Elba is not a large island, 86. 49 sq. mi. according to google, yet is the third largest island in Italy after Sicily and Sardinia. Like Pisa it has a single claim to fame: Napoleon. Napoleon’s exile on the island lasted a mere 100 days but his name has lasted much longer. I must admit after many years of visiting the island this last trip was the first time I visited Napoleon’s villa, and I was sorely disappointed.

I come to Elba for the nature. Sure, I know there is plenty of nature here in Washington. Sometimes too much and I have to get out the weed-whacker, but I have a certain affection for the flora of the Mediterranean, and Elba is a good place to see some of it at least.

In some ways Elba is a walled garden. The steep rocky bluffs of the island limit access to only a few ports and it has been inhabited for millennia, so has been greatly affected by humans. Some accounts place Neolithic humans as the first inhabitants. Certainly Iron Age man was there and iron is a lot of what Elba was about. The Greeks, Etruscans, Romans, the Pisans, and everyone else who rested control of Elba was after it’s rich iron deposits. That and the gem stones that also abound there.

Mining is gone from the island now, and tourism is the source of income for the 30,000 inhabitants, either directly or indirectly. The ravaged landscapes that mining left on the eastern end of the island are being used to generate solar energy.

The Parco Nacionale Arcipelago Toscana has over the passed few decades claimed nearly 30,000 acres of land making it one of the largest in Italy. The old medieval footpaths now host hikers from all over Europe, and a few Americans. It is this stunningly variable land, which attracts me. Rocky peaks and swampy valleys, darkly shaded and forested valleys and raw sun baked coastlines make for a diversity of plants and animals.

This was the first time in my over ten visits to the island that I had a car. It opened up the west end of the island to me with the rugged peak of Monte Capanne and the old chestnut forests. At it’s center. A hike across the Filicaie le Calanche was breathing taking, both in the rigor it took to scramble up there as well as the beautiful views. There I also saw the remnant populations of yew (Taxus baccata) and holly (Ilex aquifolium) left from the last ice age.

I didn’t spend my whole time on the peaks though. It was still summer in some ways. I often ended a day of hiking with a quick dip in one of the island’s many beaches. Spiaggia San Andrea was still buzzing with swimmers when I visited it.

But on my last day on the island, my favorite beach at Nisportino was nearly abandoned. And summer felt decidedly over as did my trip.