Hey all,
Interesting day. The climb this morning was hard work, but I managed it in 1:50, only 5 minutes more than the goat guy who wrote my book suggested it would take. Then I had this period for a few hours when I was on fire – my body hit a sweet spot and I was so in the zone that I forgot to even turn the phone on at around midday to see if there was coverage for a quick hello to K – probably not – there is none here at the refuge. Anyway, was having a blast – really enjoying the tricky clambery bits, just loving moving for the sake of it. At one point a group coming in the other direction (in other words, four days in, still at the OH MY GOD stage of the walk) were sitting at the bottom of a hill, looking dazed, astonished, exhausted. I was prancing down the hill so quickly that one of them actually filmed me on the way down – no doubt they thought I was one of those nutjobs who kept passing me on the first couple of days. Little do they know...
Then found this spring, which had been converted at some point into a kind of outdoor kitchen thing – completely deserted – got some water. And shortly after that it all went horribly wrong. The last couple of hours were just an exhausting purgatorial nightmare – I imagine, given the amount of clambering around exposed granite mountain-tops that was going on, that the views would have been spectacular – but in this case I could see nothing but fog that was whipping through the air at this awful rate – the wind was so strong that I would have been blown off my feet on more than one occasion were it not for the walking sticks, which as it turns out are not stupid at all. Being blown off your feet in some of these places is no laughing matter, considering some of the drops. Caught up with a bloke and a couple of women – don't know where they were from, possibly Russia – one of the women was blown off her feet – if I had had more water on me I would have found some shelter from the wind behind a rock and just called it a day. Jokes about rampant cow attacks aside, I did have a few legitimately nervous moments.
Finally, finally got to the refuge. Spent 10 EU hiring a tent – partly because there are not many trees here, but mainly because I was so exhausted I just wanted to crawl into something that I did not have to erect first. Cooked dinner – the same I have had for the last three nights (pasta, sausage, packet soup), smoked a cigar, and am now lying here. Over dinner I was, once again, told that this was Europe's hardest walk – about as nuts as you can get short of needing ropes. I could have done with some ropes in a couple of places today as I tottered in the wind.
Photos. 1. A typical bit of insane track. Bad enough, but try doing it when you can't see where you are going and are being blown off your feet. 2. Corsica, seducing you with her beauty, before turning into a rampaging harpy and taking your house without any warning. 3. The deserted outdoor kitchen. The pipe running into the sink just keeps flowing – the sink does not drain anywhere – just goes straight onto the rocks below – the are profligate with water – Rome was the same – for an Australian there is something almost perverse about it. 4. The deserted balcony and chair overlooking the deserted kitchen – was sorely tempted to have a cigar here – but it was getting late so I didn't. Just as well. 5. More flirtatious good looks. 6. Then it started. 7. And just kept going and going and going. I stopped taking photos cause they all looked more or less the same and also I needed both hands on the sticks to stay upright. 8. Unimaginable luxury. Finally, tried a video upload - a short film I took before it got to the point where I needed both hands to balance myself with the sticks.
Cheers, B.
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