Looking out over Les Calanche to the Golfe de Porto (Corse)
Looking out over Les Calanche to the Golfe de Porto (Corse)
(Click on the thumbnail photos to view a larger version.)
Day 14: We bought our lunch stuff in town because we
were going to be crossing the southern edge of the Désert des
Agriates and it didn't look like we'd see any grocery stores for
nearly 50 km. From town we immediately began to climb, curving and
switching back for 7 km until we reached the tree (the only
bit of shade since leaving town). The road levelled a bit as we
passed through the hamlet of Casta (where we were
able to get a cold Orangina and a water refill) but we
continued to climb after our break. The desert
has some scrubby vegetation, a lot of rocky outcroppings and a few
small isolated mountains. There was little traffic and the breeze
was furnace-hot. We reached the col, the Bocca di Vezza, the
midway point of the ride, at about 11 AM. The 8 km descent from the
col was on a wide smooth road, no switchbacks nor sharp curves
- what a pleasure! Once we joined the main road into l'Île
Rousse we had a couple of climbs and descents and then the sea came
into view with a nice sandy beach. We stopped for a drink and I
guzzled a large carafe of cold water and then we rode on into l'Île Rousse.
The
town is old with narrow streets, one above
the next, paralleling the beach. There's a broad central square
dominated by a large but unremarkable church. There were several late
afternoon games of boules being played so we sat on the steps
to watch. (The game of boules has some
similarities to curling, but without the ice, the brooms and the
shouting.) One game was noteworthy because one
of the competitors was a woman, quite a bit younger than the
usual crowd of 60ish men. I had never before seen a woman playing in
all the trips we'd taken to France. And she was good! We had a nice
meal on a little terrasse set up on one corner of the square
across the street from the restaurant. l'Île Rousse, with its
old streets, covered marketplace, port, beach and shaded square was
one of our best stops. (cycling distance today: 49
km; today's high temperature: 36°C/97°F)
The mountaintop village of Sant' Antonino (Corse), "un des plus beaux villages de France"
Day 15: We decided not to take the busy direct route
nationale to Calvi but instead to go over the mountain and
approach Calvi on smaller, quieter roads. (That's
right! We actually seek out mountainous routes. It's no wonder some
people think we're crazy. But there's always less traffic, the views
are much better and we get to see places and things that most
tourists miss.) This meant that we
started the day with a steep 6 km climb - a daily routine, it seems -
to Corbara, a nice little town built up the face of a hill with a
large convent at the top of the climb. We descended steeply to
Pigna, a pretty village with many houses
painted in a peachy-beige colour and sporting blue shutters. Nice
effect. We left the road to cycle down into the village of Aregno for
a drink and a water
refill. (I'm drinking
about 6 litres of water a day with these afternoon temperatures in
the mid-thirties ..... USA: mid-nineties. You guys should get in sync
with the rest of the world. Every time I note a temperature I have to
do that cumbersome calculation so that you'll know what I'm talking
about.) Aregno has a nice church in
that same peachy-beige colour. There must have been a paint sale.
Getting back up to the main road proved to be too much for me.
Loaded, it was just too steep for me to get started so I walked the
bike up to where the pitch lessened before mounting up. We turned off
the main road again almost immediately, this time climbing steeply
for 2½ km to the village of Sant' Antonino. The village is built
on top of a small mountain and the narrow cobblestoned passages that
twist and turn up to the summit, crowded by buildings on both sides,
make it more like a maze than a village. One little café
offered freshly squeezed grapefruit juice. What a treat! And she
refilled my water bottles with icy cold water. It was
36°C/97°F again so I asked the woman if this was unusual
for June. No. And July and August are hotter. But April and May are
lovely, as is September. Is it cold in winter? Yes. 6 to 10 degrees (Celsius again - That's 43 to 50 degrees F. Come on,
you Yanks. Grab a mitt and get in the game!!) Sometimes zero!
I explained to her that, to a Canadian, that wasn't cold - that was
mild! The little chapel of Ste. Anne was very nice. However, if you
were elderly or disabled, the twisting
cobbled lanes would be insurmountable obstacles. But the 'plus
beaux' designation is well deserved. (There are
more than 125 villages in France each officially identified as "un
des plus beaux villages de France" - 'one of the most beautiful
villages of France' - and Sant'Antonino was one of the prettiest of
the 75 or so that we've seen in our travels.)
We
sped back down to the main road and into the tiny village of Cateri
where we had our lunch and then climbed to the Col de Salvi - hot and
steep. Pushing down on the front of my helmet during these climbs
produces a shower of hot sweaty water from the saturated foam pads
inside, as does wringing out my cycling gloves. There are circles of
salt every few hundred metres on the hills on many of Corsica's roads
since my visit there.
At
the col we had a great view of the Golfe de Calvi far below.
We descended steeply on uneven pavement with a splendid view of
the village of Montemaggiore ahead of
us, framed by the huge massif of Montegrosso rising up behind
it. From Montemaggiore we plunged down, at first on a series of short
tight switchbacks (I'm glad we weren't going in the
opposite direction!) and then on some long fast straights,
once again into dry hot winds, almost all the way into Calvi. Not a
very good hotel - the Casa Vecchia. That's one of the hazards of
booking over the phone or the internet. Calvi claims to be the
birthplace of Christopher Columbus. The city holds an important place
in Corsican history. The impressive
citadelle has faced a number of would-be conquerors, some
of them successful. Nice, unusual church - Ste. Marie Majeure - with
a curved interior. Busy place - lots of night life. (40 km; 36°C/97°F)
Day
16: After breakfast in town I bought an International Herald
Tribune newspaper and sat and watched the bikes while Carol inspected
the massive citadelle that towers over the city.
The
paper gave me my first news in over 2 weeks. Nothing had changed. We
climbed (of
course) out of Calvi to a belvedere
with an amazing view of the sea and coastline. The road then snaked
along for about 12 km, in and out of fjords, rising and falling
gently, until it turned south, away from the sea for a few km.
Back to the sea, as we began to climb to the
Bocca di Serra, ANOTHER spoke broke - rear wheel but NOT on the
cassette side. We unloaded the rear panniers again and loaded up
Carol's bike and continued up and over the col, still
following the coastline. We climbed to the Bocca Basso and then had
an 8½ km descent over often-patched uneven pavement before
cruising the last 4 km into the quiet seaside village of Galéria.
(43 km; 34°C/93°F)
Day
17: There was no place to get the spoke repaired in
Galéria (and having experienced only one
broken spoke in 17 previous month-long bike tours in Europe, I
foolishly had brought no spares as I always did with my old
bike) so Carol unhappily loaded one set
of panniers on her bike. (It's been ten years since
she's ridden with panniers. After she slipped and broke her hip one
icy winter morning in 1994, I've been carrying everything on my bike
on our trips. With the 1994 broken hip, the 1999 broken pelvis -
another icy slip - and braces on both her knees, I'm doing all that I
can to keep her on the road.) With the
many curves, switchbacks, tour buses, etc., she was very nervous
about riding the loaded bike again. Once we returned to the main road
we began the 13 km serpentine climb to the Col de Palmarella. While
it was never very steep, the 36°C/97°F temperature made it
uncomfortable. I was passed by a string of older cyclists - yes, even
older than I am - all decked out in brightly coloured spandex and
helmets, carrying nothing on their expensive looking bikes.
As
I followed at my snail's pace I saw a pair of Bolle sunglasses lying
on the road so I picked them up. There was a great view from the
col to the tiny village of Girolata, far below on the coast.
Surprisingly, there are no roads into Girolata. It is only accessible
by the sea. I wonder how they built it. We continued on to the Col de
la Croix. About half way between the 2 cols there was a
source (a spring) gushing cold water from the mountain. I
drank about a litre on the spot and refilled my bottles. After the
descent from the col we had one last climb on fresh pavement
alongside a busy paving crew, rollers and all, noteworthy only
because ANOTHER spoke broke - number six for the trip - once again on
the outside left. The climb brought us to a great
view of the Golfe de Porto and the little town below. As we
descended into Porto I saw the group of cyclists who had passed me on
the hill. There were about a dozen of them all sitting at a table on
the terrasse of a restaurant noisily enjoying their lunch. I
stopped on the road beside them and held up the Bolle glasses which
produced an explosion of laughter and finger-pointing at one sheepish
looking guy. We had a glass of wine with them. (They asked where
we were from. I said "Canada". One said "Québec?" I said
"Non. Ontario." Another said "Toronto?" "Ottawa" I
said. From yet another: "Ah! La ville verte!" ('the green city') My
home town, Ottawa, Canada's capital, has a beautiful canal and a river flowing
through, both emptying into the broad Ottawa river, and both bordered by tree
lined parkways, all part of a network of parkways and cycle paths. It's a
beautiful city to visit, summer or winter (when the canal is transforrned into
the world's longest skating rink!)) They were all from the
Savoy region in the Alps near Grenoble. The wide Mercedes minibus
with the trailer parked across the street would take them, their
bikes and bags to their next starting point. They were doing a
selected group of 100 km per day rides on the island. Nice way to
travel. Porto turned out to be a strip of
newish hotels and restaurants ringing the port. I asked a guy at a
bike rental place if there was a bike shop in town. Non. Ajaccio,
Calvi or Corte were the closest - all more than a day's ride away. (63 km; 36°C/97°F)
Cargèse had spectacular displays of bougainvillea scattered through the town.
Day 18: Carol was very nervous about the panniers so, even though
she was willing to do it, I decided to load them all on to my bike
again. If spokes broke, so be it. We began, as usual, with a steep 11
km climb to Piana. I had forgotten to fill my water bottles in town
so I was very fortunate to find a source
about 5 km up the mountain. It's so discouraging during these climbs
back and forth up the face of a mountain to look up perhaps 100
metres above and see, through an opening in the trees, a car that
passed you a couple of minutes earlier still climbing. It was
HOT - 38°C/100°F !!
After climbing for about an hour and a half, we finally levelled off
at Les Calanche, a chaos of red rock
cliffs and rocky outcroppings. There were swarms of tourists there,
many of them from the tour buses that stopped to disgorge them.
Despite that, it is a spectacular site. We continued on to Piana
where we picked up some lunch stuff. Nice church there.
Carol fell inexplicably as we were cycling up out of town. No damage
done except for a little 'road rash' on one knee and a big bruise on
her butt. She still can't figure out what happened. We climbed from
the village to the Col de Lava from where we had a lovely 11 km
descent on a wide smooth road.
For
the first couple of km there was a wide deep valley on our right with
some small mountains blocking our view to the sea. We crossed over
and the valley was on our left, still descending, passing a few goats
munching at the edge of the road, until we bottomed out and began the
easy 3 km climb to the Col de Torraccia. Then 2 km down, 2 km up and
we were into Cargèse (pronounced CAR ZHEZ). There are two beautiful
churches about 100 metres apart, facing each other in
Cargèse: one Roman Catholic, one Greek Orthodox. Both are
brightly decorated and ornamented within.
In
1676 a group of Greek refugees, expelled by the Turks, were granted
land at the site of Cargèse by the sympathetic Genoese rulers
of Corsica. The colony prospered and now, more than 300 years later,
there is still a significant Greek community in Cargèse. It's
a pretty little town with the streets in the older area narrow and
curving, characteristic of a village of that age. There were some
beautiful gardens with lots of flowers. We had a nice
view of the Golfe de Sagonne and the little port of
Cargèse from the balcony of our hotel. It was a very tough
start to the day but a lovely finish. (34 km;
38°C/100°F)
Day 19: For the first time on Corsica we began the day with a descent - a nice smooth 2 km ride. The next 20 km was a series of gentle climbs and descents as the road curved in and out, following the coastline of the beautiful Golfe de Sagonne. We picked up our groceries in Sagonne. For the next few km the gulf was rimmed with beaches, some of them sandy, for those interested in beaches. (I'm not.) We turned from the gulf and began the very steep 7 km climb to the Col de San Bastiano, about 400 metres above us. At 37°C/99°F and with no shade it was probably the most difficult climb of the trip. However, at a few points on the climb we were granted some beautiful views of the gulf below. There was a bar at the col and we guzzled water with our cold drinks. Then we had two long fast descents before getting entangled in Ajaccio's gridlocked traffic. There was a bike shop a few blocks from our hotel and he had the two broken spokes replaced in an hour. He described the broken spokes as 'tendre'. (52 km; 37°C/99°F)
Day 20:
Our
ferry (oops - 'cruise ship') wasn't sailing until 7 PM so we had the
day to tour Ajaccio. This is where Napoleon was born so there are
statues and paintings and streets and
squares all praising the emperor. After breakfast we walked into
the old area of the city to the cathedral and by the
house where Napoleon was born. At about 11 AM Carol was still
looking for a not too trashy souvenir of Corsica so I said I'd check
in with the Corsican Ferries office to find out where and when we had
to be to get ready to board the ship that evening. When I went to the
counter and handed the guy my e-tickets he said the ship wasn't
sailing because they were on strike!! "Non!!" said I.
"Oui." said he. What are my alternatives? "The 'Danielle
Casanova' sails at 9 AM tomorrow. I'll change your tickets for you." (The 'Danielle Casanova' was from a different company
which was not on strike.) So, tickets changed, I raced
back to find Carol and we rushed back to our hotel to see if they had
a room available for us. "Complet, monsieur. Je suis
désolé." (Sorry, we're
full!) So we scrambled around and finally found a hotel with a
room for us - the Hotel Napoleon, of course - a little out of our
normal price range but these were not normal circumstances. We phoned
to cancel the next 2 nights accommodation in Aix-en-Provence and
Vauvenargues and tried to figure out what we could salvage from our
last few days in France. I bought 4 cans of Pietra beer (the one made with chestnut flour) to bring
home for 4 friends and Carol continued her search for the perfect
Corsican souvenir. (It must not say "Corsica"
on it, yet it must immediately evoke Corsican memories for her. I
think she should bring back a broken spoke!) The expensive
hotel even charged us 8 euros for storing our bikes in their garage
overnight.