AJACCIO & HOME

LE DAUPHIN HOTEL

NAPOLEON IN EMPEROR'S ROBES

MEMORIAL TO NAPOLEON AT PLACE D'AUSTERLITZ

AJACCIO HARBOUR

SCENIC TRAIN OVER MOUNTAINS TO CASAMOZZA

A SWIM IN THE MEDITERRANEAN AT PINETU BEACH

L'ESPERANZA CAMPSITE

BASTIA-PORETTA AIRPORT

At 6.50am David peered out of his tent and, as instructed, I patted on the side of Samira's to wake her up. I said my farewells to them both then left the campsite to walk down to the Bonifacio bus stop. It was fortunate that I was a little early as the bus left 6 minutes before its 7.10am scheduled time. I had been warned about bus timings in Corsica, but had assumed that meant they were often late!

There were another ten people on the bus, some of whom I recognised. It dropped us off at Scopetto where we changed to a larger bus that took us all the way to Ajaccio. It was a long and windy three hour  journey that visited a few interesting towns such as Sartene and Propriano along the way. As usual I went searching for the tourist office as soon as the bus had dropped me by the harbourside, and quickly found it. They suggested that the Hotel Le Dauphin would be good value for my stay and, at €60 for two nights, it certainly was.

One reason for coming to Ajaccio is that it was Napoleon Bonaparte's birthplace, so I dropped my bags at the Hotel and went on a history tour.

My first find was the Fesch Palace, named after Cardinal Joseph Fesch (1763-1839), Napoleon's maternal uncle, who gave a lot of money to create in his native town 'an art and science institute' for the education of young people. He also donated a large collection of paintings which are displayed here, including a very famous one showing Napoleon in his emporial robes. Attached to the Palace is the Imperial Chapel where Joseph Fresch and Napoleon's parents are buried.

It was hot in the afternoon, and I felt tired, so I went back to the Hotel for a siesta  which extended into the early evening. When I resurfaced the light was fading, but I could hear pleasant guitar music along the street and headed towards it. It was coming from the Cafe Latin, so I ordered a bruschetta and red wine and enjoyed my meal al fresco, bathing in the warm atmosphere of the street. This was followed by fruit salad, cassis sorbet and black coffee. It was a lovely relaxing evening and I slept well that night.

Friday morning in Ajaccio, and what a glorious sunny day. After an excellent breakfast I left the Hotel to continue my Napoleonic history tour. First I visited Place Foch to see Laboureur's statue of Napoleon dressed in Roman robes as First Consul, then, nearby in Place de Gaulle, a statue of him on a horse surrounded by his four brothers. Next, a walk away from the city centre to Place d'Austerlitz brought me to the location of a huge granite monument listing Napoleon's main victories and achievements. It is topped by a bronze statue by Seurre representing Napoleon in classic pose as a Guard Colonel (copied from a statue in Les Invalides, Paris).

I ate a picnic lunch by the Plage Trottel and walked back to the centre along the waterside, passing inland of the Citadel since it is still used by the military and thus cannot be entered.

I visited the house where Napoleon was born and learned much about his parents and family. Finally, the Napoleonic Museum at the Hotel de Ville housed medals, paintings and other artifacts relating to his life. Bonaparte is still admired and the places I visited have become sites of pilgrimage for some. Although I saw death masks and a model of the house on St. Helena where he was finally exiled and died, it was noteworthy that I didn't see any mention of Trafalgar or Waterloo. So, was he a heroic military genius and reformer of the French state, or was he simply a megalomaniac warmongering despot? A bit of both I suspect.

For supper I returned to the Cafe Latin for a salad of mozarella, tomato and olives, accompanied by white wine and traditional Corsican music. I imagined that my brother Paul was sitting opposite me at the table. He would have loved this. After a Grand Marnier nightcap back at the Hotel I was ready for sleep.

At 10.00am next morning I checked out of the Hotel. At 11.20am I was on the Ajaccio to Bastia train. I had a forward facing window seat and, as before, the ride through the mountains was delightful. The line crossed the GR20 at Vizzavona where the train stopped to drop off and pick up passengers. It was only a week and a half since I'd stayed there, but it seemed longer.

A 2.30pm I got off the train at Casamozza, some 12 miles short of Bastia, since this is quite close to Bastia-Poretta Airport where I needed to be tomorrow. For now I just walked the 7 miles to the coast along roads that were not too busy, pitching my tent at a campsite called L'Esperanza just a few hundred metres from Pinetu beach and, by 5.30pm, I was swimming in the still warm Mediterranean. The sky was patterned with a variety of those beautiful high level cirrus clouds against the pale blue backdrop.

Sunday morning, September 27th, and it's time to go home. I am happy to do so as I have achieved all that I intended, and more. Not only did I successfully walk, in good time, what is regarded by some as the most challenging trek in Europe, but I enjoyed the company of some wonderful people, managed to explore many other interesting parts of Corsica and learned something about its history. It has been an amazing experience, tough at times, but one that I will never forget.

Easyjet whisked me away from Corsica's Bastia-Poretta airport at 3.45pm. I watched the island recede through the aircraft window.

BONIFACIO

SANDSTONE PILLAR AT BONIFACIO

FERRY TO SARDINIA

THE CITADEL AT BONIFACIO

UNUSUAL ROCK PATTERNS ALONG COAST

SEMAPHORE DU PERTUSATU, WITH BONIFACIO IN BACKGROUND

STRANGE SHIP-SHAPED ROCK NEAR CAPO PERTUSATO

LIGHTHOUSE AT CAPO PERTUSATO

DAVID & SAMIRA

David and I were immediately taken with Bonifacio, with its beautiful harbour overlooked by a huge citadel, but more importantly the place had a nice buzz without being overcrowded. The hotels were painfully expensive but there was the Araguina campsite nearby. We were sufficiently confident in our desire to stay awhile that we commited to two nights.

After pitching our tents we returned to the harbour for a picnic lunch before taking a walk up to the citadel. Inside was a network of funny little streets but the views from the outer walls were amazing. The sea ranged in colour from turquoise to deep blue, depending upon the depth of the water. The cliffs were white and looked chalky, but were actually made of sandstone. The rock was eroded by the wind in such a way that it appeared layered.

Looking out to sea, Sardinia was clearly visible. Indeed, there seemed to be a regular Moby ferry shuttling people between the two islands. Part of Italy, it has mountain ranges too. Perhaps I will go there one day.

At 6.00pm we found a restaurant by the harbour called L'Albatros which offered tapas and two glasses of wine for €8. David managed to persuade the waiter to exchange his wine for beer.

I picked up a small bottle of whisky on the way back to the campsite and, as darkness started to fall, we brewed up some whisky-laced Earl Grey tea near to the tents. David also produced a large bag of M&Ms. A small gathering of campers accumulated around us, including Samira, Pieter and Yorick. It was past 10.00pm before we retired to our tents.

The following morning David, Samira and I headed down to the harbour. David and Samira had decided to take a boat trip to the nearby Archipel des iles Lavezzi, whereas I chose to walk along the cliffs to the lighthouse at Capo Pertusatu. I also walked down to the two beaches that were en-route. They looked like sandy beaches from a distance but were actually more like sandstone beaches. The stone was very fragile which explains why it is so easily eroded by the wind, producing the most interesting shapes.

It started raining lightly when I was furthest away from Bonifacio, and got heavier as I quick-marched back. There was nowhere to shelter unless I went into a bar, so I headed back to my tent to eat. David and Samira returned from their boat trip shortly after 3.00pm and the rain desisted by 4.00pm.

At 6.00pm we were back at L'Albatros enjoying another tapas and wine. David insisted on paying for me as I had charged his camera battery for him earlier. Later, back at the campsite, we imbibed our whisky-laced earl grey again. If it wasn't for the fact that I will be leaving for Ajaccio in the morning this could become a habit.

ASINAU TO CONCA & PORTO-VECCHIO

THE IMPRESSIVE AIGUILLES DE BAVELLA

FREDDY CLIMBING YET ANOTHER ROCK BARRIER

PIGGING OUT AT 'LES AIGUILLES DE BAVELLA' RESTAURANT

BRIT DAVID & AUSSIE ADRIENNE AT REFUGE D'L PILARI

LAST POSE BEFORE CONZA

SUCCESSFUL GR20'ERS BERNADETTE, LINO, ADRIENNE, MOI & FREDDY

MANUEL MAKES SURE THAT NOBODY ELSE GETS OUR 4X4

FELLOW WALKERS DRIFT OFF INTO THE DISTANCE, SOB

It had been another windy night, but the tent survived intact again. I left the Refuge d'Asinau at around 8.40am and walked in a southerly direction down the Asinou valley. At around 10.00am I came to a place where the path divided. Both branches went to Col de Bavella, but the right hand one went around the Aiguilles de Bavella, the impressive mountains topped with sharp pinnacles that lined the valley to the west. The left hand 'Alpine variant' was a shorter but more strenuous route that went across them and, apparently, offered spectacular views. I chose the Alpine varient.

My choice committed me to a long climb up a zig-zag path, but I just plodded upwards at a steady rate as I'd done many times before. Eventually I reached the high point, a plateau at 1,611m called the Bocca di u Pargulu. The views of the pinnacles and other rock formations out to the eastern coast were both impressive and beautiful.

Getting down to the Col de Bavella involved a descent of 400m and was a slow, intricate affair. The route was complicated, the rock was crumbly and, at one point, progress required a steep climb up a rock face using chains for safety. However, just beyond the Col is the village of Bavella where there were several restaurants, and I felt I deserved a reward for my efforts. I chose 'Les Aiguilles de Bavella' to order lunch comprising a 'traditional' Corsican set menu of charcuterie, veal with vegetables and chips (as an alternative to pasta), cheese, then creme caramel, washed down with a little vin rouge.

The food was excellent value, but I struggled to eat it all, feeling a little bloated as I left the restaurant. My destination for the day was Refuge d'l Piliri which required another 2 hours of walking. I was pleased when the path initially looked smooth and flat, but it soon took a right turn into the forest and started to climb. To get to the Refuge it was necessary to surmount a 200m rock barrier, with the path reaching its highest point at Foce Finosa (1,206m). Groan!

Once at the Refuge I decided to hire one of their tents again, rather than use my own, because I wanted to get away earlier than usual in the morning. This would be the last stage of the GR20, finishing at Conca. The Refuge Guardian informed me that there is transport at Conca that leaves for Porto-Vecchio at around mid-afternoon each day, and I intended to be on it.

The late afternoon was spent chatting to Adrienne, David from Shropshire and Freddy from Germany. I gave supper a miss as I was still feeling full from lunch. Before turning in, I filled my water bottles in preparation for an early departure the following morning.

Monday 21st of September, the last day of my GR20 trek, and I was away from Pilari by 7.30am - an early morning record for me. As I departed, I passed Freddy and the four young Belgian lads still packing up, but I knew I would see them later. The route descended slowly through woodland to begin with, but then climbed up to the Bocca di u Sordu. It was here that Freddy caught me up and the Belgian lads powered through.

For the rest of the route Freddy and I walked together. He was 10 years younger than me and faster on the climbs, but we were pretty evenly matched on the level and downhill sections.

The low morning sun gave the rock pinnacles around us a beautiful orange hue and we took many photographs. All too soon we reached the last viewpoint, the Bocca d'Usciolu, before the final rocky descent into Conca. We reached the official end of the trail just before 12.30pm, so had completed the final stage in under 5 hours. Also, because I did two double stages, I had completed the GR20 in 14 days, two days less than the guide suggested. I was pleased, as this gave me more time to explore Corsica before my flight home on the 27th.

What next? Well, we followed some signs through Conca that led us to La Tonnelle Gite d'etape where transport could be booked to take us the Porto-Vecchio. The four Belgian lads were already there, eating burgers and awaiting their ride. Freddy and I booked ours, and shortly after several others arrived, including David, Manuel, and yet another Belgian couple Lino and Bernadette. Adrienne was already there and had decided to stay in Conca for a day, but joined us at our table. Unsurprisingly, most of the conversation was about our experiences on the GR20.

Gradually everyone left, and eventually our own ride came to pick us up. It was a big black 4x4 with huge tyres. Thirty minutes later we were delivered to Porto-Vecchio. When I enquired about the cost it seems that Freddy had already paid for me. Freddy, David and Manuel headed for a camp site on the edge of town, but I craved something more comfortable and found the Hotel Panorama in the town centre. Over the duration of the GR20 I had made many acquaintances and had never once felt lonely, so it was an odd feeling to be completely on my own again.

I bought my supper from a local market to eat in my room, and spent the evening getting myself and my clothes clean again. It was wonderful to have access to a hot shower and a comfortable bed again, and also to be under no pressure to do anything in particular in the morning.

I had considered staying in Porto-Vecchio longer, but when morning came I concluded that there was not really enough  here to justify another night and decided to catch the 1.00pm bus to Bonifacio instead. After checking out of the Hotel I visited the Tourist Office to post a blog page using their WiFi when Adrienne came in, having just travelled from Conca. She was trying to get to Nice, but having some difficulties with ferries. Finally, she concluded that the best option would be to catch a bus to Bastia, which is a major ferryport.

We shared a smoothie and walked down to the bus stop to find David also waiting for the Bonifacio bus. Thus, as David and I boarded the bus, we waved goodbye to Adrienne probably for the last time. It was a parting tinged with a little sadness.

Half an hour later the bus delivered us to the harbour in Bonifacio. A quick glance around confirmed that we had made the correct decision to come here.

E CAPANNELLE TO ASINAU

BERTRAUD AT GITE U RENOSU AT E CAPANNELLE

BIG BLACK PIG

CLOUD INVERSION FROM REFUGE DE PRATI

ROCKY WALKING FROM PRATI

IDO HAD THE SAME RUCKSACK AS ME

DEPARTURE FROM REFUGE D'USCIOLU

I WUZ 'ERE (BUT CAN'T REMEBER WHERE)

KIRK & GARRY, FIT AMERICANS WITH A TOTAL AGE OF AROUND 140 YEARS

It was windy again overnight, but I was well sheltered by the snow plough. I packed my tent and walked to the Gite for a morning coffee. From the terrace I could see a beautiful cloud inversion to the east. Bertraud and I left the Gite and started walking in that direction.

Once again, the path was relatively easy compared to those I had encountered in the north. Bertraud and I enjoyed a steady woodland walk for about three and a half hours until we reached the plateau du Ghalgone, where we stopped at a refuge hut for a brief rest and a drink - a cup of tea for me.

We proceded down a long valley towards Bocca de Verde, with me walking some distance ahead. I suddenly spotted a wild boar, or sanglier, next to the path. I made noises to ensure it had heard me, but it simply ignored me and got on with its own business as I walked past. Maybe it was just a big black pig and I am exagerating a bit.

Bertraud would be staying at the Refuge de Bocca Verde whereas I just had a late lunch there. We exchanged email addresses and I said goodbye as I continued on to my campsite at the Refuge de Prati. This would involve a climb of just over 500m - yes, that really is half a kilometer - which seemed pretty daunting last thing in the afternoon. I managed it in 2 hours.

The Refuge looked down on the east coast of Corsica, and I could clearly see the towns and villages. At last I was begining to sense that the end of the GR20 journey was near. There were still a few days to go, but I guessed that much of the remaining walking would be accompanied by views of the sea.

I pitched my tent behind a large rock, which seemed to do the job of protecting me from the wind. Shortly after the light faded someone patted the side of my tent and called out something. When I opened the zipper to investigate it turned out to be a girl from the Refuge come to collect the €7 camping fee I had forgotten to pay.

In the morning there was an even better cloud inversion to the east than I had seen on the previous morning. Indeed, it was so good that I didn't get to see the sea all day. So much for my earlier prediction! However, the views to the west were clear.

After two relatively easy days, I had assumed that the walking would be much more gentle all the way to the end of the trail at Conca. I was wrong! The day's walk was tough and rocky, and involved climbing to the summit of Punta Della Capella (2,041m), then down to Bocca Lapiro (1,525m), then up to Monte Formicola (1,981m) before finally coming down to the Refuge d'Usciolu at 1,727m. It was an exhausting day on difficult paths, made even harder by the 30+ degree Celsius temperatures. I had drunk almost all my 2 litres of water by the time I arrived at the Refuge.

The late afternoon was spent chatting to Adrienne, who had already been at Uscioli for a while having set off from Prati very early, and new acquaintance Ido, from Israel. Ido had chosen the same design of rucksack as me and was interested in my experiences with it. I wondered if my lack of energy today was due to insufficient food, so in the early evening I ate the Refuge's hearty pasta supper with Americans Garry and Kirk, who generously shared their wine. We didn't stay up very late as it was getting cold.

I decided to use one of the ready-pitched tents this evening rather than my own because they had nice thick comfortable sleeping pads inside, in contrast to my own rather thin one. I wanted a good night's sleep as the following day I would be doing 2 consecutive stages, which would take me in excess of 8 hours.

I was away by 8.10am and for the next two hours had to tackle a long rocky mountain ridge at about 1,800m. Clouds obscured the easterly view again, but to the west, right at the foot of the mountain, many small villages could be seen and further away, the west coast. Descending the southern end of the ridge to a place called Bocca di l'Agnonu, I came to a choice of paths. One path led directly to the Refuge d'Asinau, my intended destination, along the old GR20 route. The other was the new GR20 route comprising two stages, the first to Refuge d'A Matalza and the next from Refuge d'A Matalza to Refuge d'Asinau. I had already decided that I would do both stages of the new route, partly because I had the maps for it and partly because I knew the several GR20 acquaintances would be on this route, but not necessarily doing both stages, so it would be chance to say farewell. So it was the case with Garry and Kirk, who I left at the Bergeries de Bassetta eating omelettes and drinking Orangina.

The path to Bassetta and on to Matalza and beyond was easy, and didn't get rocky until I started to climb Monte Incudine. The steep descent from the mountain ridge down to the Refuge d'Asinau was quite difficult though, but in spite of having been walking for over 9 hours, including breaks, I was still feeling positively energised.

Having pitched my tent, I was starting to think about food when one of a group of four Belgian lads I had spoken to frequently on the trek offered to boil me up some water to hydrate the meal Tom had given me in Vizzavona. It was a very tasty and filling curry, so thanks Tom. In return, I was able to share some of my tea and coffee. Afterwards I chatted to Ido for a while before it got cold and we retired to our respective sleeping bags. Ido was planning to do another two stages tomorrow so I might not see him again.

MANGANU TO E CAPANNELLE

SPOOKY ASCENT TO BRECHE DE CAPITELLO

LAC DE RINOSO

FRIENDLY BEASTS, FAR TOO CHILLED TO THREATEN ANYONE

BOCCA MUZZELLA AT 2,210 METRES

ONE OF MANY LIZARDS

WALKING COMPANIONS, WITH TOM AT FRONT RIGHT

DISCARDED BOOTS AT VIZZAVONA RAILWAY STATION

CAN'T GET MUCH MORE SECURE THAN TYING YOUR TENT TO A SNOWPLOUGH

It was now Monday the 14th, and according to my guide, today I would be hiking the 7th stage of the trail, taking me from the Refuge de Manganu to the Refuge de Petra Piana. A study of the map suggested that I would be on steep rocky terrain again, and this certainly turned out to be the case.

It had been windy overnight - indeed Neil and Josie's tent had almost blown down in the small hours - and that wind persisted throughout the day.

The final ingredient of the day's weather was the fog, which was dense and persistent throughout the morning. It made the climb up to Breche de Capitello seem quite spooky. Working along the ridge from there was hard work with lots of rock obstacles to climb over. Far below me were Lac de Capitello and, later, Lac de Melo and Lac de Rinoso. On the climb up to Col de Rinoso I came across two girls unable to proceed because there was a horned cow on the path. I did the gentlemanly thing and pushed it away with my trekking poles so we could all continue. When I did reach the Col de Rinosa I found Neil and Josie just starting lunch, so I joined them and we shared food again. We were briefly joined by yet another two Belgians, Rob and Marie, who were most impressed with my peanut butter, which they had not tried before.

The final part of the day's walk was a rocky downhill stretch to the Refuge de Petra Piana. The Refuge was beautifully located to enjoy the magnificent mountain views now that the fog had cleared.

After I had pitched my tent I had a job to do for Rob. The sole of one of his boots was starting to detatch from the upper, a problem that I'd had earlier on the trail. He'd seen how successfully I had repaired my own footwear and asked if I could do the same for him. I duly obliged.

There was a choice of routes the following day. The regular route involved descending 800m down a valley, and then having to climb 500m up again to the next Refuge de l'Onda. The alternative route stuck to the high ground and included a bit of ridge scrambling, which seemed wholly more attractive. Which route to take depended mainly on the weather.

By the time I had retired to my tent for the night, the strong winds of the previous night had already returned. As darkness fell the winds got stronger until the tent was writhing and buckling under the pressure. It is difficult to get much sleep when you are worried that your flimsy canvas protection might let you down at any moment. As it happened, the tent held together, although one end went slack because a guy rope had dragged the rock it was attached to. Other campers were not so lucky and spent the night having to re-peg their fragile abodes.

The wind was still blowing hard in the morning, which made packing the tent away difficult. I asked Tom whether he thought the high route was still feasible. His view was that the severity of the wind was partly due to the location of the campsite, and that there was a good chance that it would be safe on the hills. He was right. Whilst it was still blowy, the wind wasn't severe and the walk to Refuge de l'Onda was enjoyable and not particularly strenuous.

It was only 11.30am when I reached the refuge, which was too early to stop, so I decided that I would continue onto Vizzavona. However, leaving right away would mean that I would not be able to say a proper farewell to some of the friends I had made along the way, including Neil and Josie, and Rob and Marie. I had some lunch, filled my water bottles, checked my maps and generally fussed around for a bit, hoping they might arrive.

It was not to be. Getting to Vizzavona would take 6 hours, so by 12.30pm I had to leave. Neil and Josie have my email address anyway, so I guess we might be in contact later. The departure from l'Onda involved another steep climb and it took me over 2 hours to reach the summit of Punta Miratella at 2,141m. The walk down from there was rocky and difficult, and I was particilarly careful not to have another fall. The descent seemed endless and often involved walking across huge rock slabs pitched at an angle and relying on boot friction to walk across. Lizards seemed to enjoy basking on these slabs and scurried away as I aproached. Eventually the path improved and I started to come across people out for a casual country stroll, which meant I must be close to a populated area. Finally, I reached the road and walked to la gare de Vizzavona (the railway station, where many people join and leave the trail).

I passed the campsite and found the 'Bar-Restaurant la Gare de Vizzavona', a Gite d'etape where I booked demi-pension. Sitting on a table outside with several other faces I recognised from the trail was Tom, who had also decided to do a double stage. He would be going home from this point and was pleased to see me before he went. Apparently, he had scratched 'Go, Steve, Go' across the path to encourage me, but I hadn't seen the message and it would probably have been obliterated by the footfall of others anyway. He kindly gave me his last packet of camping food as he no longer needed it.

The Gite was not the nicest place I had stayed at and the landlord/owner seemed bad tempered. I shared supper with Bertraud from Lyon, France, who was in the same dorm. He had arrived today and asked if he could walk with me in the morning.

At least the breakfast at the Gite was good. Whilst waiting outside to commence Wednesday's walk, I found an old pair of discarded boots left by the railway platform. I had been told that the GR20 destroys boots and this was not unusual.

The walk from Vizzavona to E Capannelle was the easiest yet, with generally good paths and modest climbing. Bertraud was two years younger than me, but had not been well in the past, and struggled a bit to keep up. Nevertheless, we still made good time and, at Bertraud's suggestion, headed for the Gite u Renosu at E Capannelle rather than the Refuge. This was a good move as the camping was cheaper, they had a hot showers and the food was excellent. They also had electrical power so I could charge my electronics and keep writing the blog (but still no WiFi).

Another benefit of the Gite was that few other hikers seemed be aware of it. The only other GR20'er was Adrienne, from Australia, who had set off from Calenzana the day before I did. We compared trail notes over drinks on the terrace, and the Gite owner thoughtfully brought us a plate of olives and charcuterie.

E Capennelle is a ski resort in the winter and I pitched my tent between a hut and a snow plough to give it some shelter from the wind, tying one of my guy ropes to its track. I didn't think a snow plough would get dragged in the wind.

ASCU-STAGNU TO MANGANU

THE ROUTE TO MONTE CINTU

CALL THIS AS FOOTPATH?

MONTE CINTU SUMMIT

MIST AT 2,700 METRES

WALKING COMPANIONS AT AUBERGE U VALLONE

THIS IS HOW THEY GET SUPPLIES UP TO THE REFUGES

BELGIAN TOM AT GITE DE VERGIO

LAC DE NINO

According to my guide, the next stage of the GR20 is from Refuge d'Ascu-Stagnu to Refuge de Tighjettu via a place called the 'Cirque de la Solitude', reputed to be a particularly tricky part of the GR20 to traverse. Unfortunately, I would not get the chance to try it because of a disaster which occured at the Cirque in June of this year. As a result of heavy rainfall there was a rock-slide and at least 4 people were killed and double that number injured. The rocks are still considered unstable so the route through the Cirque, and consequently the whole of the stage, has been closed.

Fortunately an alternative route has been devised, but it takes two hours longer and is even tougher because it passes close to Monte Cintu, the highest mountain in Corsica. For those who didn't fancy the alternative route, there was a bus organised to bypass it - for €35.

Thus, you can interpret my decision to take the alternative route as either meaness or a determination not to leave a gap in my GR20 journey. Whatever, I set off at about 8.30am and followed the two yellow stripes that had been painted onto rocks and trees to help guide us. The path was pretty easy at first, but then it got steeper and steeper. A lot of climbing was needed as I worked my way up the Cirque de Trimbolacciu until I eventually reached Bocca Pampanosa at about 2,500m.

A large number of rucksacks had been left by a stone shelter at the col, but I knew what they were for. Walkers had temporarily discarded their heavy kit to take a brief detour up to Monte Cintu, 2,710m high and about 2 hours round trip from this point. Visiting Corsica's highest mountain was too good an opportunity to miss, so I left my rucksack with the others and did the same.

Reaching the summit involved a bit of rock scrambling, but this was easy without a full pack. I am told that the whole of the island can be seen from here on a clear day but, unfortunately, my climb was accompanied by mist. At the top was a Corsican flag and a tin box containing a book for visitors to sign. I couldn't find a pen so I stuck a business card in there instead. You never know. A low flying aircraft might pick it up!

My rucksack was the only one left by the time I got back to collect it at around 3.00pm. The higher you go, the longer the descent is, so I now had a long slow trudge down to the hostel. I had skipped lunch to save time and although I had been nibbling sugary sweets for energy (don't tell the dentist), I was getting tired. We all know the pride comes before a fall, so I shouldn't have been so pleased with myself at reaching the summit as the next bit was inevitable. I slipped on a rock and knocked my knee. It hurt, but thankfully not enough to tell me that I had done any real damage, and I had not broken the skin. Previous experience has taught me that the best cure for such an injury is to keep moving, so I carefully limped the rest of the way down to the Refuge de Tighjettu.

As I approached the Refuge I met a girl hiker leaving the place who told me that it was very overcrowded, but if I continued walking for another half hour I would find a much more pleasant place. I took her advice and soon reached the Auberge u Vallone, where I came across a group of other GR20 walkers who I'd met at the other refuges. They told me to pull up a chair and share some goat's cheese, spiced sausage and beer with them. It was a pleasant end to a full 9 hours of walking. I hoped my knee would be good for the following day.

Living in a small tent with a painful knee is hard, as doing most things involves kneeling. Still, I coped, and the following morning I managed to get myself ready to depart by 8.30pm. My knee felt much as it had the night before, which I considered good news as it hadn't got any worse.

The next stage would get me to Refuge de Ciottila de Mori in 3 to 4 hours - a short day, but perhaps an ideal duration under the circumstances. The route involved a couple of hours of easy walking down a wooded valley, and then some steady climbing up to la Bocca di Fuciale at 1,962m. From there it was just another half kilometer to the Refuge de Ciottila de Mori where I stopped to eat and drink. I considered pitching my tent as planned, but the weather was beautiful, my knee felt better and and it seemed too early to stop.

Thus, I left the refuge and continued along the GR20 route, knowing that there were a couple of other refuges further on. The terrain was roughly similar to that found in the UK, with rolling hills and gently sloping woodland paths. I was able to move much more quickly than before, and when I reached the Bergerie de Radule, a potential camping place, it was still only 3.00pm, so I kept walking. An hour later I reached the Gite de Vergio which offered demi-pension (evening meal, a bed in a dorm and breakfast) for €48. The thought of a comfortable mattress was too tempting to pass up. There was a campsite too with some rather tame pigs wandering around it foraging for fir cones. Tom was there in his tent and we both agreed that it had been well worth the extra walking to get here.

After enjoying the best hot shower I'd had for days, I felt clean again. I had dinner with Australians Jamie and Paula, and managed to get my blog writing up to date, although I still couldn't post anything as there was no WiFi (Again? When are these Corsican establishments going to get up to date!).

After a restful night, I woke up to find it raining for the first time, with dark clouds overhead and the sound of a thunderstorm in the distance. Staying in the dorm had been a fortunate decision as I didn't have a wet tent to pack away.  I discussed the weather situation with other walkers and we all agreed that we would wait a while to see if things improved. Sure enough, by 9.00am it was clearing and an hour later I was off.

The day's walk was largely on good paths with only a few rocky bits to traverse, none of which required the use of hands. The ascent was about 480m up to Bocca a Reta, but this was over a period of nearly 3 hours of walking, so the gradient was low. I had my lunch about a kilometer east of the Bocca by the waters of Lac de Nino.

I noticed that the GR20 route marked on the ground was different to what the map said for the next two kilometers, and later realised that this was to ensure that walkers passed a place selling refreshments and cheese. I wondered if money had changed hands to get that done. I finally reached the Refuge de Manganu at about 4.00pm, and pitched my tent.

It had been a lovely walking day, alternating between sun and clouds, and although rain threatened at times, it never actually materialised. I decided not to take the evening meal at the Refuge this evening as I was getting bored with pasta. The Guardian cooked me an onion omelette to eat instead, after which I withdrew to my tent for an early night.

CALVI & CALENZANA TO ASCU-STAGNU

MY TRAIN AT BASTIA STATION

CALVI

CAMPSITE AT THE GITE D'ETAPE IN CALENZANA

LEMON SORBET IN VODKA

LOOKING BACK TOWARDS CALVI

IMPRESSIVE MOUNTAINS

SPAIMATA SUSPENSION BRIDGE

LOVELY BELGIAN COUPLE NEIL AND JOSIE

The train left Bastia for Calvi at 9.25am. Most of the other passengers looked like hikers. We were all in for a treat.

Once out of the environs of Bastia, the train wove through river valleys and over bridges, giving us spectacular views of the rugged mountains. They looked beautiful, but intimidating; I decided to put the latter characteristic to the back of my mind for now. The journey only cost €16.40 but if they had called it a scenic railway trip and charged twice the price, I'm sure they would have filled all the seats.

The half-way point of the journey was Pont Leccia, where we waited for passengers from the Ajaccio train to come aboard. It was then a slow winding descent to the coast near I'lle Rousse. The final part of the rail trip followed the shore-line into Calvi and was just as breathtaking as the mountain section. When we rolled into Calvi at 12.47pm I wondered how over 3 hours could go so quickly.

I could have alighted a few miles before Calvi at a campsite for GR20'ers, but it would have been a shame not to pay a visit to this pretty harbour town, and it was too late in the day to start the walk anyway. Like Bastia, Calvi had an overlooking citadel, which I obviously explored. It also had a large marina filled with expensive yachts and a promenade lined with bars and restaurants offering their 'Menu du Jour'. I ended up buying lunch from local Spar store though (Spar seems to be popular in Corsica).

My intention was to start the GR20 tomorrow and that required me to get to the start point in the village of Calenzana, about 9 miles away, before nightfall. At a push I could have walked along the roadside, but I found a private bus company that would take me, along with quite a few others, to Calenzana for just €8 each. I noted that the thermometer above the windscreen said the outside temperature was 31 degrees C. 

We were dropped off outside the Calenzana Gite d'etape at about 4.30pm. All the rooms were booked but I paid to pitch my tent nearby. On the rocky ground, this required the use of the masonry nails I had brought as tent pegs.

I explored the village, which was slightly dilapidated but still a really pretty place with loads of character. Residents were sitting on their doorsteps smoking, chatting and enjoying the late afternoon sun.

I located the start of the GR20 path to save me looking for it next morning, and then ordered supper from the Restaurant Le Calenzena. It was only pizza, but it tasted good, and it was followed by a sweet of 'Citron Sorbet in Vodka'. Cracking. Along with a half litre of Corsican red wine, I knew I would sleep well. When I came to pay the bill they also gave me a free glass of a Corsican liqueur called 'Red Myrtle' which was served ice-cold. It is apparently distilled from Corsican myrtles harvested in the shrublands (the maquis). I was pleased that the campsite was downhill from the restaurant so I could roll in the correct direction.

I awoke as the sun rose with a clear head, surprisingly, and on exiting my tent found that many of those that surounded mine the previous evening had now gone - the early starters, who were either concerned about storms breaking in the afternoon or simply wanted to chose the best tent pitch at the Refuge d'Ortu di u Piobbu, the next stopping point some 6 to 7 hours of walking away. I left the Gite at 8.00am so there was still plenty of time.

This first stage of the GR20 involved an ascent of 1,360m and I knew that it would be a hard plod with a full rucksack. The path was clearly marked with the usual red and white stripes of a GR trail, but it was rocky so concentration was required to avoid tripping over. From time to time I would look back at Calvi receeding into the distance. The view was especially good from the col at Bocca a u Saltu at 1,250m.

The next hour of the trail was steep, and hands as well as feet were required to make progress, so the trekking poles were stowed away. It was tiring work for the first day, so I was pleased to reach the grassy col at Bocca a u Bazzichellu at 1.00pm, which was the perfect time to have my lunch of cheese and salami on pitta bread.

The final part of the walk to Piobbu Refuge took me a little over an hour. The early starters had been there a while and the place was buzzing with activity with people busily pitching their tents. The Refuge was pretty basic with only cold spring water for washing, but for €20 they offered a hot evening meal which comprised vegetable soup for starters, lentils with sausage for the main course, and cake for afters. It wasn't the most generous meal, though, as it was a challenge to find the sausage.

It was cool the following morning because the Refuge was at 1,450m and shaded by the steep mountains. I was away by 8.20am and continued south climbing through woods on rocky paths. Progress slowed considerably as I left the woods and the rocks became boulderfields. This was tough going, and when I reached the Bocca di Pisciaghja at 11.30am I thought the hard work was over. In fact, it was just beginning.

I should have guessed this as I surveyed the terrain to the south. It was the most rugged I had ever seen, with steep mountain ridges, one after another, separated by deep, almost bottomless, valleys. The mountains were topped by sharp pinnacles that I would later discover the GR20 path weaves around. It was difficult to see where they could find places flat enough to build a refuge.

The next hour involved scrambling up and down jagged rocks. At the Bocca d'Avartoli I stopped for lunch, sharing food with a young Belgian couple, Neil and Josie, who I had first met whilst waiting for the bus at Calvi.

There was one more col to reach after lunch, Bocca di L'Innominata, and then it was an hour and a half of descending down slippery scree. The Refuge de Carrozzu finally appeared from amongst the trees. After a full-on 7 hour day, I was pleased to pitch my tent, have a cold shower and enjoy the evening meal in the pleasant company of fellow hikers.

Other than the early crossing of a swaying suspension bridge at Spasimata, the third day of walking was much as the second day, with rugged paths, boulderfields, scrambling up and down rock faces, often with protective chains attached,  and sliding down steep scree slopes. What made it easier was that I now knew what to expect and I could feel myself getting stronger. I once again shared some lunch with Neil and Josie on the Bocca di Stagnu before descending to the Refuge d'Ascu-Stagnu.

There is a tarmac road leading to this refuge, so many visitors come here just for the day. They are easily distinguished from the GR20 hikers by the small rucksacks they carry. The refuge had electricity to charge phones and cameras, but no WiFi sadly. It also had food to purchase for the trail and a separate restaurant that served an a la carte menu and took credit cards. I took full advantage of all that was available and enjoyed a fine steak meal with Tom, another Belgian, who was also walking the trail alone and with whom I shared a table. We had many interests in common and got along very well.

The next day's walk would take me past Corsica's highest mountain, but more about that in the next post.