Now in the routine. Wake by 5, pack the bag and roll up the tent. Fill water and fix breakfast (macaroni cheese from a dried packet).
All morning, watched over by the eye in the cliff.
Sunrise on the last stage.
Overall, this was a long steady descent. There were some highlights, a nice Boccu, ponds to swim in. But generally, with lowering altitude came higher temperatures.
The best bit was the rock pools on the river. Cascade de Punta Pinzuta. This was the only time I actually swam in a river on the Vignt.
Right at the end, there’s a spring (source) under shady trees. It was most refreshing, especially as there was a German couple doing the same thing. They went ahead and I stopped for another drink and to pee. Doing that, I disturbed a grass snake.
I need a rest day but the schedule doesn’t allow. Instead, I’ll take a short day. This is less than three hours. Paliri is a mountain refuge with fine views of the crags and sea.
As I was early, I got one of the best pitches nestled between rocks. Clothes were washed and I bought more fabulous cheese.
A long slog through the forest low route. There were constant obstacles like fallen trees and streams to negotiate. I walked with the Czech women to begin with but they were faster and wanted the high variant route. There were Robles of thunder and long spells of light rain, so I decided against that.
I was so desperately tired on getting to the village. The last bit was a steep climb and some light scrambling , which I wasn’t in the mood for. Soon, on the col, there were signs of civilization, signposts and maintained land. I padded onto the road and looked for anywhere open.
There was a ‘refuge’, more a restaurant really. So I walked up and asked some smokers whether they spoke English. One guy did , really well. He offered a dorm, a meal and breakfast for €42. Amazing, I was delighted and relieved. The food portion was large as was was my appetite. I was given a starter, aain and a cheese board to finish (much of which became my picnic for tomorrow).
A nice, grassy climb to the Bocca in fine conditions. This is another short route of less than 4 hours.
Bocca d’Asinau
The descent is the challenge today. It’s reputed to be one of the toughest on the 20. It poses real problems once I lost the markers.
Bocca du Stazzinara,
I zigzagged and returned from dead ends. There were some very tricky down-scrambles and I got stuck on alder woods. Eventually, there was cow dung. Then another, so I followed them if cattle can get to this part, they can get out. Before long, a red/white marker! Phew.
Another storm. I got lucky when it hit me I was already having coffee in the Bergerie. The staff were delightful there.
Lookin through the window in Basseta; pencil sketch from my journal.
The staff were lovely, very welcoming. I had something to eat and a nice coffee. That was before the thunder rumbled and the downpour began. I wrote in my journal and chatted to some French guys. When the rain got heavy, I drew. The bar owner became really interested. I showed her photos of my paintings on this phone. She was lovely about it, all interested.
A couple of Czech women arrived all wet through. One was a medic. And the pile of rucksacks got bigger and bigger.
Later, we were told we couldn’t stay any longer, there was some booking they needed space for. I got ready to go. But another opportunity arose. A guy in a delivery van offered a lift to Crocci. I said oui as did the French guys and the two Czech women. That 5 of us, not counting the driver. It was a very bumpy ride on the dirt roads that meander over these hills.
Crocci. It was still raining when we arrived. They have a sheltered area under canvas where some were hanging up kit to dry. I booked in and paid for supper and breakfast too. In the covered seating area, there was enough space to thread the poles of my tent ready to pitch. This way, I can set the tent without the inner getting wet. This worked (and some others copied the idea).
Broadly speaking, this was a ridge walk. I. Detail, the route regularly swapped sides and sometimes crested the apex of the ridge while the direction remained fairly straight.
I found myself walking with a very young solo Czech girl. She was very pleasant and seed contented to travel with somebody. My pack was heavier than usual, possibly 20kg. This slowed me down considerably, especially on climbs. Worse, water was difficult to find.
Then the refuge came into view after a sharp climb. This was a hot day too. The refuge guardiene was very friendly, I checked in and he pointed out the shop. That container was a cornucopia. I bought cheese.
Usciolo is a refuge nestling between rocks and the tent clearings were widely scattered between large boulders. I got myself a decent patch and set up. Buying a meal in the Bergerie would be a bad idea because I needed to eat some of the heavier food from my pack. Whole preparing it, I got chatting to a woman from a small party who were heading north. She too was Czech (as were her companions). Her husband had worked in the Lake District and his English was also very good. I sat with them to eat which was very pleasant.
Hit a problem. I felt I’ll in the night as though something I’d neaten or drank. That’s the polite was of saying repeated visits to the toilets. If it doesn’t last long, it’s something eaten. If it persisted, I’ll camp at Col de Verdi. If it clears, them go on another couple of hours to Refuge de Prati.
Col de Verdi is at the end of a forest descent stage. The route passed through forest, then a hotter clearing with an appealing fromage Bergerie and a river bridge over swimmable water. Signs of civilization appeared with day walkers and a car-park (with useful signposts). Soon I was at the refuge only to find the German couple Ellie and David drinking coffee. They were in good spirits and set off before me.
After tanking up at the spring by the road, the forest climb was very steep. Notice a pattern? An hour or two up to a lovely col (Boccu d’Oro) and soon – Prati in cooler air that somehow reminded me of UK hiking. The cloud was building on the west side of the ridge (as it often does). Though dense in parts, it wasn’t in a story mood. Soon, Prati was in easy sight
Ruined tents at Prati.
When I got there, I found Roland, the ESA guy and lots of ruined tents. He had a dorm booked. Some tents were occupied which must have been sheltered by low shrubs. It is quite a scattered refuge with a few toilet blocks way downhill. In the main building, I found a nice friendly Berger who I paid for the camping and bought some food. I elected to have pizza for supper but didn’t need any breakfast.
Start in the bunkhouse at Vizz’. The Germans asked if I slept well, I smirked saying “somebody slept well”. There was a middle-aged guy who snored right from the start, all night. I normally sleep well in the first half of the night, then lightly later. This guy changed all that. To be honest, I normally sleep better in my tent. Anyway, I waited for a late start while the last of the rain ran out. There was another storm overnight, and we saw and heard it. But sheltered, we felt safe.
I set off at 10am and climbed up through the forest. Ok, so I missed a turn and had to return but it wasn’t far. I was ‘told’ by a young French woman (they do this quite readily). I thanked them.
Eventually, I got out of the trees and saw Roland. He’s a guy who works for ESA, the European Space Agency making chips for satellites. He’s an interesting guy who seed quite quiet at first but was very cheerful after a few days. He was sitting at a spring so I sat with him for a while as I drank the most delicious water.
Briefly, I heard English voices, a couple were making their way up to the Bocca. We chatted for a bit, they were from London.
The Bocca was a lovely place with suit stones that forms a nice armchair. I must have sat there for well over an hour, fixing my sandwiches and drawing. Lovely. It wasn’t a long day and not too hot so I could afford to.
From Bocca Palmente (1670m) east
I could see the med and a harbour (that would be visible for the next few days). A lovely, peaceful, contemplative time.
The last part of the trail.leading up to Capanelle was fiercely steep but at least I had and easy approach leaving enough energy for it.
The refuge was an independent site associated with a ski resort. I felt a but deflated by it to be honest. It didn’t have the vibe of the others being more like Asco. It was cheaper though (€8 for camping) and I got a decent pizza for supper. The French couple were there doing the same thing. The Germans didn’t turn up until late, they’d need advised to hold on for the bad weather to finish. There was no need really.
The Cumbrian family set off a good hour before me. I was on-time though. Once ready, off I went onto the col (Boccu). Once on the Boccu, we go south passed trees onto a ridge. This is where the thunder developeda. I was cautious but several passed me more boldly. I asked “is it safe?” To a few who went by. “we’re going to see what it’s like and maybe come back” said one group. Another replied with “it’s a Corsica tradition” (that didn’t impress me). I remained hesitant.
Before we set off, little did we know….
Then the situation changed rapidly. Several groundstrikes hit summits across the valley very quickly. Immediately afterwards, it grew darker and the wind picked up. There were deep roars followed by strong gusts that smelt different. The air was different as the mood changed. Next came two merged groups descending quickly. I was back at the trees by now wriggling into my raincoat. They passed and a young French woman said “it’s too dangerous” and a guy – ” get away from the trees”. I was moving now. They said “don’t use your sticks” and “switch off your phone”!
journal sketch; getting down.
I did both, and walked down crouched with my shortened poles held horizontally. Now, the sky turned blacker and angrier. It’s getting serious. The sky is very angry. It’s 8 and it’s as dark as 10pm. Those gusts were full strength pulling my rucksack over to the right. Rain beat down making the rocks you could trip harder to see. Against a blackened background, white tattered clouds raced upwards over the col just as I got off the crest of the col.
Journal sketch; off the ridge.
I got onto a track and found myself with a French guy (Paul). He shouted over the fury – “we stick together”. We both had.to cower to grab a rock each time the 2 second warning roared. That’s the time between the sound and the full blast would hit. The track was a river by now, overtopping our boots. Eventually, the hut was visible. Anotjer guy came out from underneath and shouted “give me your bag”! I wrestled it off and passed it as I dropped off my poles. Next I was under the refuge with about 10 others.
There was a wooden overhang above us as we sat on the ground. At least we were sheltered. Water ran in streams between the planks as I sat. One of the women told me to turn over my bag. It had the rain cover, but true – the water was pouring straight onto the back. I pulled over my pack to put on a down jacket and turned it rain cover upwards.
Then I sat and looked. Ten of us, all looking out. All shocked but the sky calming. I said, somewhat overcome “I’m having the time of my life“. One guy ventured out to check the building to see if it was really locked. It’s open! Quickly we all shuffled round the back and went inside. When I got in, most were stripping off to hang up clothes to dry. There were bunks in the darkness but I found a light.
Sheltering in the Refuge. Something strange happened. Some had maps spread out on the table, some were drying clothes, otyher stended to the log burner and I was writing in my journal. Once sentence was not completed. There was a loud thumping bang, the door blew open on the stove and the room was filled with soot. We all dashed outside onto the balcony. It smelt of propane. There was no flash as the propane didn’t ignite. Inside there were pieces of metal is the tubes from the flue and the rains of a camping gas can. It was misshapen with the base blown off. You can see it in the photo).
‘The bomb’
In the Bergerie, most of us bought coffee. The sun came out and we had a plan. Rumours were that another storm would hit in the afternoon. We had a low level route, mostly in forest. Some were worried about falling trees but I thought it unlikely.
After some discussion, I decided on a variant route that takes you over a ridge and some light scrambling. The route is shorter than the main GR20, but offset that against the time taken to scramble a chain of summits
I really enjoyed this day, the scrambles were in no way spoilt by the light rain. Once on the western side of the ridge, the going was easy descent. After a turn the refuge is visible on the distance below.
The camp is coralled by fences (to protect the site from wild pigs). Inside – grass! So far, we have pitched tents on fine gravel so this felt like luxury. Fixed tents lined the edges and I put mine in the middle-right. The shop made decent coffee and marvelous very hard cheese (made on site). It’s perfect mountain cheese, this stuff doesn’t melt, weep or go off in the heat. And it was hot. I laid myself out in shade while a German couple did wild contorted stretches next to me.
Micycle 