MOTORHOME TRAVELLERS' DIARY FOR JULY 1998

CORSICA

Barry and Margaret Williamson

01 JULY 1998 F CAMPING LE SOLEIL, TATTONE, VIVARIO

An early start on Alf, who took us past Vizzavona station, towards the Col, and parked himself at 8.45 by the Sentier des Cascades, a track into the Forest of Vizzavona. We walked a broad footpath for the first mile through the dense shady forest of beech and fir, then joined the GR20 long-distance (173 km) trail by a bridge and continued, steeper and stonier underfoot, through the ancient woodland (some trees up to 800 years old), dangerous to cross because of brigands until this century (travellers were advised to make a will first!). It was perhaps another mile to the Cascade des Anglais, following and crossing the tumbling stream of the Agnone with its many small falls. We were the only Anglais - in fact we saw no-one until 10.30, when we began to climb the foothills of Monte d'Oro and met the first of several small groups coming towards us who were walking half of the GR20 in earnest.

They had come through the mountains from Calenzana, near Calvi, in 9 days, carrying all their kit, and would finish today at Vizzavona (well placed for a train back to Calvi). Today they'd walked from the Refuge de l'Onda, leaving at 5.30 am while it was cooler, to climb for 2 hours before their descent. Mostly young and French, but there were some 'seniors' and we admired their spirit. We continued uphill, high above the tree-line, pausing for squash and buns and to cool our feet in the deliciously icy rock pools, meeting more serious walkers coming down (including an Australian woman) and a small herd of mountain pigs. The views were magnificent, with pockets of snow which only melt in August. After 3 hours, with the crest of the ridge still way above us, we decided to return, as we'd only intended to walk to the Cascade and hadn't packed a lunch! The descent took 2½ hours more, reaching Alf at 2.15 and we were soon home for a good meal.

Pierre, the campsite Patron, invited us to join him to watch the England/Argentina world cup match on his satellite over a beer (the reception on our TV being very poor among these mountains). It was kind of him but we had to decline - either or both would have sent us straight to sleep! (England lost on penalties.)

The intensely hot weather was relieved today by a strong breeze off the mountains. In fact we've been lucky (so far), as we heard on the radio that the heatwave has been extreme in Greece, where 7 have died, and southern Italy with 9 dead in temperatures up to 47ºC/116ºF. There are also forest fires in Sicily and Sardinia, described as the worst this century! Fire is a constant summer hazard in these islands, with tinder-dry maquis and all the trees, but Corsica does have more water and Pierre assures us the Corsicans/French are better organised than the Italians at fire prevention and control, adding that the last fire here was 5 years ago - very comforting!

Barry worked on the Starwriter all day, finishing the 'Taxing and Testing' section and updating 'Motorhome Insurance' with the new details from Comfort, for the MMM A-Z series - positively the last work on that (?) We also wrote various letters concerning shipping a vehicle to the USA, documentation, banking and visa requirements, etc. Margaret was busy cleaning, cooking, trying to ring mum and talking to Pierre, who gave us 2 lettuces from his garden!

The wind had dropped enough to ride and we were off early again before the sun gained strength, leaving at 7.25 for the short but steep serpentine climb to the Col de Sorba, 1311 m/4300 ft. After 1 hr 20 mins we were at the top, the bright sunshine a contrast to our first crossing of this Col, from the other side, in the blizzard of Easter 91 (or even our recent ascent from Ghisonaccia on a cool 14 June). By 9.30 we were down again, sitting in Rosie drinking coffee and feeling much fitter for our climb of 510m/1700 ft from the campsite.

Margaret rang mum, who is safely back from Harold's, then we went into Vivario, the nearest village 4 miles away, to post our letters. Photocopying, launderette and supermarket will need a trip to Corte.

In the afternoon we checked and printed the June diary and M started July while B fixed various worn items - namely, his walking boots and reading glasses needed superglue (too much walking and reading?) and his new cycle pedals had proved too small and were swapped for Margaret's. Wrote to Canadian High Commission, AA and RAC about visas, carnets, etc.

04 JULY 1998 F CAMPING LE SOLEIL, TATTONE, VIVARIO

In which Alf takes us into Corte and to the Restonica Gorge roadhead

Splendid weather again, high daytime temperatures of 80/90° which drop a bit at night - down at the coast it would be too hot and sticky to sleep. In Corte we photocopied the June diary, posted more mail, located a good supermarket and launderette by the HR Hotel for our next visit, and found both the Tourist Information and the Forestry Office closed at weekends (of course), so bought a large scale map at a bookshop to plan more walking and cycling routes.

Corte is at the centre of the island, in a mountain cirque at the confluence of the Restonica and the Tavignanu Rivers, which have both cut splendid glacial gorges through France's biggest Natural Park. The old town is crowned by the Citadel, built in 1419 and reconstructed in the 18thC when Corte briefly became the capital. Pasquale Paoli, the 'Father of the Nation', led Corsica to independence from Genoa in 1755 and founded a university in his new capital. The republic ended in 1769 (the year Napoleon was born), Corsica was invaded and taken over by France and before long Napoleon moved the capital to his native town of Ajaccio. The university (the only one on the island) was reopened in 1981 and now has about 3000 students (all of whom seem well schooled in Graffiti). Enough history.

Before returning, we rode Alf the 10 miles to the top of the Restonica Gorge road. It's a steep twisting single track road (unsuitable for anything larger than a car), climbing the valley up to 1370 m (4,500 ft) through an exceptional landscape of pine trees and streams and ending in a car park at the Bergeries Grotelle sheepfolds. The stone huts and enclosures used by the shepherds for cooler summer pastures are still there, but now selling refreshments, including cheeses brought up to them by van on the road which was originally a mule track made by the shepherds to bring their cheeses down to market! From the Bergeries hiking trails lead higher still to Lake Melu (the source of the Restonica, 1½ hours away) and beyond to Lake Capitellu (Corsica's deepest, frozen for 8 months of the year) eventually joining the GR20. But now it was past noon and too hot to think of walking - perhaps another day with an early start.

We returned home for a snack and a siesta, followed by reading, writing, showers, cooking, taping the spotlight covers, which are cracking in the heat like Alf's windscreen, and eating later as the evening cooled. Keeping Mediterranean time makes sense in this climate.

After having his split windscreen taped and glued, Alf gave us a start to Canaglia village, 3 miles north-west, and we left him at 8.30 to walk the forest footpath along the gorge, climbing gently by the tumbling stream of the Manganello. This route is part of the Northern Coast to Coast Walk (Moriani-Plage to Cargèse). Clear blue sky glimpsed through the tall pines, solitude, birdsong, plenty to drink and a good map. After an hour the path met the GR20 and divided, the left fork climbing hard to the Refuge de l'Onda and the right continuing up the Manganello to the Bergerie de Tolla and on to the Refuge de Petra Piana. We bore right, across the stream on a footbridge and past the Bergerie. This was a smallholding with pigs, goats and donkeys deep in the forest, offering drinks, bread, cheese and omelettes, but we were carrying enough to eat, as well as Barry's lightweight boots in case the leather ones he's breaking in proved too hot (they did).

We met a few long-distance walkers heading for the refuge, including 3 teenage girls. When we asked where they'd come from yesterday they said 'Marseilles'! They'd slept on the ferry to Ajaccio, taken the train to our little station at Tattone and walked from there! We wished them luck (and wished we were younger - or at least, had known such adventures existed at their age). We walked till we reached a lovely waterfall at a point where the forest gave way to bare mountainside, rested and bathed our feet in the rock pools before turning for home. From the GR20 junction we took a forestry road back to Canaglia - not a short cut, but an easier surface - and rejoined Alf at 2.30 for a relaxing afternoon.

A domestic day which began with Alf taking our dhobi 15 miles to the launderette in Corte. We shopped in the precinct during the 45 mins washing (30FF in a self-service machine) and then rode a well-laden Alf back. The sun was strong and the wind even stronger, drying the clothes in minutes.

After lunch we wrote to mum and Barry fixed the dinette seat with some new brackets bought this morning. A Czech coach full of campers arrived at tea-time and they filled our area and the field below with their tents, the first of many we were to meet.

In Vivario we posted mum's packet and asked at the post office whether our Poste Restante could be forwarded from Bastia. Not possible, we were told, the post is on strike since last Thursday! (Our letter for England had just been stamped and put in a sack, and we'd seen a postman out delivering yesterday!) We managed to get the phone number for Bastia PO and rang them - no problem, they had 2 packets for us from Alan, and would send them to Vivario. What about the strike, we asked? Oh yes, they'll come slowly! (We assume it's some kind of work-to-rule, but Pierre at the campsite knew nothing of it.)

We cycled on, climbing over the low Col d'Erbajo at 920 m/3000 ft, a splendid quiet road with a view back over Vivario before a long level stretch through beech forest and then dropping to the delightful village of Vezzani. We relished a cup of coffee at the Bar of the 3 Graces, sitting outside by the fountain (adorned by a life-size bronze of the 3 Graces, forged in Paris - very grand for such a remote place, perhaps Paris had finished with it), then poked about the narrow lanes and looked at the medieval Pisan church. On the way back, once over the Col, we paused in the even smaller village of Muracciole to look at the war memorial. As usual, there was a long list from WWI, half the surnames being 'Muracciole', and a brief list from WWII with one 'Muracciole'. Most surnames in Corsica sound Italian in origin, as does the language of Corsu - Pierre calls it 'Latin'. The hardest stretch of the ride was the 4 mile climb out of Vivario and back to Tattone, taken in the full heat of the afternoon sun.

Later we made a fresh batch of lemon squash (consumed rapidly while walking and cycling in this heat). A second coach of Czechs arrived at tea-time camping right under our windows! Yesterday's lot had kept us awake singing till the small hours so we weren't feeling too friendly. Pierre intervened, tried to organise them and parked his Range Rover alongside Rosie to give us some space. Each bus only stays 2 nights, while they go walking, but it's a very popular island with Czechs, apparently.

Ajaccio, the capital, is 1½ hrs by train but less than 40 miles by road so, it being warm and sunny (when did it last rain?), we went on Alf. In our brief visit at the end of May, after going to Filitosa, we'd had no time to look for bookshops and surely there'd be a decent one there? Barry got some FF from the bank in readiness for a literary treat, the Tourist Information gave us a map and marked 3 bookshops on it, we parked Alf and eagerly walked the streets. Just one of the 3 shops had a single book in English - Dorothy Carrington's 'Granite Island' which we got on landing in Bonifacio. Nothing else, no guidebooks, walking books, novels, literature, newspapers, nothing! Our Lonely Planet Guide to Mediterranean Europe mentioned the book 'Walks in Corsica', published in London but "on sale in many Corsican bookshops". We had yet to find one! We tracked down the office of the Parc Naturel Régional de Corse to see what they offered - a few leaflets in French and nothing at all in English. They did have a reference copy of 'Walks in Corsica' which we could peek at - it looked excellent but they wouldn't sell it to us, saying we'd find it in the bookshops! And posting a letter to Comfort Insurance at the main PO in Ajaccio, we'd asked about the postal strike - they'd not heard of it! We admitted defeat, had a flask of coffee on the seafront and turned for home. The main Ajaccio-Corte road, like the railway, follows the Gravone river, climbing inland through the pretty village of Bocognano, then over the Col de Vizzavona, crossing the heart of this splendid island. We arrived at Tattone just as the 6 pm train pulled in. There are 4 trains a day each way and they run exactly to time.

Perfect weather now for walking and cycling, the intense heatwave has passed leaving it dry and warm with cooler evenings and always a breeze from the mountains. We used Alf to ride to the top of the Col de Sorba, ready for a ridge-walk through the Sorba forest. This had once been waymarked but was no longer signposted or much used. A few cairns and yellow stripes on trees remained but for most of the way good instincts, map and compass were required along this sometimes sharp undulating ridge. We saw no-one during the climb through dense beech and fir forest until after about 4 miles we met the well-worn path of the GR20 at the Bocca Palmente high above Vizzavona, from where it continues to the east coast. As we relaxed there, looking across to the coast near Ghisonaccia, a lone walker appeared, a local Corsican. The route back to the Col de Sorba seemed harder and longer and wearier but we eventually made it down to Alf. This had been more like 'real mountaineering' and left Margaret exhausted, but she recovered enough to make a chocolate cake for tea. Back at the campsite, 2 more Czech buses had arrived to replace the others!

A fine day for a good circular ride, setting out over the Col de Sorba. A jeep labelled Aventure Handicap towing a trailer of canoes pushed past on a narrow bend, forcing Margaret off the road, and for once we got chance to express our anger as the party had stopped on the Col to admire the view. They will think more carefully before overtaking cyclists in future, as we took their number and threatened to report them at the Gendarmerie in Ghisoni (but we didn't). After 7 miles' climbing came 7 even steeper miles down to Ghisoni, a splendid swooping descent, then down the familiar Défile des Strette, pausing for a coffee at a rustic auberge before racing through the tunnel and the Défile de l'Inzecca. Before the Sampolo dam we turned left, leaving the road down to the east coast behind as we climbed the very rough lane to join the back road which returns to Vivario through Vezzani and over the Col d'Erbajo. We stopped to eat our sandwiches in the hamlet of Pietroso and completed our lunch with ice creams at the Bar of the 3 Graces in Vezzani, after 50 km with 20 km to go.

We finally reached Tattone after 6½ hours of far-from-easy riding. But compared with hiking for 6 hours yesterday, cycling is certainly preferable - uphill effort is rewarded by downhill freewheel, you can carry far more liquid to avoid dehydration, and it's hard to get lost. Nor would we require a helicopter rescue if injured! Relaxing back at the campsite, a helicopter landed in the field below, returning a Japanese girl who had broken her ankle while hiking beyond the Bergerie de Tolla. She was one of 3 rescued today! We checked our travel insurance policy to see if air ambulance expenses would be covered, which depends on their definition of 'mountaineering' (excluded in a list of hazardous sports). We'll keep watching our footing.

Talking to Pierre about the helicopter, Margaret learnt that he'd served in Vietnam in WWII as a youngster and been injured in the arm. He proudly showed her his certificate of commendation on the parlour wall, then took her to the garden to choose more lettuces and courgettes. While we were out, he'd collected all the tables and chairs he provides round the site, stacked them in the barn and hung a Reserved sign on the door. We feared that the Czechs were planning an evening's knees-up, but quite the opposite - he'd confiscated them because one of his chairs had been broken by some Czechs enjoying themselves and he was fed up of complaints about the noise! They bring crates of Czech beer from home rather than spending any money in his bar, so why should he let them use his facilities? He promised they'd be gone tomorrow (though didn't say how many were on the way!)

After supper we began to watch 'Gone with the Wind', but sleep overtook us.

A relaxing day, starting with croissants from the bar (ordered the night before, at 4FF each, the same price as a thin baguette). Barry sorted more photographs and replaced the water filter cartridge (an annual job) as we were noticing specks of black carbon gathering at the bottom of the kettle (the old filter was breaking up). Margaret caught up on diary writing and MMM-reading and noticed that BJW got an honourable mention among the letters in May 98.

We asked about dumping facilities on the campsite (Rosie is getting full after 2 weeks here) and Pierre said he'd open a man-hole. It turned out to be almost inaccessible, behind the shower block and normally covered with earth, so Rosie had to manoeuvre as close as possible and then Barry transferred the waste by 7 bucketfuls up and down the steps. Hardly convenient. The Corsican regulations are obsessive in their banning of free camping, because of environmental and fire risks, yet of the 5 campsites we've used only one had any kind of chemical toilet emptying facility at all, let alone a full 'camper service' point of the kind common in mainland France. The afternoon peace was further broken by the arrival of 3 German camper-vans with a total of 5 young children. How we've come to dislike school holidays!

Today is apparently the British Grand Prix, the start of the Tour de France in Dublin (?!) and the final of the football world cup in Paris: France v Brazil. We are relaxing in the sunshine and pottering (cleaning, mending, baking rock buns to take up mountains and Yorkshire curd cakes to eat at home!) The Coupe du Monde match was popular in the Bar du Soleil and we could hear the roars and cheers for the goals - France won 3:0.

Cycled into Vivario (about 4 miles, mostly steep downhill), bought essentials at one of the 3 small stores and collected our mail - 2 packets from Alan which had been sent on from Bastia as requested. We learnt that the 'postal strike' was local to Bastia and now over.

The afternoon was spent going through the post. There were welcome letters from Martin Wiltshire, Celia & Stan, Christine Jarvis, Brian Anderson, Sally in San Francisco (complete with photos) and Bec & Kev in Mooroobool (!) Australia; less welcome ones from Sugden's and Turner's; the usual pile of stuff from Barclaycard and the Midland Bank; replies from Travelbag and the Inland Revenue; June's MMM with our 'South-east-enders' article about the Mani, and a couple of RV mags.

Turner's had written 3 increasingly urgent letters about approving an extra tenant, the first of which had just missed our last packet from Alan, so Margaret rang Mrs Shaw to impress on her the need to ring Alan and leave a message in emergency, and to deal sensibly with matters which (like this one) they could handle themselves. We hope we've not lost the 2 existing tenants because of the delay, but it's Turner's problem. We relaxed after all this business activity by watching another episode of 'Gone with the Wind'.

We woke to the unusual sound of rain on the roof (the first since 15 June). Although it only lasted a few minutes, it gave us an excuse for a day at home tackling the mail. Pierre told us that 14 July, though a public holiday, isn't celebrated in Corsica - besides, they're just recovering from Sunday's world cup celebrations! Between us, we replied to Martin, Turner's and Sugden's, and also contacted the MDA and the Australia/USA Consultant at MMM.

Later M rang Alan (just on his way out to an end-of-term dinner) to arrange sending mail to Vivario before he left for France next Friday. Finally, another instalment of 'Gone with the Wind', our last unseen video!

We called at Vivario PO to post all the letters, plus a cheque to Alan for post and mum's phone. Then on to Corte to explore the Tavignanu Gorge. The 50-mile long Tavignanu River is joined by the Restonica at Corte, then flows to the coast at Aleria, parallelled by the road. But uphill from Corte there is only a rough path for walkers and animals (unlike the Restonica Gorge with its narrow road), so Alf had to wait in the car park. Armed with corned beef sandwiches and rock buns we climbed the track cut into the hillside, stopping at a rock pool outside a disused bergerie for lunch. There were plenty of walkers out, some well laden school parties appeared to be walking the Mare a Mare Nord route coming down from the Refuge de Sega from where you can also get onto GR20 and walk to Lac de Nino, the river's source - what magnificent possibilities for mountain walkers. We were content to continue as far as the hanging bridge where the track crosses the river gorge, about half-way to the Refuge. It was a giddy feeling walking over a swaying bridge with some of its planks missing but we tested our courage before turning back.

Back in Corte we bought the entire stock of cold drinks in the Spar shop (ie 2 cans of fizzy orange and one of Liptons 'Fun Tea' - other walkers must have got there first!) But they did have a 30FF roast chicken with free bag of crisps and we called at the larger Casino supermarket for other supplies, then filled up with petrol (the nearest filling station to Tattone) and made our weary way home.

A day for pottering and shopping in Vivario. Mum's parcel of videos had arrived from Bastia, along with some more mail. Nice surprises were a letter from Flo and Mick and one forwarded via MMM from Patrick Phelan (he of the Sunsport, which we met last Christmas at Drepano and Sparta). He'd seen the piece about the Mani in the June edition, felt prompted to write but lost our address, so sent it to Mike Jago. He was hoping we might get together in Greece this winter. He may have to settle for the Aginara 4 (or 2)! Mum's films included Inspectors Morse and Frost, 'My Fair Lady' and 'Wuthering Heights'. Tonight we finished watching 'Gone with the Wind'.

We repeated the walk from Vizzavona, through the forest and past the Cascades, described on 1 July, but now armed with a packed lunch and more to drink, we hoped to reach the crest where the GR20 drops to the Refuge de l'Onda and mountaineers branch off to scale Monte d'Oro. Again we met small parties of dedicated long-distance hikers doing the GR20 and one hardy family descending from Monte d'Oro where they'd spent the night camped out (or bivouacé). We were well above our previous point of return when we stopped for lunch, then another 20 minutes scramble to the ridge, with a wonderful view all round including the by now legendary Refuge de l'Onda an hour or two below. A lone mountaineer told us we could reach the summit of Monte d'Oro in another 1½ hours but it was already after 2 pm and we'd forgotten our bivvy bags and ropes so we declined! We were very pleased to have reached this point. Returning, we knew we were within an hour of the car park when our solitude was broken by families having picnics, swimming and sunbathing by the Cascades. We reached Alf at 5.30 after an 8-hour, 8-mile day, in which we climbed (and descended) 3,300 ft, every one of them stoney, steep and dusty.

M did a few culinary and domestic tasks. B wrote letters to Patrick and Felicity Phelan (of the Sunsport), Mick and Flo (of the Kon-tiki), Midland Jersey (about missing bank statements and card confusion), and to PBF and Ramachandran on a possible trip to India.

First a superb ride on Alf, over Vizzavona and down through Bocognano towards Ajaccio. We turned right onto the quiet twisting country road D4 through Vero, climbing to 900 m, dropping again to the Cruzzini river then rising above it once more, to end after the hamlet of Chiusa. Here we met the Mare a Mare Nord Variante footpath and left Alf to walk along it following the Cruzzini upstream. It eventually meets the GR20 at the Refuge de l'Onda and continues to Canaglia. We went through the shady forest above the river bank for about 1½ hours, ate our lunch watched by a friendly herd of snuffling pigs and then returned. We met one (French) couple, who'd come from the Refuge. Few 'day walkers' are out in the mountains - we meet either long distance hikers carrying huge packs, or families playing near the car park.

It was 20 rural miles back to the main road and another 10 to Bocognano, with Alf getting low on petrol. (There is no filling station between Ajaccio and Corte, a distance of 47 miles along the main trans-island route!) At Bocognano it seemed he might make it back but the steep climb to the Col de Vizzavona was too demanding and Alf came to a thirsty halt half way up. We parked him in a scenic layby to enjoy the view and tried to hitch, or faire l'auto-stop. French cars don't seem to know this phrase or perhaps we've lost the knack. We did get one lift with a couple on holiday from Nîmes to the top of the col but they halted there for a walk to look at the sheep, and we had no more luck. We walked the last 5 miles back to the campsite in the evening sunshine, consumed 2 very large glasses of squash and a pot of tea, and explained our problem to Pierre and his wife. As soon as he understood he was in his Land Rover waiting for us and our can of spare petrol. He drove us over the col to Alf, waited to follow Barry back in case of further problem, and wouldn't hear of any payment for his petrol. What a genuinely nice man. What a genuinely exciting day!

Alf, none the worse for his ordeal, took us into Vivario to post Saturday's letters and on to Corte where we used the launderette and shopped in the adjacent supermarket. Of course, we filled up with petrol before leaving (a choice of two garages there!) Pierre explained that a little filling station/bar in Tattone had been closed since the young patron had died of a heart attack.

The sun and wind dried the dhobi in no time, this climate is magnificent! We talked to some new neighbours, retired Germans from Ludwigshafen in a small camper, who know Corsica well from 5 previous visits. Keen walkers, favouring Corsica, Austria and the Dolomites, they'd hiked and camped at the refuges when younger. They suggested one or two walks (though not the Venaco-Vivario route they'd attempted today, where the path petered out in shoulder-high prickly maquis). They also showed us a 'secret' spring 200 m down the lane, which will save buying bottled water in Corte. (The campsite tap-water is OK boiled for hot drinks but tastes chlorinated neat or in squash.) In return for this useful information, we lent them our MMM articles and they were delighted to see the photos in 'By Eck', and of places they knew in Italy, though they couldn't read much English beyond the captions.

Between Vivario and Venaco, by the site for the new road bridge over the Vecchio, below Eiffel's railway bridge, a minor road D723 serving a couple of Bergeries climbs steeply up for 5 miles through the wooded river gorge, narrow and unfenced but surprisingly well made. It ended at the beginning of a track, where we met our first 'transhumant', a shepherd in his pick-up truck who lives up there for the hottest 2 months of summer, taking his flock down to the east coast plain the rest of the year.

We left Alf with the sheep and walked the steep track, crossing the stream on stepping stone boulders, past a small wood and stone shelter clearly used by the bergers. Above the tree-line we passed the Bergeries de Gialghello where cattle were grazing round a collection of stone buildings, deserted but with new corrugated iron roofs replacing the turf ones. The track got steeper to the ridge of the Bocca Tribali (1590 m/5200 ft of which we'd climbed 560 m/1850 ft) where we ate our lunch and had astonishing views - the Ghisonaccia coastline shimmered in the haze behind us, while in front 3 buildings were dotted on the far mountainside. With the aid of the map we identified the nearest as the Bergerie de Muracciole. Beyond that the track meets the GR20 and passes the other 2 shelters we could see: the Bergerie de Gialco which had tents dotted round it and the Refuge de Petra Piana (1842 m/6000 ft) high above.

We continued to the Bergerie de Muracciole (presumably the high pastures for the village of that name near Vivario) and found it inhabited by a transhumant family, complete with French-speaking children. They had a couple of donkeys for bringing supplies up the path we'd taken, but they were busy working and none too talkative - perhaps they tire of walkers wanting food, water or shelter, though we asked for none of these. Beyond this point the path became more difficult, dropping to a waterfall at the GR20 junction, so we turned back, rejoining Alf after 6 hours in which we estimate we walked about 6 miles. A speed of 1 mph reflects how strenuous this terrain is, pausing every hour to drink.

Back at Camping Le Soleil the sun still shines and the school holiday season is beginning to fill the site with less like-minded campers. We found an Italian family had squeezed their camper van between Rosie and our German neighbours, then blocked any remaining space with a tent for their kids. We couldn't easily get Alf through to our door! They refused to move and we had to ask 'management' to intervene, who agreed to re-site them if they don't leave tomorrow. We rang mum to thank her for the new videos but had to leave a message.

The Italians are moved. The Caravan Club has a 20 ft rule for spacing vehicles because of fire hazards, we wish it could become an EU standard. We then took a favourite cycle ride from here, down to Vivario and up over the Col d'Erbajo to the charming village of Vezzani. Barry had noticed that petrol was sold there at the hotel, so we checked its opening hours - all day till midnight! We must bring the spare can to refill, as it's difficult to carry it back from Corte with the shopping and dhobi. As we sat by the fountain of the 3 Graces drinking our squash, a fish van from Ghisonaccia arrived, providing a fresh fillet to make fish pie for supper. The mobile shops keep these tiny villages supplied. In the little square outside the ancient church the travelling puppet theatre 'Guignol' was set up ready for the evening. We'd noticed it in Ajaccio and Corte already, touring the island for one night stands.

Climbing back to Tattone in the mid-day heat was hard and we were glad of the drinking fountain at Vivario. We no longer wonder whether the water is potable, as every other passing walker and cyclist drinks it, while motorists bring bottles to fill.

After lunch we talked to the couple from Ludwigshafen, who are leaving tomorrow on the Bastia-Savona ferry. They'd taken the more expensive superfast boat as all the others were fully booked when they bought their tickets in May. This was the Corsica Ferries line, they didn't know about Moby Line to Genova. If we are marooned here until the autumn, there are worse fates, but we realised the need to check the ferries soon!

Intending to walk a section of the GR20 from the Col de Verde, we set out on Alf with our hiking kit (walking sticks, rucksack, packed lunch, flask of coffee, 2 litres of squash, 1st aid kit, cash and phonecard, map and compass, sunglasses and eye-drops, 'Waspeze' and insect repellent - we know how to travel light!) But it was not to be. After a lovely hour's ride over the Col de Sorba we were climbing through the Marmano Forest towards the Col de Verde when Barry felt Alf's front tyre go flat. He reinflated it with an aerosol can of the get-you-home-foam, and it did! We actually had the right kind of puncture (that is, not a leaky valve or a split seam) and the stuff worked well. Back home Barrry was able to remove the wheel and change the inner tube, punctured by a staple which had somehow got through a good new tyre, fitted only 5 weeks ago. B also checked and cleaned the brakes, front and rear, which are put to some test in these mountains.

After lunch we took Alf to Vezzani to fill his petrol tank and the spare can at the hotel pump. In the village store we spotted smart matching peaked caps and belt-bags, in black with the Corsican Moor symbol, so Barry was kitted out.

Margaret rang Moby Line ferries who are busy but not sold out. In the lowest of their 3 price bands, they had space on the afternoon sailing next Monday or Tuesday, or the following Monday, so we decided to go for that (dep 3 August at 3.30 pm, arr Genova 10 pm) at a fare of £139.60 including port taxes and supplements for extra length and height. The most expensive fare, at weekends, was over £100 more. Moby wouldn't take telephone bookings so we rang the nearest agent in Corte. They wouldn't accept phone bookings either but were open till 7 pm, so in we went, only to find they couldn't confirm the ticket as the Moby office had closed at 6 pm! And we couldn't take our business elsewhere as they are the only travel agent in Corte! They promised to book our passage first thing tomorrow, on payment of a deposit, but we have to go in again in the morning to settle up, it can't be done with credit card numbers and telephones, even as we approach the 21st century!

Back at the campsite, the 'Guignol' puppet theatre had set up outside Tattone station, right above us, for a performance of Aladdin at 9 pm. Margaret walked up to investigate and found a small audience of under-10's and parents. The figures of Guignol/Aladdin and his mother were very reminiscent of Punch and Judy. It seemed a nice way of making a summer living, though we thought they might do better on the coast. The theatre was a large van which towed a caravan for the couple to live in, an electrical hook-up (in this case from our campsite) being all they needed. We could certainly hear the proceedings without paying 30 FF each, and we soon tired of Aladdin's mum's voice! Instead we watched our new 'Touch of Frost' video (actually an early repeat, but we enjoyed it, with the excellent characterisation of Horn-rimmed Harry et al).

Back to the travel agents in Corte to confirm and buy a Moby Line ticket. Then to the Spar shop in the same street for a succulent poulet rôti with free crisps, and to the Casino supermarket for other supplies. A motor accessory shop equipped us with a new spare inner tube and a can of puncture repair foam for Alf and, after another fill of petrol, we hoped he would now behave responsibly!

Back home for an afternoon's word processing - B wrote to Stan and Celia and M worked on the diary, but when it came to printing we found the ink had dried up again in the current heatwave. We have acclimatised better than the Starwriter!

A superb day's walking at high altitude in brilliant sunshine, which turned us even browner than before. Alf rode flawlessly for 1½ hours, over the Col de Sorba and up to the car park on the Col de Verde, where we left him at 10 am. This is one of the rare points where the GR20 actually crosses a road with easy access to food and shelter, and we aimed to walk east and south along it towards the Refuge de Prati. It was one of the most varied and beautiful of our Corsican treks, starting along a rough road we shared with a pair of mountain bikers but soon turning into a forest footpath, climbing steeply through the forest and up the bare hillside to the ridge of the Bocca d'Oru, marked with a huge cairn and a sign giving its height of 1840 m/6036 ft. (Our starting point had been at 1289 m/4229 ft.) There was a breathtaking view of the east coast, a glider was circling overhead, the air was heady. No wonder the 2 young Englishmen we'd met coming down were in such high spirits, after walking from the eastern end of GR20 at Conca.

They told us the Refuge de Prati was now roofless after a fire but it was only another kilometre from the Bocca along a reasonably level ridge path, a good goal for lunch. It was burnt out, a substantial stone shell and 6 solar panels from recent improvements remaining. But there was still running spring water, space for tents and bivvies, and shade in which to sit and eat. At 1820 m/5971 ft, we'd not lost much height from the Bocca, but the path continued for 1 km up a higher ridge soaring above to 1998 m/6555 ft. Reluctant to come down from these magnificent high places we walked on, past some alpine cattle scratching for grass, the flowers long dried out. We reached the crest of the ridge and were rewarded with bird's eye views of the hill villages of the Fiumorbo and the coastal plain to the east, and Zicavo to the south. Good memories of cycling to Paradise Rooms and beginning to get a feel for this island.

We retraced our steps down to the refuge, with its welcome water, back over the Bocca d'Oru and into the forest, startling a few lizards and pretty butterflies but seeing no animals. We'd climbed about 750 m/2500 ft but didn't feel weary, we must be getting fitter. Returning on the Col de Sorba road we stopped to drink at a spring where a motorist pulled up, picked 3 leaves from a chestnut tree and expertly folded them into a cup for himself! Une tasse verte we agreed. The local people certainly know and use these springs, though some are drying to a trickle now in high summer.

We were back at 6 pm (the last train to Bastia was in the station) and Beanfeast veg curry, peaches and ice cream never tasted so good! We ended a perfect day by watching the bits at the end of the Inspector Frost tape: several decapitated news programmes, the end of 'The Scold's Bridle', an exerpt from Clive James, and various commercials and trailers - all interesting, each recorded over by something more recent, like peeling layers of wallpaper.

Yesterday there were 3 Czech buses on the campsite (2 of them full of cyclists) but all are gone this morning. Another group of Dutch walkers supported by the 'Sindbad' minibus arrived to occupy the meadow just below us in their place. Most of the campers are French, a few Italian, Dutch or Austro-German, even a couple of Belgians, but still no English.

Barry worked on the Starwriter printhead and persuaded it to print again, though the water-based ink doesn't like the heat. Margaret got the diary up to date and rang mum, who offered to get the mail from Alan's and post it to Bastia tomorrow. We tried to make some plans for the coming months but realised we still lack the information needed for decisions about India, America, Australia, whatever, so will await replies in the post. Meanwhile, it's splendid here and it's raining in England!

Still very hot and the pockets of snow up on Monte d'Oro have all but disappeared. At 2389 m/7837 ft, it's Corsica's 5th highest peak, dominating the skyline from Vivario to Vizzavona, a wonderful backdrop to our campsite.

We parcelled up 6 videos to return to mum with a letter and also wrote to the Editor of MMM from 'Anne Brown (Ms) of Blackpool' in response to David Berry's dreadful sexist 'Have Computer - Will Travel' in May's edition. Posting all these in Vivario after lunch we got a packet of mail from Alan - a Barclaycard fee statement each, a letter from Turners that our tenants have given notice (we've already written to them on that, after ringing Mrs Shaw) and, the best bit, a Greek postcard from Dick and Audrey which made us want to return. They'd managed 11 islands in 2 weeks: Crete (including the Samarian Gorge), Santorini, Rhodes, Kos, Bodrum (Turkey), Paros, Delos, Mykonos, Aegina, Poros and Hydra. They'll be in England for the summer, then go to meet their son in Paris in September, their daughter in Barcelona in the fall, and back to Florida in Dec/Jan.

Inspired by this itinerary, we got down to completing our income tax returns for the year ended April 98, to avoid the rush when we left the job until December last year. They were fairly straightforward, even though we've dispensed with the aid of an accountant who cost more than he saved.

A good ride on Alf to the 1289 m/4230 ft Col de Verde (under 1½ hours, no punctures) where we left him parked behind the refuge/cafe at 9.50. We set out along the GR20 westwards, walking a fairly level path for the first hour through magnificently tall pine forest. One Sapin géant (Laricio or Corsican pine) was labelled with its girth and height, at 53 m/174 ft thought to be the tallest in Europe. Meeting the Marmano river, the trail crossed a precarious sway-bridge, though we forded the stream and jumped across the boulders. Veering right, we zig-zagged up the mountainside and above the forest to Gialgone where the path divided. The red & white marked GR20 continued to the Refuge of Capannelle at the ski station, but we turned left and followed a track marked by cairns and orange splodges to the Bergeries de Pozzi near which we sat by a stream with our sandwiches.

The bergeries appeared to be working, with cheese for sale, though there were only 4 dogs and a horse to greet us. Beyond the rough dwelling and sheepfolds the path emerged onto a vast watermeadow, green and marshy, scattered with tiny lakes connected by winding brooks. There were a few cattle trying to find shade in the scrubby alder bushes and several groups of young people having picnics. It was a real contrast to the shady forests or dry stony tracks of our previous walking. This was more like British peat bog under Mediterranean sunshine.

We crossed to the far end of the Pozzi meadows where a tall narrow waterfall feeds the streams. Barry pioneered a route up the rocks to emerge above it and we saw that a steep path did continue over a ridge. It was now 1.30 pm, though, so we wound our way back down to the bergeries. From here we found an alternative return path, marked with cairns but obviously less used, a good short cut joining the GR20 route back at the sway-bridge. We relaxed here with the last of our squash and chocolate knowing there was only an hour of shady forest to go. We reached the Col de Verde at 4.15 pm, after a 2000 ft climb to a very different landscape, painted by a glacial lake in watercolours.

Alf took us safely home, stopping to drink at the spring below the Col de Sorba where 4 Sapeurs Pompiers were having a break (but not a smoke!). Making a detour to Vivario for fruit, we noticed smoke hanging in the air north of Corte, the direction from which the wind is blowing. It had actually been quite cool and cloudy in the mountains by late afternoon and we got home at 6 pm feeling almost cold! We were soon warmed and fed and rewarded ourselves with the beginning of the new 'Wuthering Heights' video.

Away at 9 am for a short but exhilerating ride to the top of the Sorba Pass, taking 1 hr 15 mins up without a break, then a good drink of spring water and 30 mins back down. Only 7 miles each way but what views, what memories, it holds, especially that 1700 ft descent first ridden in an electric blizzard. A pair of Red Kite were again circling above Tattone, their forked tails very distinctive.

Revived by coffee, we did the covering letters to go with our tax returns and B wrote to Martin Wiltshire with an E-mail we hope he can send to Dick and Audrey.

After lunch B serviced Alf (new sparkling plug) while M made more lemon squash (with spring water from along the lane), millionaire's shortbread (for those who can't afford French pâtisserie prices) and chocolate ice cream (as we can't get it home from the shop before it melts). The weather is hot again after last night's cold wind, the campsite is busy, even without Czech buses, and Pierre is happy playing boules with the local regulars at his bar (many of them the 'walking wounded' from the nearby sanitorium).

As we've been here a month (which must be a record, apart from wintering at Ionion Beach) we checked with Pierre that his fees hadn't risen for high season. He assured us that we can stay as long as we like at the original price of 67 FF (£6.70) including electricity and that he doesn't want any payment until we leave. In the light of this, we reconsidered our plan to sail for Italy next Monday, since we doubt we could find such a savagely beautiful centre for walking and cycling in Europe at any price! We decided to visit the travel agent in Corte again tomorrow.

Back to Cyrnea Tourisme, the travel agent, to change our Moby Line ferry tickets from 3 August. The low-rate crossings were fully booked until 2 September, which suited us well. There was no fee from Moby Line, though Cyrnea charged a £5 admin fee for one phone call and altering the date on our ticket in biro! While in Corte (the only town within easy reach) we also visited the supermarket, bookshop and launderette. This meant another poulet rôti + crisps, a generous specimen which was to provide us with a roast dinner, a curry dinner and a sandwich lunch, all for 30 FF.

Faced with the delightful prospect of another month to explore we bought a 3rd map in the IGN 1:25000 series covering the Corsican national park, and also The Rough Guide to Corsica, the only guidebook available in English. We'd have liked a Michelin Green Guide (seen in French, Italian and German) but were told it wasn't published in English (not enough demand). We bought a present to return Pierre's kindness - a new monthly magazine called Sanglier Passion (Sanglier = Wild Boar), full of gory articles, such as how the taxidermist mounts your trophies, alongside photographs showing the mother sanglier raising her family of sweet little suckling piglets! It had a special feature on the Corsican wild boar: Le Seigneur du Maquis or U Cignale in Corsican. We thought of Pierre as soon as we saw it. We resisted buying a tabloid magazine with a headline declaring that Princess Diana wasn't buried on her island at all, but had been cremated! Lastly we filled Alf's tank and can and rode him back 'fully loaded' - shopping in the back box, petrol can in the front basket, M wearing a rucksack full of dhobi, and a chicken on the handlebars (going Cheep!)

After lunch there was the dhobi to hang out, the squash to bottle and a new map and book to be pored over. Sunny days we thought would never end. We also rang Comfort Insurance to renew Alf's cover, which runs out next week (4 August), and Bastia post office to arrange for the mail from mum to be forwarded to Vivario on arrival, now we're staying longer. That system is efficient and free of charge.

Later we watched the rest of 'Wuthering Heights': hauntingly romantic.

A short ride on Alf to Canaglia (not a village, just a bar, dogs and a few animal pens) where we set out at 9.05, walking for an hour up the forestry track to the junction of the Mare a Mare Nord Variante and the GR20. A good place to pause for a drink by the icy clear rock pool before bearing left on GR20, up through the beech and pine forest towards the Refuge de l'Onda. (Turning right across the stream, it leads to the Bergerie de Tolla and, eventually, the Refuge de Petra Piana, a direction we'd taken previously on 5 July.) We met a few hardy long-distance walkers with huge packs coming down from Onda, some using ski-sticks on the steep path we were climbing which was dry with dust. After only 2½ hours' walking we saw the fabled Bergerie and Refuge de l'Onda. There was an Aire de Bivouacs for camping, with water spring and shower block, and wild boar pelts and heads drying on the fence!

The warden lived at the Bergerie with his horse and donkey (essential for bringing supplies) and sold home-made bread and cheese, but we had tuna salad sandwiches and bran loaf, which we ate in the shade of the Refuge set on the hillside above. It was a stone-built mountain bothy - communal dorm with 2-tier bunks and mattresses and a small kitchen with gas rings, washing-up sink and a large table and benches. No frills, but it must certainly be a sight for sore feet. We'd glimpsed its roof once before, from the Monte d'Oro side, but now we'd made It! There was an 'honesty box' asking 50 FF for full use of the refuge, 30 FF for camping or 10 FF for use of gas and kitchen, a map of the GR20 and a train timetable on the wall, and electric lighting (provided by solar panels outside). We didn't reserve bunks with our rucksack, we had to get home, but first we went up onto the ridge behind the Refuge, reaching 1520 m/5000 ft, of which we'd climbed 2600 ft. We could see the coast to coast path below, leading to Chiusa where we walked on 19 July. We walked back along the ridge, making our own path and scrambling down its wooded nose to rejoin GR20 far below and eventually reached Alf just after 4 pm. A wonderful glimpse into the world of high altitude hiking. We must go back and complete the circuit of Monte d'Oro.