Marina Grande at the end of the day

Marina Grande is a separate world from the town above it: a single row of houses in ochre, pink and pale blue standing directly on the water, wooden boats pulled up on a concrete slipway, and a couple of restaurants with tables almost in the sea. Until the twentieth century it had its own dialect and its own gate.

It faces west, so the last hour of the day is the reason to come. The sun comes in along the shoreline rather than from overhead, which lights the house fronts, throws long reflections across the water and puts a warm rim on anyone standing on the slipway. The wooden gozzi and the drying nets give foreground; a low camera position on the ramp makes them read.

Access from the centre is down a long stepped lane through the old sea gate — around ten minutes downhill and rather more coming back, so plan it as the last stop rather than the first. There is a small local bus if steps are a problem. It stays a working marina, so boats are moved and nets are handled at unpredictable moments; that activity is worth photographing rather than waiting out.