San Fruttuoso: A Medieval Abbey in a Hidden Ligurian Cove

There is a place on my coast that you cannot drive to. No road reaches it, and that is precisely the point. You come to San Fruttuoso the way it was always meant to be reached, from the sea, and I would argue there is no better way to understand the whole of Liguria than that: from the water, looking back at the land.

I have written before that my region should be admired from the sea, and nowhere proves it like this. The little abbey sits folded into a narrow cove of the Portofino promontory, between Camogli and Portofino, enclosed by wooded cliffs and open only to the south, so that it reveals itself all at once as your boat rounds the headland: grey stone, a slip of pebble beach, a medieval tower, and behind it the green wall of the park. The first sight of it never fails to move me.

Arriving by sea

I reach it by boat along my own stretch of coast, and if you can arrive the same way, do. The bay sits inside the Portofino Marine Protected Area, so pleasure boats moor to the buoys in the cove rather than anchoring, which keeps the seabed and the Posidonia meadows intact. As you come in slowly, the water shifts through every blue there is.

If you would rather not have your own boat, the little passenger ferries are lovely in themselves: from Camogli with the Golfo Paradiso service (about half an hour), and from Santa Margherita Ligure and Portofino with the Tigullio boats (Portofino is barely ten minutes away). And if you love to walk, the footpaths through the Portofino park reach San Fruttuoso from Camogli (a demanding two and a half to three hours, via Pietre Strette), from Portofino, and from Santa Margherita, arriving hot and happy to a swim. Whichever way you come, check the current ferry times and the abbey’s opening hours before you set out, as both change with the season.

The abbey

The Abbey of San Fruttuoso di Capodimonte is a thousand years of history in a spot barely a hundred metres wide. As legend has it, monks carried the relics of Saint Fructuosus, a bishop of Tarragona martyred in the third century, across the sea to this hidden shore, and a Benedictine community grew up around them from the eighth to the tenth centuries. You can still feel that deliberate seclusion: this was a place to withdraw from the world, and it remains one.

From the thirteenth century, the powerful Doria family of Genoa took the abbey under their protection, rebuilt it, and made it their burial place; the elegant Doria tombs in their striped Ligurian stone are among the loveliest things to see inside, along with the two-level cloister and the Romanesque church. Later, to guard the cove from the pirate raids that plagued this coast, the family raised the Torre Doria, the square watchtower that still stands over the bay and now holds a small exhibition.

By the twentieth century, the complex had fallen into decline, until in 1983 the Doria Pamphilj family donated it to the FAI, Italy’s national trust, which restored it and opened it to visitors. Thanks to the FAI, you can walk through it today and, if you are lucky, catch one of the concerts or events they hold in a setting that is hard to beat anywhere in the Mediterranean.

The Christ of the Abyss

And then there is what lies beneath the water. Out in the bay, some seventeen metres down, stands the Christ of the Abyss (Il Cristo degli Abissi), a bronze statue of Christ with his arms and face raised towards the surface, in a gesture of peace.

It was placed here on 29 August 1954, cast by the sculptor Guido Galletti and lowered onto the seabed at the urging of the diver Duilio Marcante, in memory of his friend Dario Gonzatti, a pioneer of Italian diving who died in these waters, and of all those lost at sea. There is something very moving about how it was made: the bronze was cast partly from medals, ships’ bells, and military decorations donated for the purpose, including, they say, propellers from a United States Navy submarine. Every year, around the anniversary at the end of August, a ceremony is held in its memory.

Because the statue lies within the marine protected area, you can dive to it only with an authorised guide, and it is one of the world’s most famous underwater pilgrimages. If you do not dive, do not despair: a faithful copy stands inside the abbey church, and on a calm, clear day you can make out the original from a boat above.

A day at San Fruttuoso

Give it time. Beyond the abbey and the tower there is a tiny square with a couple of seasonal trattorias, a handful of old fishermen’s houses, and that little pebble beach, where the swimming, in the protected, impossibly clear water, is a joy. It makes a perfect half-day from Camogli, or a full, unforgettable day strung together with Portofino and a stretch of the coastal path. Come out of the high season if you can: in July and August the little bay fills quickly, and San Fruttuoso is at its most magical when it is quiet, and you can hear the sea against the stones and imagine the monks who chose this exact, hidden, perfect place.

Frequently asked questions

Further reading

• Its glamorous neighbour, a natural pairing: a day trip to Portofino
• Why I say Liguria must be seen from the water: sailing the Gulf of Poets
• Stunning and poetic Porto Venere
• My home region, coast to coast: the Cinque Terre and Liguria