Corsica 2008

London was our gateway to Europe. We crammed in bus journeys, museums, galleries and history while staying in posh Pimlico, our old neighbourhood, many thanks to Pierre and Leane (Canada 2003). Alison (India 1985) treated us to her world famous lentils. We arrived a little late at the Tate Modern: the concrete crack (an earlier exhibit) had already been filled in. Ten pence theater lives on. We also caught a Shakespearean production at the Globe; one of the performers emptied the contents of a pee pot on us in the front row. London remains the best even when they piss on you.

Our first impressions of Nice, France were of palm trees and dog shit. We bumbled into renting a bohemian apartment room (French lesson 54). It had no sea views, it was on the wrong side of the tracks but the kitchen featured cockroaches, albeit tiny by Asian standards. Med museums, markets and mansions kept us busy. The Monaco pleasure craft scene and the exotic cars arriving at the casino must be seen: are they admirable or obscene? The Monaco street scene includes the public elevator system to get around the principality.

We arrived in Calvi by ferry from Nice and had our first Corsican lesson; move at a different pace. The tourist office, shops and buses all shut on Sundays in the tourist town. Instead of heading to the trail head, we cooled our heels in the Med- sandy beach, ancient citadel and snow in the mountains- not a bad place at all. Calvi supports a Foreign Legion base so the legionnaires rub elbows with the Euro tourist population. It is a tempting offer to sign up for the Foreign Legion: a new identity, French citizenship in 5 years and you get to wear those really cool white hats (képis).

We started our Euro walking tour with a one week warm-up on the "Tra Mare e Monti Norte" (the Corsican language is an Italian derivative). The reader can well imagine Sheila's disappointment when she arose on the first morning at Galeria, expecting to find a donkey wearing a big ribbon. No donkey, just a backpack.

The Mare e Monti trail was meant to be an easy introduction to Corsican walking. Our dreams of sauntering along gentle old mule paths and relaxing at the village cafe were shattered on the first day. There were plenty of 800-1,000 metre climbs on rocky, ankle/knee twisting paths with rewarding sea and mountain views. The track was lightly traveled (10 pax/day) and it attracted a comfort seeking walker. On the first morning, we thought we heard a familiar sound. It was a confirmed sighting on the 2nd day; we were in with blow-dryer walkers. We dodged rain and surprisingly cool days in the first half of June. We saw little of Ajaccio, the capital, as our focus was on footwear replacement. Despite public transport challenges, we managed a day trip to Bonifacio in the far south of Corsica from Porto Vecchio. Bonifacio is a splendid old town perched over cliffs. It typifies the Euro tourist towns: first thing in the morning it is ghostly quiet and then by lunch time, the crowds swell to Boxing Day sales levels, even in June. Porto Vecchio, while more manageable, holds the distinction of one of the few French towns where vehicles stop at pedestrian crossings. It has to be seen to be believed.

The main event in Corsica was to attempt the "GR20" (Grand Randonnee), a relentlessly rugged 170km route with a combined. 19,000 metres of ups and downs. We approached the GR20 from the south with a great deal of trepidation. Weather had been poor in the mountains, the earlier "easy" walk had already chewed up our footwear, Sheila had broken a trekking pole and then a tent pole split. South bound trekkers completing the route appeared shattered and they had experienced appalling weather conditions. The curse of Corsica and the Gr20 reputation loomed large.

So, how did it turn out? Brutal but rewarding. It is not the most difficult trail in Europe because it is more a route than a trail. It is partly a scramble and otherwise a romp on loose rock and granite slabs. There are a few spots exposed enough to make a particular chicken cluck, but mostly it's hard on the old knees. Although it is not particularly dangerous in good conditions, two people died on the route a week earlier. An average of 5 people die on the route each year. Authorities have little incentives to improve and thereby threaten it's status as Europe's toughest, so trail maintenance involves red and white paint to freshen up the route markers. Marketing brilliance.

Our most dangerous moment came several days into the trek. An incoming heavy rain front encouraged us to drop down off a ridge and stay at a gite. In the darkness, Glenn climbed up onto his upper bunk and managed to bring the unanchored bed crashing down without injury except a bruised ego.

Our most interesting camp was at the working alpine farm at Onda. The bergerie crawled with pigs, dogs, sheep, goats, cows and men rounding up the animals on horseback. The mountains are apparently not a place for free range chickens. The trekkers slept within a corral, designed to keep the critters out.

The refuges along the way were handy and normally sold basic supplies (Beer for 9 USD), served rustic meals and provided water, shelter and a few level tent sites. We managed daily showers and avoided sleeping in the snore-fest dorms. They are quite pleasant with the designed capacity of 25ish people but when people have to sleep on the kitchen floor and 35-40 tents pop up, they take on the aura and aroma of a music festival or refugee camp. Mobile Euros seem to spend their camp hours chatting with their mistresses on their phones. Even more amusing were the instances when we clambering over rocks to a col or summit only to find ourselves face to snout with a cow. What took you so long?

As the summer heat set in, we settled into 5:45am starts. We scrambled for 2 hours down and up (clucking was mostly on the descent) the "Cirque de Solitude" before the trekking groups arrived, thereby enjoying a small measure of solitude. Fellow trekkers were primarily French with a small minority of other Euros, though it was often difficult to determine nationalities with the standard brief trail greeting of "bonjour". Enjoyable as it was, towards the end, we could relate to Hillary's Everest sentiment of "let's knock the bugger off". Two weeks on, we finished the GR20 smiling with knees begging for a reprieve and a soak in the Med.

The beach at Calvi was welcoming and the water moderated the 35C afternoons. We pulled off a rendez-vous with Jean-Paul and Mimi (Canada 1974) and drank plenty of pink wine.

We boarded a ferry and returned to mainland France at Nice to commence the Alp Traverse (GR5).

BANANA NOTES

As the avid reader will recall from earlier banana reports, the Euro banana index is clouded by the murky world of banana politics and sourcing from ex-colonies. 2008 Banana Index (bananas per USD):

UK - 5, France - 4, Monaco - 3, Corsica - 2