Amalfi Coast, ITALY

I felt cold anxiety creep through my body as my hands slipped on the rusted guardrail behind me and rocks dug into my bare feet. My self-preservation instincts listed all the ways this could go wrong. I couldn’t do it. Twenty feet below, my guide shouted from the boat, “don’t think, just jump!” I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t in the mood for clichés—especially from someone seated comfortably in a boat. I inhaled the sweet salt air and peered over the edge, gazing below with wild excitement and paralyzing fear into the deep blue waters of Positano.

Halfway down the heeled boot of Italy, right above the foot, the Amalfi Coast region positions itself proudly as a twenty-eight mile stretch of Mediterranean coastline. With thousands of dedicated blog entries, travel articles, and Pinterest photos, one can easily see why the Amalfi Coast—a dream destination of small towns and larger-than-life views—remains a popular destination year after year. However, while tourists flock to the overcrowded and overphotographed attractions, the true traveler knows to seek adventure elsewhere.

I daydreamed of the colorful, sunny towns of Sorrento, Positano, and Ravello as I stared out a rain-streaked window with a head full of Dramamine. My ferry moved sluggishly across stormy waters towards the island of Capri which looked neither colorful nor sunny. Capri is a vibrant and stunning island, bustling with beaches full of sun-kissed visitors enjoying salty breezes and fruity drinks—or so I’ve heard. When I emerged from the ferry, rain tapped my bright blue poncho and settled into dirty puddles ready to greet my new leather sandals. I pleaded with the misty horizon and began my uphill trek to the town of Anacapri.

It wasn’t long before the haze lifted, and we all celebrated with granitas. I celebrated with two. I savored the competing sweet orange and sour lemon flavors and watched the afternoon sun emerge from its cloudy fortress. The next thing I knew, I was being swept away in a worn wooden seat as the chairlift whirred to life. Above towering trees, overgrown gardens, and fallen flip-flops, the wind played with my hair while I tried to soak in every detail of the coast shrinking below me. Twenty minutes disappeared and I found myself at the highest point of Capri.

Monte Solaro stands at almost 2000 feet above the sea, and it is here I stood with one foot planted firmly on the ground and the other midair as I swung it over a cold, metal railing. My smile grew as I slipped away from the sidewalks, unnoticed by the camera clutching tourists. Spellbound by the scene before me, I approached an overgrown outcropping. As I gazed down to the Tyrrhenian Sea below, my eyes widened at the dizzying height. In that moment, I could have sworn the sky above was closer than the salty waters below.

The next day I found myself again on a rocky perch, this time barefoot and trembling. I watched saltwater drip from my hair, counting the seconds as it floated through the air before returning to the sea twenty feet below. This was cliff jumping. It’s not a matter life or death, right? So why was I feeling this uneasy? I closed my eyes, willing my brain to stop flashing worst-case scenarios in my mind. Changing the channel, I focused on lemons and oranges, remembering a stomach full of laughter and granitas. I could see my friends pulling me into a rainy courtyard. I could feel a warm wind rushing around me, rocking my worn, wooden perch. And finally, I was on top of Monte Solaro, watching the ocean almost a mile below me, alone like I was, waving hello as it crashed into the unseen rocks. Finally opening my eyes, I looked past my toes at the still waters below me. Then I was flying.

The Amalfi Coast isn’t just a quiet, scenic place to relax—it’s an adventure awaiting the true traveler. Sure, it has sand and shopping. However, there are even more boats to ride, sights to see, cliffs to scale, and adventures to frighten and invigorate. A true traveler must leave her comfort zone behind to fully embrace and explore a new place. Looking past traditional tourist attractions, she travels boldly, seeking the unknown rather than the written-about. And when she’s in the Amalfi Coast? She doesn’t think. She jumps.