You don't often come across fish on a walking holiday, except perhaps as a
succulent plateful at the end of a hard day on the hills, but the ones I met
at Calvi were looking at me face to face. This
was the easy part of the holiday, a trip on an antique train to Orso Longo
followed by a gentle stroll back along the coast with lunch in a beachside
café followed by a swim among the fish that thronged the rocks.
Tower on the coast
Ancient watchtowers, surrounded by a mass of golden yellow flowers, looked out over
a dark blue sea, while the sun beat down remorselessly with reflections
shimmering in the heat. Somehow this reminded me of the desert, which wasn't
far wrong really, as the crowd of bronzed athletic young men lazing on the
beach turned out to be members of the French Foreign Legion.
French Foreign Legion at Calvi
Corsica has a reputation for toughness. After all the most strenuous and
demanding of all the famous French walking routes, the GR20, with its
mountain huts and airy scrambles along rocky ridges, can be found here. But
we weren't following the way the hard men go, ours was more relaxing with a
return every night to an hotel close to Calvi's magnificent Citadelle
towering over the harbour.
Citadelle and Harbour, Calvi
Most people know the tale of Nelson clapping the telescope to his blind eye
and declaring "I see no ships", but it was here, during the Siege
of Calvi in 1794, that he lost that eye when struck by stone splinters
thrown up by a cannonball. There were certainly plenty of ships though, for
the harbour was full of them and we strolled along the quayside past
ferries, fishing boats, diving boats and a host of multi-million pound
yachts getting ready for Calvi's round the island race.
la Revellata cliffs near Calvi
Across
the wide bay the distant mountains beckoned, but walks at Calvi were mostly
through villages where cherry trees hung heavy with fruit and we stopped in
the cool of cafes like Sant Antonino where lemonade was made on the spot
from freshly squeezed lemons.
Friends made on holiday often turn out to come from far away, but it was
a surprise to find one lived just round the corner from us and Anne had even
babysat there. Another couple lived only a few miles from us and, when one
young lady happened to mention fell running, it turned out she ran regularly
with a friend of mine.
Running was definitely out though when we moved to the university town of
Corte.
Belvedere above Corte
Set in the mountains we expected to find cool mountain breezes, but the heat
continued as we explored tree-lined gorges set beneath towering peaks, while
lizards scurried beneath our feet. Corte is a strange mixture, with busy
cafes set round a shady square dominated by a statues of Pascal Paoli, the
leader of Corsica's 18th century independence, while the
care-worn buildings were a reminder that in the 1960's the island lost half
its population through emigration.
Pigna, one of the Corsican villages
"Tomorrow", said our guide, "I've planned a villages
walk". Our faces fell. Independence reared its head. We come on these
holidays for the company of other walkers, but the Arche de Corte could not
be missed. True it's practically straight up, an unrelenting climb of four
thousand feet, but from every postcard stand the images of this huge rocky
arch tempted us.
Mountains and pine trees high above Corte
An early start was called for and, as we climbed away from the town up a
hillside covered in yellow flowering maquis, I was glad to have invested in
a set of walking maps. Within minutes three locals passed us going the
opposite way. Obviously our 8.30a.m. start was pretty late by their
standards. "You've got plenty of water haven't you?" enquired one
and, with shoulders drooping under the weight of half a gallon of the stuff,
we felt well prepared. It wasn't alas enough. Perhaps it was thirst, for
when we reached the ridge we failed completely to find the arch. The
surroundings were superb with wild goats, pine trees, stupendous drops and
gleaming jagged mountains. But no arch.
And will we go back? Well, I rather like the heat and then there's that
rocky arch to find. It must be up there somewhere.
This article was first published in the Manchester Evening News
Ramblers Holidays