MOTORHOME TRAVELLERS' DIARY FOR JUNE 1998

CORSICA

Barry and Margaret Williamson

01 JUNE 1998 F CAMP BAIE DES VOILES, PORTO-VECCHIO

A bright sunny day after yesterday's rain and the N198 (main east coast road) busy with Whit holiday traffic. Keen to regain some fitness we cycled north along the minor road from La Trinité, gentle hills through the woods with occasional views of the sea, tracks leading to beaches and a sign for Noel's naturist camping site. The road ended at a busy beach, where we drank our squash and turned back, rather than return along the N198.

Barry found a block of wood at the roadside, ideal for completing the modifications to Alf's carrier in the afternoon. Margaret was pleased that the site had a washing machine, since our Easy-Washer still needs welding. She also tried to ring mum, which was a long process, as the BT Chargecard access number from France had changed since our leaflet, and the general number for enquiries was permanently engaged. A call to a number for 'European emergencies' proved to be a hospital! After many attempts, she got through to enquiries and found the new BT access number, which is even longer than the old one. Now all that was needed was to tap in a total of 33 digits in the right order, only to find mum was out!

The spotless starlings nesting in a hole in the eucalyptus outside our window are fascinating. They are now carrying pieces of eggshell out as the chicks hatch and we're reading 'The Life of a Bird' section in our Collins Guide - much more interesting than anything on French TV. The BBC World Service does keep us entertained - the current morning story is Scott Fitzgerald's 'Great Gatsby', and 'Othello' has filled the Sunday night play slot for the last 2 weeks.

It's getting ever hotter now, days of minimal clothing and nights with all the windows open. Went into Porto-Vecchio for fruit and veg and got a tub of delicious rum & raisin icecream (a loss leader at the Géant supermarket). After lunch we cycled south, through Porto-Vecchio and on hilly minor roads round the promontory below it. The road climbed high above the brilliant blue sea with lovely views of the coast, cliffs and beaches below.

Back home we made a fresh batch of squash, to keep the cycling bottles filled, and watched the starlings alternating in the endless feeding process. The campsite borders a freshly mown field which keeps them supplied with insects. We can now hear the hatchlings twittering inside the tree, especially when a parent enters.

We cycled into the Parc Naturel Régional following the route we'd taken last Sunday in the rain. Today it was fine (rather too hot in fact) but we were fitter and continued climbing for another 4 stiff miles beyond the bridge where we'd turned back before, reaching 930 m/3050 ft at the tiny village of Ospedale. The only source of refreshment as we climbed the twisting road was a high class restaurant with a panoramic terrace and a 95 Franc menu. Instead we sat by the memorial to a member of the fire brigade (the magnificently named sapeurs pompiers) who had died on duty, and finished our squash and biscuits. The road levelled out beyond the village and we rode on for another mile to a large lake/reservoir, beautifully sited in the mountain forest but with no sign of an advertised snack bar so, after cooling our feet in the water, we turned for home. Downhill all the way to a pot of tea, a shower, a rest and a meal - the perfect end to a good day's ride.

Deserving a rest day after yesterday's exertion we used Alf to go into Porto-Vecchio to shop and explore the Citadelle inside the old town walls. We wandered briefly in the medieval centre but it had given in to tourism and gift boutiques.

The modern town was of more interest, with its bank, hypermarket, DIY centre and even an Yves Rocher shop, where Margaret spent some more of her birthday money. The afternoon was spent writing, Barry working on the A-Z of Full-Timing series with the aid of his research assistant/cook/birdwatcher. Now a small head with a huge yellow gaping beak sometimes appears at the nest entrance as a parent starling returns. Seen through the binoculars, the hatchling's gape fills the entry hole. We can only see one at once, so are unsure how many young are inside.

After breakfast Barry set up the camera and tripod to photograph the starlings, who promptly went on strike and disappeared! We gave up and did a few jobs.

After an early lunch we took Alf to look beyond where we had cycled in the national park, up the familiar climb through the Forest of Ospedale to the lake, which he reached in 30 minutes compared with 3 hours' cycling! What lay beyond was the Col d'Illarata, slightly higher at 991 m/3250 ft, then dropping gently to the charming village of Zonza, deep in the Alta Rocca (high rock) region of the Parc Naturel Régional de Corse which was set up in 1972, covering one third of the island (3,000 sq km). We sat by Zonza church with our coffee and a wonderful view of the peaks and forests, before climbing again for 5 miles to the high point of the circuit, the Col de Bavella itself at 1218 m/4000 ft. In Dorothy Carrington's 'Granite Island' we'd seen reproductions of Edward Lear's sketches and paintings of the famous pass, the stunted pines backed by the granite needles of the Aiguilles de Bavella rising to 1790 m/5800 ft. It was little changed, except for the addition of an inn and car park, and we walked a little way past the statue of Our Lady, gazed and photographed.

The Grande Barrière, Corsica's spine, stretches from Bavella to the highest peak, Monte Cinto in the north-west, and the long distance trail GR20 follows its crest. We continued on Alf for 20 miles to rejoin the coast at Solenzara, but not quite downhill all the way. The single track road from Bavella village (a few mountain huts and a couple more cafes) snaked steeply down, dropping 2600 ft to a river valley, bumping through dusty roadworks, then climbing again to the Col de Larone at 2000 ft before making its narrow, rough, twisting way along the River Solenzara to the sea. A magnificent ride, an old road with sheer drops round blind corners! At the junction with the main coast road in Solenzara was a sign for a campsite by the beach, an ideal base from which to cycle up towards Bavella. We checked it out and decided to move onto it tomorrow. After a final 25 miles south along the N198 back to Porto-Vecchio and home, we sampled the Pizza au feu de bois from the campsite's beach restaurant. Very thin and crispy, they are a speciality seen all over the island, much more commonly than in Italy!

In a last attempt to photograph our spotless starling family, Barry set the tripod up on the dinette table and worked through the open window, which didn't spook them as it had outdoors. We wanted to stay and see the fledglings emerge, but this could be many days yet, if the site doesn't get busy and disturb them.

We drove on to Solenzara and settled in between the sea and the road among Germans on large motorbikes and an eccentric Swiss couple with a poodle. The friendly resident Moroccan worker broke off from cleaning the showers to help us empty our sewage down a man-hole, duly photographed for the A-Z series, and was pleased with his reward (a pack of Turkish cigarettes).

After lunch we went into Solenzara village to shop at the Spar and get our hair cut, but changed our minds on finding it would cost £25 each! We'll wait for a cheaper country. We also left many negativess at the photographer's for copying, to send to Dick & Audrey, Sally and mum.

24 miles. £9.16 (low season ended last weekend!)

We decided the mountain pass road to Bavella would be too busy for cycling on a fine Sunday, so Barry spent the morning working on the text and photograph captions for the A-Z series, which is almost complete. Margaret pottered (which means any or all of: cleaning, cooking, baking, stock-taking, mending, book-keeping, hair-washing, shoe polishing, boot and saddle waxing, reading, etc).

After lunch the peace of the day came to an abrupt end when M managed to drop a recipe card down the back of the cooker, where there is a slight gap between the hob and the worktop. Alarmed that it could be a fire risk so near the gas burners, Barry had to retrieve it, which meant removing the wooden panel boxing in the oven, which was not designed for easy removal, which meant removing the kitchen sink, which was not designed for easy removal ... Sounds of splintering wood and curses filled the air and M's apologies were of little help. Three hours later the card was extracted, from a place where it would indeed have been a fire hazard, the wooden panel was battened down again and the sink was back in place. But the 'plughole' in the sink itself, upset at being disturbed after 3 years and more, was now leaking: another problem to be solved. Some days are like this! A liberal application of super-glue seemed to seal the leak and resecure the plughole to the sink. Time will tell.

Margaret rang mum, this time without difficulty, and learnt that our Midland cheque cards have reached Alan's. We did eventually enjoy the marinated turkey breast with savoury rice on the recipe card, though it wasn't quite worth all that effort! The Sunday night play on the BBC World Service was about Eyam and the plague which took us back to the Derbyshire Peak, walks and well dressings.

It dawned very bright and sunny, too hot to attempt cycling towards Bavella today. We rode Alf 10 miles north to Ghisonaccia to look at campsites there, with a view to moving on soon - this beachside site is too popular with noisy families. We remembered spending a night in Ghisonaccia when we cycled through Corsica in 1991, turning inland there to climb to Vivario through a thunderstorm, and even recognised the Hôtel de la Poste though most of the small town was newly built. We found 2 large commercial camping/holiday village complexes 3 miles out on the coast, with swimming pools, discos, horse riding and tennis (and way over our price limit), so enquired at the Tourist Office who directed us to a delightful Camping à la Ferme, off the main road a mile back towards Solenzara. A charming restaurant with a huge camping area under shady trees between vineyards, some distance from the beach, level, good pitches and no other campers, it's well-named Campu Serenu (this is the Costa Serena). We promised to return soon.

After lunch back at Solenzara we went into the village to collect the photograph reprints and make photocopies of the May diary to send mum and also to Sally and Dick & Audrey. We're looking forward to some photos and an account of their Greek island hopping in exchange. We bought a good map of the Aiguilles de Bavella region for cycling/walking. We also tried to get the local garage to weld our Easy-washer frame together, without success, so used the elusive launderette.

Waking to find it slightly cooler and cloudy we prepared for our cycle ride towards Bavella. Well basted with sun protection cream and insect repellent, bottles filled with squash, we took to the road and reached the first pass, the Col de Larone at 2000 ft, without difficulty. The stunning scenery passed slowly enough to take in every detail, one of the joys of cycling. The roadside springs of mountain water are another - once as important as today's petrol stations, when these were mule tracks.

The road would have been fairly quiet for this first half of the morning if we hadn't unwittingly chosen the day of some veteran car rally, so that a succession of ludicrously noisy and ostentatious 'sports' cars (mostly German with the odd GB) pushed past, hooting and waving. We did our best to ignore them, apart from shouting at those who forced us to stop rather than be pushed over the drop which edged the narrow road. We rested at the Col de Larone until the convoy had got by. This would have been satisfying enough for a hill-climb but we agreed to continue and try for Bavella, despite having to drop 600 ft before climbing another 2000 ft (not good psychology). The final climb got steeper, the sun got hotter, we got wearier, then at last we saw the climbing huts of Bavella village and reached the col soon after 1 pm. It was busy with tourists in cars and motorbikes, but we only saw one other cyclist! Sitting outside the inn we consumed 2 litres of spring water, 2 large coffees and 2 ham and cheese crêpes. We felt good!

The return was delightful, the 600 ft climb to Larone breaking the fall, the road quiet without the poop-pooping rally. It had taken 3 hrs 45 mins cycling time to reach Bavella (20 miles climbing 4600 ft) and 2 hrs to come down again, plus a total of 2 hrs for short rests and the lunch break at the top. A full day's work!

Pots of tea, beans on toast, apple crumble and showers. As good as it gets!

Rosie made her stately way along the N198, relieved that she wasn't expected to climb to Bavella after Alf and the bicycles had told her about it! We were soon settled in the peaceful plantation which we had to ourselves, though we were told that a lot of regulars come later in the summer, from Belgium and Holland. It's warm enough for us right now. After lunch we went into Ghisonaccia to shop at an excellent Mr Bricolage DIY and Super-U supermarket, and couldn't resist a succulent 50FF poulet rôti hot from the spit at a stall in the street. It gave us a roast dinner with plenty over for curry tomorrow. We left the Easy-washer frame at the camping reception to see if they could get it welded - Madame thought her son might do it.

10 miles. £7.81 (sans branchement)

Rain in the night preceded a change in the weather, still warm and sunny but with a very strong west wind coming off the mountains (the stunted pines at Bavella show that to be the prevailing wind). Sadly, it blew a chaffinch nest down outside the shower block and we saw 4 small blue speckled eggs smashed on the path, providing a feast for the ants all day.

As the second Thursday of the month is market day in Ghisonaccia we rode in, almost blown over on the main road once clear of the shelter from our trees: not a day to go any further. The market was entirely clothes and non-food stalls, nothing like the local farmers' markets of Greece, so we bought nothing except some more bits from Mr Bricolage to finish the mods to Rosie's carrier for Alf. Barry worked on that after lunch while M attempted Mary Tisdall's favourite scones, both sultana and cheese (the March MMM, unusually, had a recipe page for 'Cooking in a Camper'). We decided Delia's method was better, but they'll all be eaten. Our 'Easy-washer' frame was returned, spot-welded by a friend of the Patron who lives on a boat in Solenzara, though it doesn't look very strong. Time to look out for a new machine.

Still very windy, cooler and cloudy. Barry worked through some of the back-log of photographs, sorting and labelling prints and negatives, while M got the diary up to date. Both are time-consuming ongoing jobs, sometimes a chore but a pleasure to look back on, and essential for when we are writing for publication.

Later into Ghisonaccia to leave more negativess for reprints.

Into Ghisonaccia to shop and phone Comfort Insurance to renew Rosie's policy, which Barry confirmed by letter. We arranged to have an electrical hook-up from today (an extra £1.50 daily) as the house batteries are getting low processing all our words, and there are too many trees shading the solar panels from the sun. Roland, the Patron, is something of an arborist, explaining how he and his son planted the whole campsite in 1985 with the long avenues of eucalyptus, birch and oak and he is constantly irrigating and tending them. None bear anything edible (apart from one wild cherry) but he grows them to purify and sweeten the air, using the prunings for heating and cooking. Eucalyptus especially is good for breathing (after all, it's used in cough drops), the leaves, bark and flowers giving off a smell which is supposed to repel mosquitoes (which is hard to believe, unless they're all taking refuge from the eucalyptus in here!) Corsica does, indeed, have a unique fragrance - thyme, honeysuckle, rosemary, myrtle, pine resin, the maquis - Napoleon claimed he'd know the island blindfold by its scent.

After lunch the wind had fallen and we took to the mountains on Alf, keen to retrace a day of our route when we cycled through Corsica, Easter 1991. We remember it all: leaving Ghisonaccia after buying Barry a pair of shorts (it was so warm), a photograph of M cycling up the Défile de l'Inzecca which we used on our cards at the end of that year, brewing up by a ruined cottage at the edge of the gorge, then running into a terrific thunderstorm as we climbed above the hillside village of Ghisoni through the forest reaching the Col de Sorba at 1310m/4300 ft in a blizzard. Today we rode up on Alf, pausing in the woods before the top to drink coffee and don more clothes as the air became thinner. Once over the col, the hairpinning 6 mile descent to the village of Vivario, soaked and numbed with freezing rain, is still our most vivid memory of that earlier Corsican tour. Arriving there this time we recognised the little hotel (in fact the only hotel) where Madame had taken us in and prepared a meal even though not really open, saving us from exposure. What a day that had been! We returned on an even narrower back road over the lower Col de Morello, 824 m/ 2700 ft and through Vezzani village, seeing no-one apart from a few alpine cows and free-range pigs. We rejoined our outward route just above the lower barrage of Sampolo reservoir and returned home, resolved to recycle the route.

Before dinner we had an hour's French conversation practice with Roland, who brought an excellent bottle of Corsican rosé and invited himself in. Since French is a second language here, the Corsicans do speak more slowly and carefully than the continental French and he had some interesting views. He'd done his military service in Algeria (Corsica traditionally provided the foreign legion), deserted and been sent back, serving 3 years in all. A passionate Corsican, living close to nature, he condemned the French as 'slaves of industrialisation' (though his home island couldn't exist without them, as it manufactures nothing and even sends its cork bark to Sardinia for processing.) The interior is scenically beautiful but empty, the people drawn to the coast to live from tourism. We learnt that Sardinia is increasingly short of water, which is plentiful here (especially on this campsite!) and that there are plans to lay a pipe under the sea to supply Sardinia. He praised the Corsican mountain spring water, filtered slowly through granite, and claimed he was only ill when he drank bottled mineral water. Quite a character.

Off at 10.15 am to repeat yesterday's ascent by bicycle. We enjoyed the climb, with little traffic, resting by the reservoir before the road became steeper up to Ghisoni, 20 miles and 2000 ft above. We ate a packed lunch by the church as the clock struck 1 pm, then the real effort began with another 2300 ft to climb in only 7 miles. We reached the col de Sorba at 3.30 pm (after 4 hours' cycling time) and even today it was cold at this height, with an odd drop of rain.

After freewheeling back to Ghisoni we warmed ourselves over coffee in the bar before the long descent to Ghisonaccia. Home at 5.30 after 55 hard miles ridden in 5 hrs 43 mins (average 9.6 mph), we relaxed with Alan Ayckbourn's 'Way up River' on the radio.

A showery day and a well-deserved rest. At Roland's invitation, M picked 1½ lb of cherries for a pie, though they weren't very sweet. The macaroons baked alongside them proved more popular.

We also put in a few more hours on the A-Z of Full-timing and wrote to mum.

The current radio morning serial is John le Carré reading his latest book 'The Tailor of Panama'. Though we need to hear 'the story so far' each time to understand what happened yesterday, it's full of atmosphere! For the rest of the morning we pottered and posted mum's letter, with the May diary and some photos.

Then out on Alf for a ride up into Serra and Prunelli, villages of the Fiumorbo region, and the foothills of the Marmano Forest behind. (The Fiumorbo river comes down to the sea forming a swampy delta below Ghisonaccia.) The hillsides are thickly wooded, remarkably green, riven with streams and springs and foraged by free-range pigs - the basis of the famous hams and charcuterie of Corsica. There are no goats, perhaps another reason for the lush vegetation.

Concerned by the state of Alf's Greek tyres (products of SE Asia with names like 'Precious Horse' and 'Fu Wong Rubber Co'), Barry put the new spare tyre, carried on the roof from Greece, onto Alf's front wheel and we cycled into Ghisonaccia to see if the bike shop could get him a new back tyre. A nice surprise - they had a good Michelin of the right size in stock (along with inner tube and rim tape), and we also bought a Michelin rear cycle tyre each - the genuine articles, made in France, not Greek copies which perish before they hit the road! The cycle tyres (700x32C) were the well-known 'World Tour', which may be an omen? Margaret even found some lightweight leather cycling shoes in the bargain bin - the only pair, and her size, reduced from 287 to 120 FF (or £29.90 marked down to £12.50). That took care of the rest of her birthday money. Delighted with all this, Barry fitted the new tyres before lunch.

A long mountain ride on a reshod Alf took us back to Solenzara (where our last campsite was packed with beach-worshippers), up to the Col of Bavella for our first coffee stop, then down to Zonza. Here we took unknown quiet roads through the picturesque Alta Rocca villages of Quenza and Aullène before climbing over the Col de la Vaccia and down to Zicavo. Then a final climb to the Col de Verde, where we quickly finished our coffee, anxious to return before darkness fell in these dense forests of roaming boar! A long drop to Ghisoni, then the familiar ride through the Inzecca Defile and back by about 8 pm - an astonishing tour with 8,000 ft of climbing over 3 high passes in 110 miles, which we resolved to repeat by bicycle, though it might take more than one long afternoon!

18 JUNE 1998 F CAMPING SERENU, GHISONACCIA

A day on the A-Z of Full-timing series, final(?) version with amendments and additions checked and printed, photos sorted and captioned, as far as possible pending replies to queries on taxing and testing. It could be the start of a book ...? We also wrote the diary up to date and talked to Roland about leaving Rosie here while we go cycling for a couple of days. Restez tranquils, pas de problème was his response. He offered the use of his cool room and deep freeze so that we can turn our gas and electricity off and insisted that we ring him to collect us in his van if we had any problems whatsoever. Genuine kindness. The serenity of his campsite was somewhat broken by the arrival of a gang of lively teenagers on a walking tour, here for a 'rest' day, so it's a good time for us to retreat!

With perishables in Roland's cool room or freezer, Rosie well secured and 'World Tours' pumped up to 80 psi, we were away by 9.15 am on a 2-day cycle tour, following the route of last Wednesday's 110-mile ride on Alf, in reverse order. A perfect day for it, dry and warm with little wind, and the 20 mile climb to Ghisoni was easier than the first time on the ride to the Col de Sorba, despite carrying overnight bags. We arrived in Ghisoni at noon and spent 15 mins sitting in the shade of the fountain with our sandwiches before the steeper 8 mile climb through the Marmano Forest to the Col de Verde. Part way up a good break was taken at the woodland shelter, which (had it been open) would have offered an exhibition on the life of the forest and prevention of fires and a nature trail along the Sentier du Sanglier duly marked with wild boar emblems. It did offer what we needed - a place to sit under a huge chestnut by a cool mountain spring. We reached the Col, 1289 m/4230 ft, at 2.45 pm and celebrated with coffee at the small snack bar (Relais) there (the patron said that he took his chapeau off to us). Then came our reward - a 15 miles freewheeling descent on a good forest road to Zicavo, magnificently perched in the mountains at 730 m/2400 ft so we didn't lose all the height we'd climbed from sea level.

Entering the village at 4 pm we saw a new sign for 'Le Paradis' offering Chambres d'Hôte, Gîtes ruraux and Repas familial which indeed turned out to be paradise - we were offered a new 6-berth apartment complete with well-equipped kitchen and bathroom with bath, with evening meal or breakfast as optional extras, at a much better rate and level of comfort than a hotel. We cooked our own supper but took Madame's breakfast (a total of 230 FF or under £24 for B & B). The one village store supplied us with the makings of an excellent fast meal from the oven (a frozen fish dish, frozen potato slices in creamy cheese sauce, tin of peas and strawberry yogurts), we luxuriated in our first baths in over 18 months and slept well in rural peace.

Not quite the longest day of the year, but it felt like it! We started with an excellent breakfast at Le Paradis in Zicavo - a basket of white and brown breads and selection of fruity jams (orange, apricot, plum and rhubarb), all deliciously home-baked by Madame, with enormous handle-less bowls of milky coffee. We were joined by 4 noisy Bretons from the adjacent Gîte and steered the conversation away from football (or Ballon - the world cup being played in France at present with constant reference to British 'ooligans'). We were on our way at 9.05 am and by 10.50 had easily climbed 10 miles to the Col de la Vaccia (1193 m/3914 ft) in the morning shade of the forest, meeting many more pigs than people on our way. A long freewheel to the hamlet of Fozzaninco and on to the village of Aullène, where we paused to cool down by the church, then a winding road, climbing gently up and down to arrive in Quenza at 12.35.

Finding little on offer for lunch we continued to the larger village of Zonza, an important crossroads with routes leading to Porto-Vecchio or Propriano, as well as Bavella. It was 1.20 pm and 30 miles since breakfast and the pizzeria/grill was open. After a cheeseburger for B and a galette complète (pancake with ham, cheese, mushrooms and an egg) for M, it was back on the road at 2 pm for the hardest 5 miles of the day, the unrelenting ascent of the Col de Bavella (1218m/4000 ft) in the equally relentless afternoon sun. We made it by 3.15 pm, bought coffee and refilled our water bottles at the top, then made our way down, and up the Col de Larone (608 m/2000 ft) and down to the main road, reaching Solenzara at 5.30 pm, 55 miles in all. This route is described earlier, when we rode it on 9 June, but now we were no longer based at the Camping de la Côte des Nacres and had another 10 miles to cycle, north along the busy N198, reaching Camping Selenu at 6.20 pm, after a brilliant tour. Today we'd ridden 65 miles in 7 hours (stops not included) and climbed over 4,000 ft at an average of 9.3 mph.

Over the 2 days we completed 110 miles and climbed a total of 2500 m or over 8000 ft! It's in these ways we measure the years.

A well-earned rest and recuperation day. We did go into Ghisonaccia to use the launderette and ring mum (no ansaphone) and Alan (no answer). After lunch Barry stripped down one of his pedals, which had been protesting on the tour, and found the bearings completely beyond repair. Luckily, we had a pair which we'd bought in Cambridge and carried for this moment. Very smart. Margaret made sweet & sour pork and bread & butter apple pud to replenish the calories we'd burnt off. (Cycling does not help you lose weight!) We tried ringing mum and Alan again in the evening on Roland's phone, still without success.

After another warm sticky night burning mosquito coils we needed some cool mountain air. Alf took us on the first leg, through Ghisoni (again), turning off the Col de Verde road after 5 miles and zig-zagging up for another 10 miles to the ski station at the Bergeries de Capannelle, at 1600 m/5250 ft, the highest point we'd yet reached in Corsica. We parked Alf in the shade of the disused restaurant, ate a packed lunch and left him at 1.15 pm with the alpine cows. We carried a sheet from the tourist office which described the walk in only the vaguest of French terms, but we also had Barry's compass and sense of direction and a keen eye for the cairns marking the route. We were soon at the top of the piste, 400 ft higher above the ski lifts, then climbing a moraine past a huge dark rock (the Pietra Niella). On the little plateau of Pizzolu we crossed a stream then climbed another moraine, reaching the edge of the Lac de Bastani after 1 hr 30 mins walking.

We met a handful of other hikers returning but had the lake and the superb view back to the east coast to ourselves. There was still snow in the gulleys at this height, 2083 m/6833 ft, but the sun was intense. The lake had been our goal but we felt strong enough to continue to the ridge of Punta Bacinellu rising behind it. This meant traversing a snow field or doing some serious scrambling across a barrier of boulders (we chose the latter). Another hour and we were at the top, with a hazy view of both coasts and that mountain-top alone-in-the-world exhileration. We were at 2247 m/7370 ft, on the crest of the Grande Barrière, the highest we'd been for nearly a year, since climbing in the Taigetos above Sparta. Only one problem - you can't freewheel down on foot - and even descending 2120 ft on rough ground is hard work. Down at 5.15 pm we were very glad to find Alf still waiting, with home-made lemonade and buns about his person. He still had the energy to bring us home, pausing for Margaret to apply 'Stingose' when a wasp attacked her leg.

After a welcome meal we rang Alan, as mum was still unobtainable, and learnt that she's at Harold's for a week, after passing out last Tuesday. M rang her there, to find all was well and they were watching the England/Romania match which was also on our TV (England lost 2-1). We can look forward to mail from them all in Bastia.

Our limbs needing to recuperate after the mountaineering, we vowed to finish the work on our other marathon, the A-Z. The original text clearly marked with amendments and the additional sections (10,000 words in total), 68 labelled photographs plus list of captions and a covering letter to the MMM editor were finished, checked and parcelled ready to become an up-to-10-part series. We also wrote this diary up to date and planned a short motorbike tour to the west coast for the next 2 or 3 days. Enough work for a rest day, rewarded by a video (the first of Blessed Brian's attempts on Everest, when he didn't quite go over the top!), liquorice allsorts and an early night!

After leaving the contents of the fridge and freezer with Roland again, we were on our way at 10.15 am. First stop was to post the A-Z article by registered mail, then we climbed through the wooded hills of the interior to Vivario, by a new route through Vezzani and over the Col de Morello (824 m/2700 ft) instead of the Inzecca Defile and Ghisoni. At a wayside spring we made coffee with our little Gaz stove, enjoying the morning sun. We'd left everyone on the sticky coast and had the cooler air to ourselves. At Vivario we detoured to Tattone, a few miles south, to check for campsites. Le Soleil, at over 2,500 ft, was quiet and friendly, with a railway halt nearby, and will probably be our next base. Then to Venaco and over the Col de Bellagranajo to Corte (cycled in 1991 after the night in Vivario). The road followed the railway until it disappeared in tunnels.

We ate our packed lunch at the top of the col (723 m/2372 ft) before dropping into Corte (University town and capital of the island until Napoleon changed it to Ajaccio), which was busy, hot and airless, lying in a valley. We collected a railway timetable from the station, then found the route to Evisa, a beautiful minor road which ran north for 10 miles then veered south-west following the lovely gorge of the River Golo, rising and falling. We sympathised with the few laden cycle-tourers we saw, and lost any trust we'd had in Paul Theroux, who claimed to have ridden from Corte to Evisa and back in a day on a hired bicycle! (A good day's tour by car!) In the village of Calacuccia we bought petrol and biscuits and refilled our water bottle for a brew-up by the dammed lake, watched by a snorting horse who was also feeling the heat. The road climbed through beautiful forests of oak, chestnut and pine to the highest pass on the island, the Col du Verglio, 1477 m/ 4845 ft, closed in winter (and cycled over by P Theroux in February twice in one day!?) There was a huge modern granite statue of Christ, some tame pigs begging for food, a snack bar which was closed and footpaths leading away on the GR20, but the snow had gone. A last 6 miles down to arrive in Evisa at 6 pm, through the Forest of Aitone (mainly chestnuts, a speciality of the region, planted to grind into flour for breads and cakes). The Gîte d'Etape only had dormitory space and the one-star hotel was full, so we took a room in the two-star Hotel Chataigneraie, an eponymous chestnut right outside the window, which was above the restaurant kitchen, tantalising us with the smell of the 95 FF menu all evening as we ate our provisions from the village store. We even had a bath - our second this year!

105 miles. Room £23 (the £ having risen from 9.8 to 10.00 FF)

After making our own breakfast of yogurt, bananas, bread and jam (no cornflakes, but we had the morning serial on Barry's tiny Sony radio!) we left at 9.45 am for the splendid 20-mile run to the coast at Sagone, through more forest and over more passes, the highest the Col de Sevi at 1272 m/4175 ft. We stopped to make coffee from spring water by a stream and were soon joined by a free-roaming free-booting pig who posed for a photo in return for a slice of bread. From Sagone we followed the coast northwards to Cargèse, famous for its two churches which face each other above the harbour: one Latin and one Greek. Intrigued by the Greek connection we looked inside, to find the Uniat (Greek-language Roman Catholic) church had the stations of the cross round the walls captioned in Greek, lifeless frescoes and the times for Mass advertised. A sign did explain the historic link - over 700 Greeks fled to Corsica from Vitylo (Itilo) in the Mani in 1675, offered sanctuary by the Genoese to escape the Turks, and finally settled in this village. Some account of this is given in chapter 8 of Patrick-Leigh Fermour's 'Mani', which we re-read on our return. The Latin church was even gloomier inside, the harbour was a marina with no cafe, and now the baker's had closed. Luckily there was a fast food joint and we enjoyed a cheeseburger menu.

The road now turned inland until the pretty village of Piana, as the coast became inaccessible cliffs and headlands. Then a 7-mile corniche, Les Calanche, winding tortuously high above the sea with dizzy views of pink granite rocks and gulleys, dropping down to the small resort of Porto, hotels and restaurants clustered very claustrophobically round the bay. We tried to cool off with ice cream, as we watched the 2.30 pleasure trip set sail for the Golfe de Girolata and the Scandola nature reserve. Only 50 miles from here to Calvi, but we didn't anticipate what slow going it would be. The road got higher, narrower, rougher and twistier, and when 2 coaches met on a bend there were moments of confusion and agitation which made us appreciate the ease of travel on a small motorbike. We found a place to pull off the road, brew tea and eat our treats from the pâtisserie, with views of the yachts in the gulf below showing an even easier way to travel. It was after 7 pm when we reached Calvi which had plenty of hotels though mostly of the 3-star sort used by package holidays. The 2-stars we tried were both full and there seemed to be no other accommodation, but a little way out of town we found another modest hotel with a room at the back (no balcony or sea view) - very welcome by 7.45 pm. Alf was tucked up in a large garage between 2 enormous Italian bikes, but he would certainly have outrun them with travellers' tales through the small hours of the night.

118 miles. Room £28 with breakfast.

Leaving at 9 am after a non-optional breakfast on the terrace (supplemented by our own jam), the sun already hot, we were spotted by an English couple sitting on their balcony, who'd arrived by plane on a package yesterday. In a short chat we learnt that they had a motorhome and were already regretting travelling without it. Is staying in your hotel room a good response to a fear of narrow roads? Calvi claims to be the birthplace of Christoper Columbus (to Genoese parents) and we went up to the citadel and old town, where a Spanish couple who now live in Grenoble asked Barry to take their photo. They'd come by car on the fast-ferry from Nice (2½ hours across). Europe (Le continent de la France as they call it here) suddenly seems so near, we're at once attracted and repelled by it. We heard on the radio this morning that German schools finish today and a great tidal wave of several million are due to surge down the Autobahn towards the Med.

The 10 miles of coast road on to l'Ile Rousse was gentler than yesterday's route. Hungry after the miniscule breakfast we bought croissants (or cross-ants as Dick would have said) and made coffee by the harbour, quiet away from the town centre. Soon we turned inland, climbing into the hills heading towards Corte on a quiet minor road which joined the main road just before Ponte Leccia. Here we bought bread, found more water and had a picnic in the field by the old bridge over the Golo. Just out of the town we saw an American RV parked by the America Garage, flying the flag, so we stopped and talked to the only man about. He said it was run by his father-in-law and a friend, and they might be able to service Rosie if we brought her round. It sounded unlikely but we noted their phone number in case of emergency. Then on to Corte, still hot, airless and busy. We went up to the citadel, where Corsica's only university is based, resisted the museum of Corsican independence and headed home. Rather than taking the familiar route through Vivario we followed the Tavignano river for 30 miles to its mouth at Aleria, 10 miles north of Ghisonaccia. This looked like a main road on the map and we wanted to see if it was suitable for Rosie.

Sadly, it wasn't, as there were roadworks all but blocking a narrow winding stretch in the middle (where a tunnel is being constructed), though most of it had been widened and improved. Once we'd quenched Alf's (and our) thirst, we visited the museum and site for the Roman colony at Aleria, which was the capital and chief port of Roman Corsica. The museum was in an interesting Genoese fort (1572) housing a collection of Greco-Etruscan and Roman pottery and finds from the 6thC BC onwards, though in need of more lucid display! The site of the Roman town and earlier necropolis was 5 minutes' walk away, through hot dusty cornfields, on a rise above the river estuary. The stone and brickwork foundations of shops, streets, temples, cisterns and forum were clear and excavation was still under way. Why Aleria had dwindled to a small village, the port only marked by a beachside campsite, was not explained. Perhaps the harbour silted up.

We finally reached Ghisonaccia at 5.30, pausing to buy a roast chicken for supper, and found all was well back at mosquito farm.

118 miles today. 341 miles total tour.

Into Ghisonaccia to visit the bank and supermarket (in that order). The shops are air-conditioned and the heat hits you as you re-emerge. Soon we shall have to go north. Later M wrote the diary up-to-date while B washed the road dust off Rosie and Alf and we generally prepared to move on tomorrow. Letters were also written to Dick & Audrey and to Sally, to post with the photos and diary extracts covering Sicily and Sardinia. The patent 'No-Bite' mosquito killer overheated and melted a connection wire but Barry fitted a new 12 volt plug to it and it continued its essential night's work, more effectively than the eucalyptus grove!

After a chat with Roland and his wife, completing the form for the Caravan Club guide book (which did not endear us enough to get a discount, though it qualified for a bag of peaches from their garden), we were driving north along the coast road. We stopped after 30 miles for a coffee break, parked right by the sandy beach at Moriani-Plage, then the road turned inland for another 10 miles to Casamozza, where we left the main Bastia road and climbed into the interior, following the Golo river and the railway line to Ponte Leccia. Though a longer route, it was a much better road than the Corte-Aleria one, still under construction, which we'd taken on Alf last Friday. It was in fact the way we'd cycled from Corte to Bastia in Easter 1991 and we even recognised Chez Tony, the pizzeria where we'd taken refuge from the rain and eaten the best pizza au feu de bois and banana flambé in our lives!

From Ponte Leccia, past the America Garage and on to Corte was familiar from both rides, the road was delightfully quiet as Sunday lunch and siesta time kept everyone indoors, and we parked to eat ours in the Col de Bellagranajo's scenic lay-by above the town of Venaco. Down again to Vivario, then steep climbing past the turnoff for the Col de Sorba (not for Rosie) to Tattone and the rural campsite, which we'd phoned yesterday to reserve a place. Rosie climbed very well all day; even on the steepest and most prolonged sections, down in 2nd gear, the water temperature never went above the middle of the M in NORMAL. We wish that were true for us! Or do we? Very warm and sunny still but at least there is some cooler air coming off the snow-capped Monte d'Oro behind the campsite, rustling the fir trees. We thought we had it to ourselves, though later a minibus of young Amsterdamers and a coach of older German men (and nothing but men) arrived and filled the meadow with little tents. We settled in, ordered croissants for a breakfast treat, made a pavlova with Roland's peaches and planned to visit Bastia by train tomorrow.

92 miles. £6.70 inc elec.

After collecting deux croissants, a 5-minute walk up to the tiny request-stop station for the 8.17 am, earliest of the 4 daily trains. The single track line, begun in 1887, runs from Ajaccio to Bastia in 3½ hours, with one branch line from Ponte Leccia to l'IIe Rousse and Calvi. It was a comfortable little 2-carriage diesel train (known one knows not why as the micheline), with conductor and toilet aboard but no drinks or refreshments. The early stretch especially, stopping at Vivario, Venaco, Corte, Francardo, Ponte Leccia and Ponte Novu (where we waited 15 mins to let the down train pass) was spectacular, with views of ravines, streams and forests only visible from the train, and a dizzy view from the bridge over the River Vecchiu (just past Vivario) which was built by Eiffel, near the new road bridge still under construction. There were frequent short tunnels where the road had to leap over passes, but we generally followed the route we'd driven Rosie until reaching Casamozza on the main east coast road. Another 25 mins north, calling at Biguglia (for the lagoon/nature reserve) and Furiani (where we noted a garage with an LPG pump), and we reached Bastia at 10.35 am. We had an overdue coffee at the Hôtel de la Poste opposite the PO, then checked our Poste Restante. There was a nice long letter from mum, Rosie's new insurance certificates from Comfort (one reason for our visit, as the old ones run out tomorrow), and one out of 3 packets from Alan! All these had arrived in 2 days, but where is the rest? No matter, we'll return in due course for a ferry and they should be waiting.

We walked down to the Gare Maritime for timetables to Italy (Moby Line or Corsica Ferries), then through the vast central square, Place St Nicolas, which claims to be the length of 3 football fields (perhaps they should hold the world cup here!) We looked in vain in the main bookshop for English reading matter - not even a guidebook for walking/cycling, though the Germans and Italians had a small selection, reminding us of recent history here. This was the first French Département to be liberated from Italian/German occupation on 4 October 1943, when 80% of Bastia was destroyed (by the Americans). The Yanks were also responsible for clearing malarial mosquitoes from the swamps of the east coastal plain (though they somehow missed Roland's field at Camping Serenu!)

We raided the Crédit Agricole machine for FF and wandered on past the old fishing port, climbing the steep lanes up to the citadel, with 14thC ramparts and Governor's Palace (complete with siege cisterns and dungeons, now an ethnographic museum closed for lunch). A packed lunch in the palace gardens, looking down on the ports, old and new, reading a little of Bastia's past. A late 14thC governor from Genoa built the fortified town above the harbour, naming it Bastilla, and it became the Genoese capital of the island.

The 16thC cathedral St Marie was closed for renovation, a plaque marked the house where General Hugo and his better-known son Victor lived 1803-5, and it was time to retrace our steps to the Hôtel de la Poste for a last coffee before the dry run back. The 2.30 pm train had 3 carriages (more like a tram), but carried us safely home to Tattone, running exactly to time at 5.07 pm. It had been stifling in Bastia and was still hot at this height (over 90º in the shade).

All was revealed about the German 'men only' coach at our campsite - they are Roman Catholic priests on a walking holiday, and sat round in a large circle, with prayers before supper and singing later (one hymn to the tune of 'Auld Lang Syne'). The Amsterdam youth group had been replaced by backpackers who slept under the stars (very clear here) without tents.

A pleasant evening reading our mail - Comfort Insurance have reduced their premium and increased their range of European countries covered without surcharge; mum sounded in good spirits after her ordeal; Roland Proctor sent a postcard, promising a letter to come; and the DVLC supplied essential information for the 'Taxing and Testing' section of our A-Z, which will tax and test us too!

An early start, avoiding the heat of the day, for a short sharp cycle ride, climbing to the nearby Col de Vizzavona, 1163 m/3815 ft. We were back by 9 am and keen to do more walking in the area, having seen signs for Les Cascades des Anglais and the GR20 trail in both directions, climbing up to and beyond the remaining patches of snow..

Later we went into Corte (20 miles away) on Alf to make phone calls (the only callbox in Vivario being closed for cleaning!) Winnebago's European HQ in Wettringen (moved from Kirkel) was very willing to service Rosie. Roger Callan is still with them and they have on-site camping facilities as before. We also visited Tourist Information and tried the bookshops in vain (this University mustn't have an English Department!) but we did find a bargain roast chicken (30 FF with a free pack of crisps!) at the Spar.

Barry sent Roland a return postcard and began compiling the final section for the A-Z on Taxing and Testing, in the light of our recent information.