and breathtaking coastlines, the options can feel endless. Tropea had popped up more than once on social media – often described as one of the most beautiful towns in Italy for its dramatic cliffside setting, historic old town, glowing sunsets, the hidden Grotta del Palombaro, and its unspoiled beaches. Tucked at the tip of Italy’s toe in Calabria, it felt like a worthy final stop. And it delivered.
We left our anchorage early, the Tyrrhenian Sea kindly calm – perfect for packing and reflecting on the final leg of this shared journey. Our destination: Vibo Valentia. From there, Steve and family would spend a few last nights on land before flying home to Australia, while Doug and I would soon head to Berlin to visit Em and cheer on our Uniroos playing volleyball.
Before parting ways, we gathered for one final lunch aboard … our now-iconic grilled focaccia sandwiches. In some way, these simple meals became a signature onboard. Layers of turkey or ham, ripe tomato, crisp cucumber, Crescenza Italiana cheese, and that magic smear of pesto di rucola. Superior dining at sea. The secret? That creamy, tangy cheese and peppery green pesto – a combo thanks to Steve and Catherine that we’ll be craving long after the sails are folded.
Doug decided to stay behind, giving Kora what he lovingly called a little “spa treatment” – a thorough rinse and gentle scrub to wash away the salt and sun of the past few weeks. Oscar stayed too, soaking in his final hours aboard and nursing a slightly swollen knee from the previous day’s aquatic antics. He used the quiet time to draft what he insists is a proper sailor’s tale of our journey … stay tuned for that gem!!!
Meanwhile, Steve, Catherine, Chelsea, and I boarded a train and set off to Tropea. And oh, what a place. The train winds through olive groves and past steep ridgelines before opening to the brilliant blues of the Calabrian coast. Tropea’s buildings seem to grow straight out of the cliffs, a cascade of warm-toned facades spilling toward the sea. It’s a place suspended between land and water, past and present.
We wandered down ancient stone steps to the Grotta del Palombaro, a natural sea cave tucked beneath the old town’s cliffs. Inside, sunlight danced through the water in otherworldly hues of blue and green. The cave was once used by fishermen and doves (hence the name Palombaro, Italian for “diver” or “deep-sea fisherman”); now, it welcomes swimmers looking to explore its wonders and escape the summer heat.
There on the beach, waist-deep in the Ionian shallows, we met two fellow Australians – one from Melbourne, the other Brisbane – who had chosen Tropea after seeing a single Instagram photo of the grotto. They were chasing something quieter, something less tourist-trampled. Interestingly, they didn’t identify my accent as Australian, but instantly picked Catherine as one of their own. (Funny how, in America, I’m the unmistakable Aussie, being called out for my accent almost every day!)
As the sun slipped behind the horizon, we sipped spritzers and shared a plate of hot chips at a little bar perched over the water, then strolled the charming old town streets, stopping to purchase some local chili and enjoy a quick bite to eat for dinner.
We caught a quick dinner before the train ride back, where the conductor took a liking to Chelsea, letting her pose with the train key and wear his hat. Pure joy!
That night, back aboard Kora, nobody seemed in a hurry to sleep. We packed, ate ice cream under the stars, and stretched those last few conversations as long as we could. It felt like there was still more to say … more laughter to be had!
We made it to the airport on time, but parting wasn’t easy. Arrivederci, dear crew – we’re missing you! We hope sailing Kora held its own beside the ski slopes… because for us, this voyage ranked way up there.
