GR20 – Advice.

Good sleep, good breakfast, quick bus ride to Porto-Vecchio where I planned to get a hotel, get some new boots and get a ferry tomorrow to Sardinia for a couple of days. Being both a port and named after a port, I assumed I could get a ferry from here, but it turns out I can't, which means another bus ride tomorrow to Bonifacio, where hopefully I will be able to jump on a ferry – Sardinia is apparently heaps cheaper than Corsica, which is a frightfully expensive place. You would think that wandering around and living in a tent for a couple of weeks wouldn't chew through the cash faster than living in Florence for a month, but it did. The horrible day where I have to look for some work over here is approaching faster than I would like.

Anyway, found a cheapish hotel – tiny room, but it has a shower and wifi and an air-con – which is basically all I need. Then walked around for ages to find some new boots – a purchase I didn't really have any choice about. Did my laundry, bumped into the English couple from the first bus before the walk, who seem to be fully over their minor domestic, if that is in fact what it was – they seemed very happy to see me and congratulated me on finishing – I don't think any of the people I started with really expected me to...

In lieu of anything really interesting to write about, here are my two bob's worth for anyone wanting to do the GR20:

Go in September – I never had any problems getting a campsite, or tent, or basically any dramas at all with the refuges. Apparently it is compulsory to book them in advance, but I only met two couples who in fact did and when it gets right down to it, they are not going to make you freeze to death.

Pack light – I reckon 10 kilos total, not including up to an extra 3 kilos of water, which some days you will need to carry. If you carry more than this your muscles will adjust to it on the ascents, but on the descents there are mechanical limits to how much your knees can take – mine are flaky anyway and the one with the loose ACL did nearly slip out on a number of occasions – saved by the walking sticks.

Don't bring a laptop...

Walking sticks – unless you are really young and travelling really light, you will almost certainly need them – you can always chuck them out or give them away if you don't. The brand I bought was the only brand available at the Hotel at the end of stage 3 – Leki. I can't compare them with anything else, but they did the job for me and have a neat way of not slipping even on wet rock – everyone told me they were the brand to get, but then I had got to the point of making my own out of a small tree, so I would have bought anything that was going. They saved my knees – a blown ACL out here would have ruined my whole holiday, not just this walk – they make it easier on the ascents because you can use your arms a bit – but where they really come into their own is going down: over 19000 metres of ascent/descent – that is around 9.5 kilometers you will be going vertically down, on to granite the whole time – it really does make life a whole lot easier when you can manage the hits a bit by lowering yourself down a little with your upper body.

It is really hard on your feet – I still have no feeling in one half of one of my big toes and I spoke to a young Belgian guy today who was lost feeling on one half of his entire right foot. There are some sprightly little chaps who manage to do it in runners, who spring from rock to rock with ease while chatting away, who don't sweat, or need to drink, or eat, or even sleep, and who never look like they are under pressure or struggling at all – the English guy in the photos for stage four was one of them – but unless this describes you then I would get good boots that can cope with non-stop jagged granite and that are well worn in. And that are not a size too big for you to begin with...

You will almost certainly need blister tape and the silicon pad things are a must – realistically, if Irish had not given me some after stage four I would have had to pull out – the two blisters I was carrying from day two were still painful, but the silicon stuff made the walk doable. They are a marvel – used a couple of different brands, they both did the job.

Plan for a bit of flexibility – budget in an extra three days for a rest day or two, or days that you lose because of weather. It is hard enough without feeling a sense of urgency about a plane you need to catch. Stage four was spectacular – I spoke to some guys who missed out because they hit that on the really rainy day and as they were on a timetable had to get out and get transport, skip a couple of stages to make up time. Which is a shame, because it was a blast.

Speaking of rain, I really rate the poncho as a solution – because they are loose they don't sweat on the inside anywhere near as much as a jacket, which means they don't need to be made out of super hi tech breathable material, which means they are cheap. They work as a ground sheet if you need one (I did one night) and would also work as a rough tent in a pinch. Also, they go over your backpack, which gives all your stuff another layer of protection from the rain.

Fuel – you won't need it to cook with, for the most part – all the refuges have gas stoves. So you really only need enough for a cup of coffee or (if you are English and/or depraved) tea when you find a nice spot, plus a meal in an emergency.

Once you get started you will feel a kind of moral pressure to get up at the crack of dawn, charge hard, then sit around in often squalid refuges all afternoon telling strangers how many hours and minutes it took you to do the stage while you look at the walls. There are better things to look at.

Don't get sucked in to eating food at all the refuges – it gets expensive fast – and you are often paying 20EU for a bowl of pasta you could have made yourself in no time. You can buy pasta every day or two. Pasta, a packet soup for flavour and a bit of sausage/cheese which you can also buy all over the place makes a nice meal and is often just as good if not better than what you would be paying for. There are a few places where it is definitely worth paying for the meal: the guide-book I had could be trusted on this – in particular the hotel at the end of stage three is fantastic – five courses of big serves for the same price you are paying for a bowl of pasta at some of the refuges.

Guide-book: I bought the Rough Guide to Corsica, by David Abram. My choice was based on the fact that it was the first one I found in Florence that was in English – it turned out to be a very good choice. He is an engaging writer and has an infectious sense of enthusiasm for the whole Island, the GR20 – and even the really difficult bits of the GR20. His infectious enthusiasm for the more “sporting” bits does get a bit much late at night when you are reading about what you will be facing the next day when everything below your neck is an undifferentiated throbbing ache... but then if I had listened to him, or indeed read him, before I actually started, I probably wouldn't have been in so much pain to start with. He also writes a guide specifically for the GR20 itself, which the English couple in their 60's (who made me feel and look like a crippled old man) had with them and rated highly. In particular I found his comments about water useful, where the springs were, how to find them, how much I would need to start each day with, drinking a litre or a litre and a half each morning before I started. I found that half a litre every hour kept me from dehydration.

Something that shouldn't need to be pointed out: don't wash your ASS-CRACK where people are waiting to fill up their water bottles.  For the love of God.  No one needs that burned into their retinas.

If you are a Kiwi or an Aussie – don't underestimate it. You go for a walk for 10 or 15 days in Australia, you need 10 or 15 days worth of supplies with you. The notion of being able to get shelter and food at least once every day makes the whole thing seem a bit like soft pampered Europeans playing dress-ups: it isn't. Because they bank on being able to buy food, they don't bother with anywhere near the gear that you need in Australia and NZ – this means they take the track places you simply wouldn't run a track down under, because the amount of weight necessary to get there would make the track impossible to get over – there are places this trail goes where a big pack is not only extremely difficult, but dangerous – mine came close to pushing me off the edge of something a couple of times. Not many people from Australia and NZ have heard of this walk – it is famous over here – like the UN with the people you meet – I only met one Aussie, one Kiwi, and they had to pull out – their feet were cooked – like me, they had too much gear, but no friendly Irishman to give them silicon pads. So if you do do it, people will be interested to talk to you because you will stick out a bit.

If you don't see a little red and white marker for more than about 3 minutes, then you are almost certainly in the wrong place – go back the way you came till you see one again. It is particularly easy to wander off the real trail on the last stage if you are zooming along with your head down, which it needs to be to see where your feet are.

Photos: 1. Why I had to buy new boots, part 1. 2. Why I had to buy new boots, part 2 – brand new at the start of stage four. 3. What now feels like loads and loads of space. 4. Where I had dinner – like I say, not many Australians here. The guy who ran the restaurant asked me where I was from – as soon as I told him, he ran off, found a Corsican girl who spent her winter months working in Sydney, then ran off again, found a guy who did the same – this guy owned a restaurant here, which closes in two weeks, not to open again until July next year. “We make enough money in those three months,” he added. I bet. 5. Where I had hot chocolate and a cigar. Found a bundle of 25 Cubans today for less that $1.50 each. Wow. This place has just opened, owned by a charming French primary school teacher and single mother who dreamed of running a restaurant. La table de Nathalie, if you are ever here. 6. A strange creature I saw on the trail.

Cheers, B.