Sunday

Hey all,
Day of rest. Found some maps this morning so things looking up there
– but have to figure them out – having trouble correlating the Lonely
Planet routes with the maps – also have to go to the supermarket, get
some more supplies, which was closed, so have booked another night
here so I can do all my organisy stuff tomorrow, then head off Tuesday
morning.
Some kind of motorbike get together on here this morning – the main
street closed off, people doing burnouts while the cops looked on
indulgently – in Australia they would be charged, their bikes
impounded under the hoon laws, there would be a finger-wagging
editorial about it in The Age which strongly implied the need to grant
even more legislative power to the Nanny Overlords, A Current Affair
would get in on the act: the host and the reporter would shake their
heads and look grim.
Here, in Italy, a boy of about four or five got in on the action,
zooming up and down the street on a little motorbike for about an
hour, dodging through legs and exotic Ducatis, his little face a
picture of concentration through the helmet. Bikers, even a few
patched outlaws, looked on with "Aw, how cute" expressions on their
faces and the police did much the same.
It is now seven PM and, after returning to the B and B and sleeping
for a couple of hours, I can still hear the screams of motorbike
engines being made to do nuts things – the old couple who run the B
and B potter around contentedly without the slightest hint of any
shocked, scandalised, censorious, moral-majority type attitude towards
the cheerful enthusiastic hoons tearing up the streets. Got to love
the Italians.
Photos: 1. Smoke from burnouts is visible up the top end of the
street. 2. The little boy at the tail end of one of his runs through
the crowd. He will stop in a metre or so, turn around, charge back up
the hill again. 3. If you click on the photo and zoom in you will
see an arrow at about the centre of the shot pointing to one of the
rock climbers on the cliff.
Cheers, B.

Dorgali

Hey all,

Have to email this in, cause I am out in the sticks, so while still online it is not 3G – which is why there are only a couple of photos, and why they are at the top in that weird kind of way.

Bit of a nothing transit day – spent most of my time either on buses or waiting for them. Bit of a drama in finding accommodation in Nuoro, the bigger town that I was going to get a bus to Dorgali from in a couple of days – were no rooms available according to the internet, unless I wanted to shell out on a real hotel, which I didn't. Then found a room available in a B&B in Dorgali – which is a warren of tiny alleys and built on a hill, so they all seem to curve around each other like spaghetti. Fantastic. Found the B&B after asking directions a few times – looking forward to wandering around here tomorrow – met a German couple at a bus stop who had just been here, and said that the rumours about being able to buy maps are true, so hopefully come Monday I will be able to do so, line up a walk for a few days – then maybe another if I am feeling adventurous. A splendid place to drive through in a bus at dusk – flat plains, huge brooding granite mountains, clouds, windy roads, little towns here and there.

Anyway – that's about all – once I settled in I went out and got a hot chocolate – was so thick I literally could not drink it, had to eat it with the teaspoon, like warm mousse. The place is buzzing with people in little groups because it is Saturday night, although because you can't see far because of the windy little alleys, it looks pretty deserted, just doesn't sound like it.

Photos. 1. Last shot of Cagliari. 2. The horror. K insisted on a photo. 3. Courtyard of the B&B.

Cheers, B.

The Promised Land

Hey all,

Drizzly rainy day up till about 6PM – but went out anyway in search of the Roman theatre which is carved into the side of a hill here. Bit the bullet and applied one of the silicon pads, taped it down, and put on my new boots – took the stupid blue things along for when the heel got too painful – didn't need them. These silicon things are amazing – I know civilisation functioned before they were invented, but it is hard to see how.

Found the theatre – it was closed because it was being prepared for a concert, but I wandered in anyway – no one seemed to pay me any attention but I didn't stay long – was not much to do apart from clambering over the scaffolding, in which case they might have paid attention. Then a botanical garden to take some photos of weird trees for K, who finds such things interesting.

Big win for the day for me was going to a Wind shop, one of the phone/internet companies here. Italy really is the promised land for 3G connectivity – if you buy one of their usb sticks it is 10EU a month for unlimited access. Amazing. Anyway, had a look at the models – the girl in the shop was really helpful – came home to check which ones would work, then decided to have a look at unlocking the hitherto useless one I bought in Corsica from its equally useless network. With the help of a friendly hacker (don't bother clicking unless you are a nerd, use linux, and need to unlock a USB modem) who figures that if you buy something you should own it, not the stupid network who sold it to you, I unlocked mine. Back to the Wind shop after siesta (everything closes from about one to about four) and just got a sim card which worked in my now not useless USB stick – I didn't have to buy a new one. Joy. Now have the internet anywhere in Italy for significantly less a month than I spend on my mobile phone a week, and it is not even on contract.

Kept wandering around after that – sat down for a while in a really beautiful church (Chiesa e Sagrestia di San Michele) – tried to get in the other day, but even the churches close for siesta. The place really comes alive at night and has a beautiful look and laid back feel to it. Watched crowds for a while with a hot chocolate and cigar – then caught a bit of an Audi sponsored event on the docks for some big sailing regatta – complete with hot cars, roller-girls working the crowd, and some weird Italian rap/rock outfit in tracksuits. I thought they sucked, but they must be pretty famous and successful – all the beautiful people were singing along with every appearance of enjoyment.

Bus tomorrow back most of the way I came the other day – glad I came to Cagliari and pretty happy with the Maria Chiara B&B as well.

Photos. 1. A Roman theatre, still in use. 2. A weird tree. 3. An even weirder street act – I wonder how many mice he went through in the process of training the cats. They all just sat their on their little podium, looking cute and friendly. 4. The beautiful church. 5. The dome of the church from the outside. 6. Cagliari at night. 7. An Audi. 8. Aforementioned band and crowd.

Cheers, B

Tailor

Hey all,

Got the bus in to centro this morning which was pretty straightforward – tried to find some maps for the walk I plan to do, but after four bookshops who did not have a clue (apart from one guy who gave definite instructions – I picked up “stairs” and “left” and could not find either) and an outdoor shop which also did not have a clue, I think I will just go to the town where the downloaded chapter says to start and hope that I can buy some maps there, as it claims I can. 

The town to start from, by the way, is about three quarters of the way back to Santa Teresa, so probably at least four or five hours on a bus. Planning in advance: 1 point. On the other hand, had I gone straight there, I would not have come here, which would have been a shame. Making it up as you go along: 1 point. So, about even at this stage because I am loving this town – is a bustling and occasionally grungy working city and port, I think it has been both for about 3000 years – does not depend on the tourist dollar, so the prices are normal and it doesn't have that kind of ambivalent love/hate relationship with tourists that places which do depend almost entirely on them do. 0.80C for a coffee, even if you sit down – and this morning had free wifi with it.

After giving up on the map I decided to wander around a bit, get my bearings – in other words got completely lost, still have no idea where anything is. But did find a shop that sold needle and thread, which I need because the button holding up my one remaining pair of long pants has fallen off. Had no idea what to do with the needle and thread once purchased, but I was convinced they were both necessary to the process. Then came across this old tailor who was sitting in his shop chatting with his even more ancient crony. I thought to ask him if he could sew the button back on for me. This seemed to amuse them both enormously – when they eventually figured out what I was asking. They were even more amused by the process itself – me standing there in my jocks, holding the pants up while the tailor attached the button in an efficient and practised kind of way. He refused payment – I think the encounter with the idiot turisto with the ridiculous blue shoes who couldn't sew pretty much made his day – I should have charged him. Wandered around some more – the odd shop with an English name, trying to be classy in the same way that the occasional shop in Melbourne tries to be classy by calling itself something in Italian – so you get the odd weird thing like “New Bestsellers” - a joint that sold lingerie.

Eventually, after a few quite lovely churches, I did find the museum I was hoping to find at the start of the day. Interesting place – free entry everywhere because off-season – they were in the process of unpacking priceless oils from crates – propping them up against the wall in a casual kind of way, waving me through past the stacked paintings, “Prego, prego.” On the way home I found a hair-dresser who only wanted 8EU to shave my head with a pair of clippers, but then did my beard, eyebrows, and gave me a shampoo as well, so I gave him 10. In Corsica I was quoted 26 just for the shave – could buy clippers for that. Got off at the wrong stop on bus ride back, but eventually got here about an hour later – cheapskate supermarket meal on the balcony – one of the nice things about being in the middle nowhere is just watching people go about their lives – got a long and funny email from K, who had written a pretend blog post about walking up and down stairs and so on in Melbourne during her lunch break, complete with photos, accounts of trials, wildlife, la refuge du coffee e refuse, and so on, which pretty much made my day.

There is some ancient Roman theatre/stadium carved into a mountain which I plan to find tomorrow, as well as how to get back to the other town I need to go to, as well as probably a little more random wandering. There are even more ancient ruins (many of which leave people pretty mystified) all over this island as well – might do the walk that takes in a few of them as opposed to the coastal one with all the beaches.

Photos: 1. Death on the roof of a crypt beneath a church. 2. Ancient citadel wall, modern port. 3. Check out those spikes – cars still drive through this gate. 4. A bunch of swords – they look impressive – are nearly as tall as me – but they are not entirely sure what the point of them was – I studied these years ago in archaeology – problem is that they are really long, but the handle is basically just held on to the end by a pin – so physically impossible to really swing. At best they were probably used to stab with, but even then you would have to be aiming pretty straight. 5. Madonna and baby Jesus – with male pattern baldness. 6. There is an theology of contemporary church architecture that rails against the use of stained glass windows. They are exclusionary, introspective, can only be appreciated from within etc. etc. These people are idiots. 7. A fairly ghoulish Christ.

Cheers, B.

Bus

Hey all,

Bit of a nothing day. Wandered around Santa Teresa for a few hours this morning – supermarket and a shoe shop where I got some cheap knock-offs of those ugly rubber duck-billed sandal things because my thongs are just about chopped out and I don't want to wear boots for a couple of days while the feet heal.  

Got a bus to Cagliari – had a chat for a while to a retired couple, half Scottish, half Dutch, but both Australian for a couple of decades – then went to sleep, which is always a nice thing to do in a bus – for a chronic insomniac it is a pleasant thing to drift off with my head against the window. Got woken up after a couple of hours to change bus – asked the new driver if I could go to the toilet – he clapped his hands in a “yes, but hurry” kind of way and pointed at his watch. As I came back some other passengers had the same idea, asked the same question – he clapped his hands so frantically that they both started running towards the terminal with panicked expressions. Stared out the window at the scenery and listened to the Cat Empire – is an interesting place – huge alien granite mountains like Corsica and then patches which remind me a lot of North Eastern Victoria – complete with clumps of eucalyptus all over the place. Answered a few emails once it got dark and then got into town – rorted for a map at the station, but I planned to be cheap and walk to the B&B – but then it was so far away and confusing that I got a taxi anyway – which costed the same as the bloody map, so would have been cheaper just to do that to start with. Not a real cab, just some old bloke in his private car lurking around the terminal asking if people wanted a taxi. He was cheap – he also took me to the wrong place – a flash hotel that fortunately was not too far from where I had to go – the flash hotel took pity on me, gave me directions and, bizzarely, gave me two home baked cookies to eat – admittedly I am looking pretty lean after the better part of three weeks clambering around Corsica...

Looking forward to exploring Cagliari for a couple of days – it does not feel like a tourist trap, though has heaps of interesting stuff to see – also, downloaded the Sardinia chapter from the Lonely Planet hiking guide to Italy, which is a lot more use for what I want to do than the general guide – there are a couple of walks that look interesting, just got to decide on which one – will find some maps tomorrow. 

Nice to be back in Italy – a much friendlier bunch – in general they find it funny when there are problems with translation, as opposed to Corsica, where it is often treated as outrageous, scandalous, abominable – the kind of reaction one might get in Australia from a total stranger if you suddenly bared your ass at them without warning. Admittedly I do stumble through an Italian word or two in a pathetic kind of way – the present tense general version of a verb when I should be using the past imperfect masculine, or something else hideously complicated like that.

Nice B and B here – 35 EU – more than I wanted but all the dorms in town were booked out – tried several sites – still, own room, own fridge, own balcony, own bathroom – can't complain too much. Is a long way out but on a bus line, so should not be too much of a drama – and if all the cabbies are as cheap as the one I got today I don't have to worry too much if I get stuck.

Photos: 1.  Corsica, from a safe distance.  2.  Sardinia is famous for its beaches - depending on the walk I choose I might find a couple of more secluded ones - as for the sea here - you may as well be in a lake.  3.  Not too bad for the cheapest place I could find online - on the right, behind the curtain, is my own balcony.  4.  The view from which is not wildly inspiring

Cheers, B.

Sardinia

Hey all,

Quick bus ride this morning after coffee and cigar in Porto Vecchio, then wandered around Bonifacio for a bit, found where to get a ferry to Sardinia from, waited around, drank more coffee, spoke to K about her plans for coming over to join me in the not too distant future, smoked another cigar (at $1.50 a pop, why the hell not), looked at the boats in the harbour. A lot of fairly impressive pleasure yachts, many with double hulls – would be a fun way to live, if you had the drug empire money to support it. There is a romance to ports which seems to catch a lot of people who end up taking photos of all the exotic craft – I took a few myself – they could go anywhere, although I suspect quite a few of them spend most of their time hopping from marina to marina around the Mediterranean. Also nice to finally see a bit of Corsica that was not entirely made of granite. Ferry ride to Sardinia only took about an hour – was kind of fun – but I miss the easy camaraderie of the walk in Corsica – have become used to striking up conversations with total strangers and getting a good reception over the last few weeks – it is the kind of experience that does that to the people that are on it. Still in that mindset I tried this a couple of times today – with an English couple who had just finished the walk themselves, it went well – with another English couple who hadn't, I am back to startled looks, nervous laughs, glances from side to side, a quick exit. Oh well.

Wandered around St. Teresa, got a map from the tourist place, found a bookshop that had a Lonely Planet guide to Sardinia in English that I could see through the window – unfortunately it was closed. Was supposed to open at 5:30 – at about 5:50 I asked at the bar across the road if it did generally open – the girl said yes – possibly fifteen minutes, possibly more – certainly it would open at some point this evening, probably. Nice to be back in Italy. Having a similar experience here at the cheapest hotel I could find – the guy who runs it is waiting for his son to come back to give me the password for the wifi. His arrival time keeps changing backwards every time I ask when he will get here. Hopefully it will be at some point before too long, cause I really need to get online – the Lonely Planet guide (the bookshop did, eventually, open) was not a lot of help for hiking, unlike the Rough Guide to Corsica, which was very detailed. Don't know how much I rate the Lonely Planet series – they seem to have the market cornered, but I am little iffy about them at times. Still, it gave me an address online where I might be able to find out some more – although it does seem that the trails here are not as well marked as they are in Corsica, where frankly the only reason you need a map is if you somehow get lost – difficult even for me. But it does sound as though the Cagliari might be an interesting city to spend a couple of days in, which I need to do – the new boots are proving a bit of a problem – just pulled them off and removed the tape I had put on my heels to prevent blisters – skin came off with it and now one of my heels is bleeding – had planned to do a hike for a few days here, but need to walk around in thongs for a day or two before I start that. I hope walking around in thongs here is not the Big Issue it seemed to be in Porto Vecchio, where it prompted stares and even one instance where a guy looked at them, looked at me, then shook his head. I pointed at the boots hanging off my shoulders, which were more hole than boot at that point, shook my head right back at him.

Is cheaper here than Corsica, although it is still a resort destination – the resort destination of choice for the rich and infamous in places (which I will avoid) – so pricier than I would like – but a hotel room for 45EU is not too bad though still more than what I wanted to spend for the whole day – the don't seem to have any hostels here at all, which is annoying, because I have resolved to try to stick to a much tighter budget than usual – funds are running low. Hippy and Holland inspired me as their running budget is 10EU a day – how they managed that in Corsica is beyond me, given that it costs half that just to camp for the night – but they did seem to – admittedly I witnessed Hippy remove a half eaten bag of biscuits from a garbage bin, so I am not sure if I want to got quite that low rent – but certainly I need to keep it down for a month or two – Corsica was frightfully pricey, with the lone exception of cigars. It cost me 28 EU for a bundle of 25 Cubans. On the other hand, it cost me 22.90 EU for a lump of cured meat for the next few days...

Booked a hostel in Cagliari for three nights – will explore the city – in thongs – and sort out some sort of hike to do for a few days, then back to Florence for a bit.

Photos. 1. Porto Vecchio – expensive, but a pretty place to have a coffee. 2. Bonifacio, which would have been fun to explore if I had had the time. 3. An exotic cat, populated with people speaking with correct English accents and I would imagine a web of shell companies distancing them from where their money came from. 4. No granite!!! 5. Leaving Corsica. 6. How awesome would it be to live in one of those houses, perched on the edge of a cliff? Imagine being able to stare out the kitchen window at a stormy winter sea in full flight, while you drank a hot chocolate. 7. Santa Teresa at night. 8. Some gypsy band that was playing. Was a fair crowd, but mostly well heeled and middle aged, so the dancing area in front of the stage did not get much use, except for one old couple who A) could dance really well and B) didn't care what anyone thought anyway, and a trio of young girls who were A) hot and B) knew it, and briefly jiggled about in an appealing way much to the delight of half the well heeled middle aged crowd before dissolving into giggles and leaving the floor to the old couple.

Cheers, B.

Blogger seems to have changed the way it does its photos - which is annoying, cause I was used to the other way and don't much like the new one - so they are a bit out of order and the text is not at the side anymore :( Will try to figure out how to make it look less stupid sometime soon, but it is too late now.

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.

GR20 – Day 15. To the Gites at Conca.

Hey all,

Well, am officially done. Slept in because the wind last night kept me awake until about 3AM – but was not too worried – a nice walk in the morning, then another rock-pool swim/coffee/cigar moment for lunch, then on the way to the village where the final stage ends I found a dog. It had a bell and a collar with phone numbers on it, so I assumed it was loved by someone and had just got lost, so I fed it the remainder of my sausage and poured a half litre bottle out for it – was starving, the poor thing, its ribs sticking out. I was starving too, by dinner, cause that bit of sausage was all I had left. Made a leash and walked it back to town – on the way I met some French people on a day trip coming the other way – they made a call to the number on the collar and arranged for me to go to the main bar/cafe in Conca, where I would meet the owner. When she finally arrived, a heavily tattooed young lady, she made a bit of a fuss over the dog – but the dog did not react at all: no jumping around with glee, no yipping, no tail wagging, none of the expressions of doggy joy that I was expecting and looking forward to – the main reason I dragged the starving creature up, then down, the last hill of the walk. I thought I was returning a lost dog, but I think I may have found an escaped convict and returned the sad thing to its wicked captors.

Weird to have finished – don't know what happened to hippy and Holland – they both just seemed to disappear a few stages ago – was talking to a German couple over dinner here that I have spoken to a few times – they are unclear on what happened to them either. In a quite nice and reasonably priced place tonight – was about forty Euro for dinner, a bed, a mini-bus to Porte Vecchio – where I will buy new boots, spend a night in a hotel, and generally figure out what to do next. Looking forward to getting online somewhere with a decent connection, posting the last few blogs, answering emails, and so on. Nice to have a good feed and to know that my bed is not going to be blown around tonight. Nice to have had a hot shower and be properly clean for the the first time in a week. Nice not to have to put on the same set of walking clothes tomorrow. Nice to know I don't have to worry about my blisters quite as much for a couple of days – can finally get the tape and the silicon off them and let them heal properly. Nice to know that I won't have to worry about blowing out a knee on a minute by minute basis tomorrow. Basically feeling nice. Quick chat to K, folks, Gma on the mobile, then bed.

Photos: 1. The kitchen at the final refuge. It would probably lose its charm a bit if it rained, but it didn't. 2. Heading back to the ocean. 3. A famous climbing destination – I hoped to see some people hanging from ropes, but there was no-one there. 4. The track, on an easy day. 5. This bit of track has been used by traders – good sensible people with mules – for centuries, so is sane. 6. My final rock pool. 7. Another one of those difficult moments. 8. The spring which marks the official end of the GR20 – and my starving new friend gorging itself on more water.

Cheers, B.