(Scroll down for part 1 (Lost)
So we retraced our steps back down to the village of Minuta. Back at the place where the pathway divided we took the only other option, turning left. Under an archway and down a few steps we came across a man carrying a heavy sack of something on his shoulder. Naturally, we stopped and asked him how to get to the valley. He repeated the words of the donkey boy...follow the steps down and turn right at the end. So we followed the steps, passing a family of scarecrows that were having lunch...
Until finally we heard the sound of water rushing down the valley. Skye was tired, I was carrying her piggyback and we were slippery with sweat, dusty and sticky, but as the sound of the water became louder I managed to walk faster. Finally we came across some steps that lead down towards a hump-backed bridge and we crossed over the bridge into the hidden valley of waterfalls and remains of gothic buildings
Over the hump-backed bridge, along a woodland pathway, the rushing sound of water growing louder and louder. Shafts of sunlight flickered through the trees as we moved forwards, half blinded by the contrast of woodland darkness and dancing sun-rays. Suddenly ahead of us appeared a huge arched wall. The pathway turned to the left, but through the arches we could see a shallow stream and up the side of the arches was a strange old stairway. Which way should we go? Hot, tired and sticky we ran under the arches, kicked off our shoes and jumped into the stream.
It was absolutely bloody freezing. So we got out again before we turned blue and slowly walked down through the valley, past streams, waterfalls, babbling brooks and strange shaped abandoned buildings with trees growing inside them and waterfalls flowing out of windows. These were remains of old paper mills, left empty for years. It was so far away from reality that it is hard to imagine people once lived and worked up here in the middle of nowhere.
The sun was starting to vanish over the side of the mountain, it was time to head back down to Amalfi and catch a ferry home. I hoisted Skye onto my back again and slowly we walked back down to civilisation. As we came down the last few steps into town Carlo pulled the ferry timetable out of his pocket. A boat was leaving in ten minutes. We hurried throught the crowds and the touristy shops until we cane to the port. As the boat pulled away from the harbour we sat back, kicked off our shoes and watched, amused as Skye fell asleep, her head nodding up and down with the rythym of the ferry.