“Appreciate My Ass”: A much appreciated and worthwhile hike

That is a pretty weird headline, I’ll admit. But bear with me—it actually makes sense once you’ve stood on a narrow ledge in Southern Italy.

Our group at the Midnight Tower.

In the fall of 2023, while on vacation in Sapri with my sister Linda and our friends Wendy and Janet, we decided to tackle a local trail with a curious name: Apprezzami L'Asino. Lucy, opting for a bit of relaxation, decided to stay behind and rest while the four of us set off.

I initially translated the name for the group as “Appreciation for the Donkey.” However, having lived in Italy long enough to know my way around a reflexive verb, I had my doubts. I pulled out Google Translate for a second opinion, and we all got a good laugh when the screen flashed back: “Appreciate my ass.”

As it turns out, the true meaning lies somewhere between a bad translation and a brutal history.

Also at the tower lookout point.

According to the local trail placards, this path follows an ancient mule track that was once the only land artery connecting Sapri to Acquafredda di Maratea. The name comes from a centuries-old legend of the “donkey trade.” Because the path was so narrow, if two loaded donkeys met face-to-face, it was impossible for them to pass. The owners would have to “appreciate”—or appraise— the value of their animals. The owner of the less valuable donkey would be compensated half its worth, and the poor creature would be pushed off the cliff into the sea so the other could proceed.

We had our doubts about the cruelty of that story. Some locals propose a slightly more humane version: After the appraisal, the less expensive donkey was simply forced to walk backward. Considering the sheer drop-offs, walking a donkey backward on a narrow ledge requires a serious “appreciation” for the animal’s skill!

Today, the trail is no longer a hazard for livestock, but it’s a dream for tourists. The path traces the rugged coast of the Gulf of Policastro, with the crystal-clear Tyrrhenian Sea slapping against stark rock outcroppings below. At the start, we passed the Spigolatrice di Sapri—a famous bronze statue perched on a rock in the surf—and made good use of the stone water fountains along the way.

Here we are scrambling down
from the Torre di Mezzanotte.

As we pushed further south, the path narrowed significantly. The gentle walk turned into a bit of a ledge-crawl with steep drops to the water. The grand finale was a scramble up a rocky slope to the Torre di Mezzanotte (Midnight Tower). This ruined 16th-century watchtower marks the official border between the regions of Campania and Basilicata. The 360-degree views from the top were spectacular, and we all agreed it was the undisputed high point of the hike.

The low point arrived about two-thirds of the way back.

With little warning, the sky opened up into a torrential Mediterranean downpour. We were soaked to the skin in seconds. We tried huddling under the thick trunks of some large pine trees, but the rain eventually fought its way through the needles and drenched us anyway. I tried a desperate sprint to a trailhead sign for cover, but it was useless—I was already a walking sponge.

Fortunately, the deluge stopped as quickly as it started. Drying out in the humid air, we made our way back to the trailhead where Lucy was waiting with the car. It was a day of “appreciating” a lot of things: the views, the history, and especially the dry seats of the car. It’s a hike I’d recommend to anyone—just maybe check the weather app before you go!