Hey all,
Lovely morning – very similar terrain to the purgatorial nightmare from yesterday afternoon – more or less the same ridge-line I think (you drop off it to the previous refuge). The wind was still pretty stiff, but not the malevolent force of yesterday, trying to fling you down a cliff or at least drive you to your knees. And there was no fog, the views were stellar; I have a feeling yesterday afternoon would have been astonishing if it were not for the weather. That took a couple hours to negotiate – then there was a nice couple of hours though a bit of forest and fairly level and green open fields. Another two hour climb followed this to a truly stellar mountain where you could see all of southern Corsica and, in the distance, floating above the clouds over the sea, Sardinia. And then, finally, a long steep bone jarring descent – my guide book advised “care” if attempting this descent in the wet. Personally I wouldn't bother – I would just camp out above it and wait it out – the thought of coming down some of these slabs when they were slick with rain is pretty scary.
This refuge again had no place to hang the hammock, so again hired a tent, which I am now lying in and which is being buffeted by a fierce wind to the point that it feels like I am about to take off. When I spoke to K I had my head inside the sleeping bag and I still had to ask her to shout so I could hear her. This refuge is easily the most squalid of them all – it feels positively third world, and is run by a gardien so rude and sullen it is almost comical – even the French are exclaiming about his attitude – when I asked a French guy where the gardien was he said, with a shocked look on his face, “In there. He in not very funny...” He flat out refused to comprehend my request for a tent, even though he does have some English – a young English guy who is doing this walk with his father helped me out by translating the obvious enough request into French for me.
More wild pigs today too – the foresty section in the middle was infested with them. They seem disinterested in attacking me, more concerning with gorging themselves on something they seem very interested in eating while patiently waiting their turn to get shot and turned into sausage – good natured creatures, grunting and squealing rarely while they trundle about munching away – when I heard about wild pigs I was thinking wild pigs like we have in Australia – razorbacks, in other words. Thankfully this does not seem to be the case.
Exhausted. This walk is tough even with the right amount of weight: 10 kilos, not including water. With double that, not including water, the descents towards the end of the day do really begin to take their toll on legs and feet. The granite is very unforgiving – you can not afford to lose concentration once – every single footstep has to be thought through. And it is pretty tough on your boots too...
Photos: 1. A typical bit of track from this morning. 2. There is a track here somewhere. 3. There it is... 4. Nope, wrong again, there it is. Can you see the little bit of paint up there? 5. Where I had lunch, and a lay in the sun. Lovely. 6. What a bit over a week on the GR20 does to a brand-new set of boots. They have been good to my feet, so I won't malign them too much – hopefully they will make it through the next two days, but I'll give you the tip: if you do this walk, don't get boots that are held together with suede – not just annoying, potentially dangerous considering how often you really need to not slip. There is a hole just as big on the other side as well. That said, the same young English guy who helped out with the sullen animal who runs this refuge – he bought himself a set of Scarpas for this walk – the most expensive hiking boot you can get – kevlar mesh reinforcing and all the rest of it. The kevlar mesh on his boots had ripped. 7. That ridge-line in the distance – the right hand side of it was (I think) yesterday afternoon's purgatory. The left hand side of it was this morning's jaunt. I have just crossed the green space in the middle, have a couple of hours of mountain to climb directly behind me, then about an hour and a half of knee destroying descent to the refuge. 8. What you are nearly always walking on.
I took a bunch of photos from the mountain top before the final descent – have not posted any of them – they were all so inadequate, so completely failed to capture how magnificent it was, that I was too embarrassed to put them online. Also: pig update – apparently there are real wild pigs here with tusks and an evil attitude – the ones I have seen so far are only semi wild – are periodically rounded up and slaughtered.
Cheers, B.
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