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| OUT WITH ANDY'S CYCLING PALS |
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| BASTIA, CORSICA'S SECOND LARGES CITY |
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| MY BUDGET HOTEL IN BASTIA |
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| BASTIA HARBOUR |
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| COLOURFUL CAR FERRY |
It's Sunday the 6th of September and I am lying on the bed in my hotel room in Bastia, Corsica.
I have barely come up for air since Iceland. Within days of my return I was visiting grandchildren Isaac and Susanna near Lewes. I then spent a week at the Long Mynd Hotel at Church Stretton guiding walks for HF Holiday guests. That was immediately followed by a long weekend in Dartmouth with Rubi, watching the annual Regatta. Now, just six days later, I am here in Corsica! In between all this I did manage to do some paid work.
I admit that I had been feeling rather weary lately, but I am convinced that three weeks of walking in the Corsican mountains with a weighty rucksack will soon fix that (?).
Walks like this demand special care when deciding what to bring, since everything has to be carried the full distance. I ummed and ahhed greatly when it came to the weight versus comfort compromises, e.g. do I bring the cosy thick heavy sleeping bag or the cold thin light one?
The packing process was sufficiently well advanced to squeeze in a 22 mile cycle ride with neighbour Andy and friends yesterday morning. The reward for our effort was an 'elevenses' comprising a Bloody Mary with nibbles at Andy's holiday home on the Solent.
The Easyjet flight to Bastia Airport was scheduled to leave Gatwick at 6.10am this morning. Normally, such an early departure would have required me to travel up on the preceding evening but Rubi offered to drive me there. An angel in disguise to be sure.
We left for Gatwick at around 2.45am and the journey would have been straightforward had I not managed to create confusion about the quickest way to reach the A3 from my house; then we found that the exit from the A3 onto the M25 eastbound carraigeway had been closed due to road works. What diversion signs there were seemed to send us around in circles. Time was ticking away when we finally worked out that we were meant to exit onto the M25 westbound carraigeway and then turn round onto the eastbound carraigeway at the next junction (which, incidentally, was 6 miles away). For a while we both wondered if I would miss the plane, but neither of us said anything until I had finally checked my baggage in. Phew!
After fond farewells I was off, and a few hours later I was on French soil. It was certainly a lot warmer than English soil. From this point on I had made no plans whatsoever, so I asked at the Information Desk at Bastia Airport how to get to Calvi, the coastal town nearest to the northern end of the GR20. They told me to take the Airport bus to Bastia centre and from there catch the 16.44 train which would get me to Calvi at 20.00.
Bastia is a busy ferry port and the second largest city in Corsica after Ajacco. The name, Bastia, derives from the bastion built by the Genoese to provide shelter from sea storms and about which the town grew. As soon as I stepped off the bus I realised that Bastia is an interesting place and I should use the rest of the day to explore it and catch the train in the morning. After all, who wants to arrive somewhere unfamiliar like Calvi at 8.00 in the evening and then have to look for accommodation.
With a little help from the Tourist Office, I found the 'basic but cheap' Hotel Le Forum, with its crumbling exterior and tired interior. At €30 per night I wasn't complaining though. Hence, here I am now, having enjoyed a nice sunny afternoon exploring Bastia, blogging away and looking forward to my mountain railway journey to Calvi tomorrow.
