Day 8 | Saturday 05/10/24 | 24km | 1900m | Vizzavona – Col de Verde
Gosh, sleep is so good. Honestly, I think I must have been exhausted because I fell asleep and I really did not move or gain any sort of consciousness until my alarm went off at 07:30. Have you ever had those just dead-to-the-world sleeps? Always welcome.
I had packed away most of my stuff the previous night, the joys of sleeping inside. All I needed was to finish the resupply in all honesty. Whilst Rob, Reid and I had been kicked out of the shop of the campsite (again, kinda hilarious) the previous night, Flora and Pablo were still in the clear. They volunteered to head up to the campsite shop to help finish our resupply for us, super kind of them. Flora also had a whole bunch of the cous leftover still, so she was happy to dish some of that out to me. She and Pablo arrived back with some bits and pieces and we set about checking everything was OK. We reckoned that all was good, and that we had managed to make the resupply work, despite our resupply box never arriving.


Once food and all was sorted between the four of us, we set out. We were wanting to have breakfast somewhere on the trail rather than at the refuge – much nicer that way. Therefore, we headed south, out of Vizzavona, making our way up the back of some houses in this village/settlement/train stop before heading along some nice wide paths, beautiful forest enveloping us once more. My foot for this entire morning had been aching and I had been limping when I got out of bed initially. Just the muscle connecting the top of my foot, top of my ankle and front of my calf was complaining. I could barely point my toes up without pain. I had committed to give walking a go and see how I was feeling after a kilometre or so though. And indeed, now that we were on the move and climbing uphill and warming up for the day, along with the tape and stretches from last night, it started slowly slowly fading to the back of my mind, fixing itself. Magical! Honestly, I was feeling so relieved by the time I came to sit down with the others by the side of the path for breakfast. I rewarded my body with sugar and fat AKA Nutella porridge. Good job buddy. Not 100%, but certainly workable. Still had my wooden spoon though grrrrr…
After breakfast and coffee, we set off through this forest. It was going to be a standard day on the GR20, which meant a lot of uphill. The southern part of the GR20, from Vizzavona to Conca, is much more direct than the northern half. Essentially, for the next several days, we would be making our way in a straight line along the side of a ridge, before crossing over onto another ridge and walking along the top of that in another straight line until we reach Conca. Oversimplified, yes, but that is essentially the plan. Much easier than the northern half that was full of squiggles and wiggles (<– proof that ‘egg’ is not the only word with a double g).
It was another stunning forest, full of beech and chestnut trees again as we made our way gently up this hill, switchback following switchback. The light was nicely filtering through the leaves as well, making a dappled golden light as we sucked in great breaths of this fresh air and kept the uphill grind going. I was not dashing away, but rather taking care of my foot and really wanting to walk with deliberate motion to try and keep as little stress and force off of it. But it was behaving so far and all was well.


Before long, the path led out of the forest and onto the top of a bald crest with the land lying all out around us. Behind us, where we had come from, was a deep valley which Vizzavona was now hidden in, and the mountains of the north – with Monte d’Oro dominating the view – beyond that. When we turned and peered south, we could see a ridgeline on our right, rising up above us. A large (in both width and breadth) forested valley was underneath us on our left. Beyond that valley was the east coast as well, long stretches of beeches were evident. It was so pleasant. There was a warm wind blowing from the east and the sun was gently shining. I couldn’t feel my skin crisping at all really despite having no suncream on.


We stopped here on top of the crest to regroup and check-in with each other. We also bumped into Pablo here. He had set out from Vizzavona earlier than us and had not stopped for breakfast like we had. He was setting up for a mid-morning coffee break with this wonderful view all around him though, so no doubt he would get some food in as well.
After taking the view in for a bit, we continued on, saying goodbye to Pablo. We didn’t know if we would see him again since we did not really know where we were aiming for today, in all honesty. There was a refuge halfway along this ridge – Refuge de Capanelle – that we had decided to get to and then figure things out. The refuges were now closed though which factored into things. This meant that whilst we could still sleep in them, that was pretty much all we could do. There would be no wardens to give us food, and the toilets and showers at the refuges would also be closed. Rob and Reid had floated the idea of a cheeky wee wild camp the previous evening and I think we were all keen for this. The question is just ‘where?’.


From this crest, the trail led back under the treeline, contouring along this long ridge we were now on the side of. This section was just real peaceful. A true bliss. We had our heavy, newly-filled packs on our backs, a clear path in front of us that wavered up and down, ducking in towards the ridge and back out at times, and a slight breeze coming from the east. What more could one want? The trees creaked about in the breeze and our footsteps were the only other real sound, apart from the rushing rivers we crossed at points. As we cruised along, we strung out in a line, slowly losing sight of each other in amongst the trees until we were just left in our own worlds and our own thoughts. At points we would bunch together again when we came across bramble patches, and then string out again when we had stripped the bramble patch bare. Low-hanging fruit and all.


Eventually, after a really calm morning walking along, we had lunch at the top of a little hill, sitting underneath the roots of a tree. Here, we finished all the cheeses that we had bought at various points along the trail. Particularly the really strong one from Petra Piana that I loved. They were all starting to vaguely smell though sooo… Fingers crossed they’re still OK!
Afterward, we continued along a small bit until we stumbled, unexpectedly, upon a paved tarmac road. It was so out of the blue. A small road walk later, and we came upon the back of Refuge de Capanelle. Here, we met Flo from the French boy band down collecting water by the trail. They had also left Vizzavona ahead of us (in fact, I suspect we had been the last to leave, as usual), but were staying here at Capanelle since they were doing the GR20 stage-by-stage. Which means they were going from one refuge to the other slowly. Michael and Simon were up the top of the hill at the dormitory and waved to us from the picnic bench they were sitting at. We had a nice wee chat with Flo, a dance-off with Michael as a goodbye, and then left Capanelle and the French boy band behind us. Ciao, mes amis.
Capanelle obviously doubled as a ski station since this is where that paved road led to. There were ski lifts leading up to the top of the ridge above us. We passed under these silent, immobile lines and back onto the forest trails once more. For that afternoon, we passed silently along the paths. We were in no real hurry. It was all the wonderful same scenery. Autumnal trees around us and tumbling rivers crossing the path orthogonally. Bramble patches kept appearing and the weather was still clear. We were also all listening to music and at this point, we all discovered Spotify’s new offline feature which we all thought was pretty wicked. Music is definitely a mainstay and essential for all of us and we all really enjoyed discussing bands and suggesting music to each other. It’s funny how music is almost the soul of humanity, every society around the entire world has independently created music. Human creativity. As Abba once said, ‘Thank you for the music’.




Before long, towards tea and coffee time, we started looking for a wild camp spot. We were coming to the end of this ridge and the trail, for the next several kilometres, led across this wide valley away to our left (east) and up onto the top of another ridge, heading south again. We had covered a really decent distance today. There was a refuge called Col de Verde that we could have aimed for, in the middle of this wide valley, but we a. didn’t fancy the extra distance and b. it was private, so no idea if it was even open, or how expensive it would be.
We headed up the final small hill along this ridge, and onto another bare-headed crest where we once again saw all the scenery all around us. The forest across from us was actually stunning. It is still fixed keenly in my mind. I think you could see just about every colour in its canopy. Red, golden yellow, orange, green of course, purples, browns and greys as well. It was so Autumnal. I think the light was also helping. Heavy clouds were rolling in, dark, but the sun was still shining bright so there was this deep contrast everywhere and it seemed otherworldly in general.



We passed along this crest, out of the trees for the time being. There were several herbegments and farms that we passed through, before dropping down off this ridge and towards a small, tributary valley, zig-zagging through the forest following the switchbacks towards the floor of the valley and the river that was rushing loudly by. We crossed this river and on the other side of the bridge, we found some wonderful wild camp spots, away from the path. Evidently, people had camped here before, there were three spaces nicely cleared out already. However, there were four of us… Therefore, after layering up (for it was cold down in this little grotto), we found an area that was approximately flat and then spent the next half an hour clearing it up. There were branches, large rocks in the ground that we dug out, and piles of dead leaves, but after all of these had been removed then we deemed it as a suitable spot.


We pitched up in our spots scattered throughout this forest, beside this crashing river, and then gathered together by Reid’s tent spot to cook dinner altogether. What an evening, great times. No frisbee though! Firstly, wild camping is always superior to staying in a hut in my opinion. More unique and special. And secondly, the area was just stunning. Mushrooms were all around us, and the roaring river gave us a real sense that we were truly in the middle of the wilderness. And finally, the company was alright as well. We sat and chatted about all sorts of things as the light died and we had to get our headtorches out, before we all decided to head to sleep. Good day for sure.
Day 9 | Sunday 06/10/24 | 19km | 1400m | Col de Verde – Usciolu
We all woke up fairly early and set about packing up. As I climbed out of my tent, I think the first words out of my mouth to Reid were ‘Brrrrr, it’s cold’. Sure enough, we had all found the night supremely cold. Maybe it was the damp air and the valley hidden away, but evidently the heat capacity was such that no heat was retained from the day and we were left freezing during the night. Additionally, my spot was severely sloped in all three directions, leaving me on that constant verge of sleep, but conscious enough to keep myself from rolling all the way into the river. Oh the pains haha
My bag was all packed up and my breakfast was finished and washed up before long. When everyone else was also ready, we then turned and headed back to the path and back along the GR20. We were heading due east at the moment, across this wide valley that separated these two ridgelines (I think I should provide a map for this blog… I should do that. And especially one with contour/relief patterns on. Note to self!). The trail led us through a beech forest initially, back into the light, and then broke out onto wide open paths. The river we had slept beside was away downhill to our left now. The wide paths we walked along though were super easy as well. In general so far, this southern part of the GR20 was just easier (he says, a-day-and-a-bit into it). And more forests, and definitely less elevation in total. We headed along these wide paths in the bright sunshine, mushrooms in the undergrowth on both sides. Red spotted poisonous looking ones – the classic fairy house. Clusters of friendly brown ones. Wide flat yellow ones and layered thin white ones growing on rotting trunks. There were families out walking in the sun as well, nodding to us knowingly. Evidently, the people here must be used to GR20 hikers.


Before long, we arrived at Col de Verde. By the by, I have no clue why this isn’t called Bocca de Verde… It would make more sense and keep up with the whole Corsican language thing that is going on here! Anyways, we were right not to aim for here the previous day, it would not have done. It was a private refuge, and evidently they liked their privacy because everything was locked up tight. Even the toilets! Rude. In fact, the only thing I think we could actually use was the water fountain. A quick note on the fountains around Corsica, they are cool. All of them, they’re just always cool, with little murals and designs around the spout. Also, Col de Verde refuge was just off to the side of a tarmac road, our… fourth or fifth one we’d crossed in this entire hike so far?


Therefore, with no need or incentive to hang around at Col de Verde, we continued on without much of a stoppage. The path, after half an hour of uphill, dipped into a secret valley. I don’t know how else to describe it. After the initial climb from Col de Verde, we fell into a little hollow, a little reprieve. It was filled with a babbling burn (because ‘babbling brook’ is too cliché, and I have to show I’m a little Scots somehow) and a small grove of Autumnal trees once more, their colours glorious in the bright light of day. We passed through this little haven and resumed the uphill climb towards a low saddle in the ridgeline above us, Bocca d’Oru. On this climb, Reid and I were behind each other when, all of a sudden, we looked to our right directly south and there, at the end of this large wide valley we had just crossed, was the southern tip of the island. It was such a throwback to the Takitimus where we saw the south coast of the South Island of NZ for the first time. Really hammered home how far we had come so far in so short a time.

A small while later (another half an hour), panting and sweating, we arrived at this bocca/col/bealach. Still haven’t settled on which word to use. We passed a couple a little before the col where the guy looked like the shopkeeper of Topping from St Andrews. The only time we saw them. In all honesty, there wasn’t too much of a view when we got to the col though. Instead, we saw in front of us, where the far lip of this col was, rising clouds, obscuring our view like a smoke screen, obscuring the coast of Corsica. We could peer east out over these clouds towards Italy though, across a sparkling stretch of the Mediterranean. The water was a salty, deep sapphire blue and there were the hint of lumps and bumps on the far horizon, suggesting that maybe we could see the Italian coastline… But it might have been our imagination.



The wind was fresh here, and I didn’t want to get too cold. Therefore, once we had all regrouped, I headed off first without layering up, hoping to stay warm by continuing to trek along. We turned right – south – and headed along this ridgeline. Flat, with not much vertical. Just along from here was Patri refuge. The path, well-trodden now, led through a high pasture. Rocks poked themselves out of the ground and the ridge gently rose up above us.

Before long, we arrived one-by-one to Prati refuge (I always read this as ‘Patri’ and unwittingly think back to GCSE English and Wilfred Owen – ‘Dulce et Decorum est, pro patria mori’). Lunch stop. This was a real beautiful stretch and I was in a really good mood as we had made our way along this ridge to Patri. Perfect weather, high spirits. We took our shoes off and made our way inside the refuge. Again, it wasn’t locked, just not staffed anymore since the official season was over. Still, better for us since the trail was nice and quiet. We had a little investigation of this hut. Several nice long tables and a small kitchen area and the dormitory in a separate room. The same as every other refuge so far, pretty much. I went and collected some water and put it on to boil using the refuge’s supply of gas. Tea! There as evidently still gas and electricity as we all put our phones on to charge as well.
We got our lunch stuff out as the water came to a boil, and then had a wonderful lunch inside this refuge (I’ll stop complaining about my wooden spoon). There were China teacups here as well, so we felt proper fancy drinking high tea in the middle of these mountains and eating our hodgepodge of fillings in our wraps. Delightful! We finished Flora’s mushroom pate here as well, so the end of that. Sad, it was actually very very good inside a wrap, I would heavily consider taking it hiking next time I am on the trails… In fact, I mean to.


After lunch, we packed all our rubbish into a single plastic bag and then, somehow, ended up playing trash bag football. Don’t ask how that came about, it just did. Reid had all the moves, absolute baller. I think we were aiming for ten keepie-uppies in a row as a group, making a whole lot of noise and cheering as we went. Eventually, we somehow got there, with Reidso doing about seven of the keepie-uppies! At least this time, I didn’t end up smack on my back, like that one time in Taumaranui!… If you know, you know… Before long though, we decided to keep going. The next refuge – Usciolu, good luck pronouncing that – was the aim for this evening, and it was still some distance, about 11km to do. We had only done around 8km so far from our campsite by the river. And this afternoon would be all along this ridgeline where we didn’t really know what the terrain would be like. Hopefully the trail was still good and easy…
We set out from Prati/Patri and – spoilers – this afternoon was just some sort of majestical magic. It will live long in my memory as a sort of impressionists painting. Having set out from the refuge, we again made our way through this low scrub meadow, up a steep hill and onto the ridge proper. Here, we set out along the ridge, along this long spine that stretched all the way south, jagged pillars of rock jutting up into the air like broken monoliths. Away to our right was inland Corsica, a large valley stretching parallel to us, south. Mountains across and crimson forests everywhere, heavy Autumn. Away to our left however, clouds and fog swept in off the Mediterranean and assaulted us. The cloud crossed the beaches and charged up the flanks of this long ridge and rose up, dissipating into the blue sky. The clouds, great large fluffy thing, just peeled away from the flanks of this ridge in one long line and as we walked along it, wisps of it rose past us. The wind was just keeping them from coming over this ridge. But it was a continuous cycle, so that it looked like it was endless, and the clouds just never got smaller. It as a marvel to watch in all honesty. I really cannot describe how mesmerising it was.




We wove away between these jagged columns of rock, smoothed down over the millennia by winds and rain and snow. The trail was well waymarked and was just plain easy going. Our eyes were fixed on this awesome cyclic display off to our left. Sometimes the clouds below us opened up and we saw deep, golden valleys with rushing rivers and tumbling waterfalls, before the clouds closed back over, concealing hidden worlds from our prying eyes once more. It was as if it was out of a Friedrich painting. I really wish I could describe this scene better, because honestly, it was just so stunning to witness.



Soon, the ridgeline dipped down towards Bocca di Laparo and we descended through some Autumnal forests to the col. I sat down, having arrived first with Reid, and we waited for the others. Robso soon joined us in high spirits, and then Flora came bouncing along. It was just such an uplifting afternoon, walking high above the world and watching this display like this. We were grinning and laughing as we ate our snack bars, before shouldering our packs again, and heading out once more. Once more unto the breach dear friend.



I was amped up and in such a good mood, I just wanted to get back to the ridge and the views. Therefore, I decided to beast this next section. High energy, lessgo! The trail crossed onto the eastern flank of this ridge, into these clouds, through a forest, and then climbed up through switchbacks to the spine again. It was a little ghostly, and as we were now out of the wind, completely silent. Trees loomed up out of the cloud and then faded away again as I passed them by. I pushed on, losing sight of the others, and after a hard, sweaty climb up 400m, I burst through the cloud once more and came out back onto this ridge, the wind hitting me full on and chilling my sweaty self. I sat down, just off the side of the path, and lay there, enjoying the views to the west. A watery sun had come out and it lay upon my face, warming it against the cool wind.



Soon, Reid came up out of the cloudy forest and back on to the spine, and then Rob and Flora as well. We were all in a good mood, but now looking forward to getting to this refuge. Shouldn’t be too much further. Just along this ridge, down a little, up a little and then down again.
Regrouped now, we set off once more. Evidently the wind was lessening in strength, or the trail took us far enough on the eastern side of the ridge, or the cooling temperature of the late afternoon meant that the clouds now enveloped the ridge. Before long, we found ourselves walking along this ridgeline now in the cloud. Super chilly milly! Knowing that mountains are dangerous and we were all tired, we decided to stick together in sight of each other. We threw on our bright coloured jackets as well, for warmth as well. We proceeded along this ridge, walking on sloping granite and worn trails, bright paint splashes showing us the way, like a sedentary will-o’-the-wisp. There were points where we had to climb down using chains, but these were no where near as ferocious as the northern section of the island. Mainly, the rocks hear were smooth and not at all ragged and jagged.



Eventually, through the dying light, we reached Usciolu at 17:15. Biigggg day. Again, it was a standard refuge. Since it was out of season (have I mentioned this yet?), it was unmanned, and as such, the beds were free. Win. We got in and nabbed four beds four ourselves. There were some people already there, as well as a miraculous box of free food! What!? OK, now we’re definitely winning. Amongst this free food was a whole bag of potatoes, two loaves of bread, ketchup, some questionable pizza… Yeah, a big bounty!


There was a couple, Lois and Julie, who were already there when we arrived. They were wonderful, a French couple from Brittany. They only spoke French (absolutely no English), and it was a good time to practice it for me and Robso. Flora even had a go, although she kept shouting across the hut ‘Al, what’s the word for [insert word here]’ which was funny. Still, if I may say so, she picked up very quickly. Additionally, there was an ultra-runner called Gaultier who was running the entire GR20, SoBo. He kept to himself mostly, and was planning on getting up the next day at 04:30 to head on out. No doubt aiming to finish it. And then there was another French guy called Morgan who was just a legend. We had actually been kinda leap-frogging each other for the entire day, but only at the refuge did we sit down and talk to him proper. Super nice guy, also from Brittany and surfs a lot. He had an Osprey Atmos though, good choice my man. He had also stayed the previous day at Capanelle with the French boy band. They sent their love via Morgan evidently. Close to bed time, two Polish guys turned up, heading north as well, but we didn’t really interact with them.
Well, after claiming our beds and talking a little to Lois, Julie and Morgan, we decided as a big group to cook the potatoes from the free food box. And as we were doing so, who should turn up out of the dark fog outside? Pablo! Pablo! He had returned to us. We last saw him on the col above Vizzavona, having a late breakfast. It was good to see him. Apparently, it turns out, he had also wild camped the previous night and super close to us, just up the hill from where we had. Crazy funny. We had a great evening though. We made a fire, ate a lot of potatoes, I stole a loaf of bread for tomorrow’s lunch (remember, I didn’t have too much food because my resupply was so messed up), and chatted as a big group. Super nice evening for sure. The weather outside was dark and horrible. Raining and zero visibility. Before long though, we all turned in, heading to bed at around 21:00. Good day. Big day.
Day 10 | Monday 07/10/24 | 16km | 950m | Usciolu – Asinau
A solid, good night sleep. We woke up at 07:00 and set about the normal morning routine. The Polish guys left pronto, heading north. Lois and Julie were quitting the trail today. They told us that there was a big storm due at the end of today and Julie had hurt her ankle, so these two things coupled with each other meant they were bailing down the mountain today and planning on hitching back to Porto Vecchio. They had been heading north. Shame, but makes sense. Morgan left before us, as did Pablo. So, as usual, it was the four of us left in the hut, having a relaxed morning. No stress, no pressure.
We left at 08:45 and boy, the weather was grrrimmm. Gloomy. Heavy fog and zero visibility, same as the previous evening. I think we were all suffering a little bit, yesterday had been a big day and we hadn’t had much of a break and as such, we were all tired. That, coupled with the weather, seemed to dampen our spirits and we slouched along through the fog, all within sight of each other. Same principal as yesterday. As trundled along this ridge, rock hopping and navigating the paint marks, we had a conversation about gear. Oooh yeah, always a good conversation to have. Namely, if we did a bigger trail (*cough cough* CDT *cough cough*), what gear would we change and why. It was a real interesting conversation to have. For me, I would change my sleeping bag (to a quilt) and possibly my rain jacket (to a lighter one). And I would get a whole new set of dry bags. But apart from that, I was happy with my gear. Especially my tent. We also talked about plans for further hikes… Keep your eyes peeled!


We were reaching the end of this ridgeline, and we were steadily making our way downhill, down off the rocks and into a forest once more. Corsica is either mountains or forest, or so it seems. And then, heading through this forest, we arrived at Bocca di Agnone and a decision. For here at this col, there was a junction. Ooooh. The GR20 is constantly updated each year to ensure that the environment we walk through is not degraded severely, either for the environment’s sake, or for our own safety (crumbling paths on mountainside are not a good idea…). Several years ago, they had rerouted the GR20 here to protect a high alpine meadow that the trail used to go through. Now, the meadow has regenerated itself and the guidebook and maps say that we can go this way, although there are provisos. Namely, this old way through the meadow is not waymarked, nor maintained.
However, we enjoy going off the beaten path, so we decided to go along this alternate way. It was also a physically shorter distance, so that also helped sway the discussion. Therefore, decision made, we headed off along this old route and immediately got lost. For about twenty seconds. All the old trail markers had been painted over and so we were just roughly guessing the way initially, looking at the GPS on our phones until, through the trees and standing water, we found a trail that seemed promising and we headed along this.


This trail led us over a broad, gentle hill and down out of the clouds and into a large open basin. The alpine meadow. OK, wow, Corsica keeps delivering. This meadow was spectacular. A more subtle thing, but still amazing to walk through. There were wild horses and boars that were out roaming this meadow in the distance. Patches of greenery and patches of red undergrowth were all about. Trees dotted the basin as well, their Autumnal golden shining through the fog once again.


We followed the well worn paths through this meadow, meandering through this wonderful terrain. Shortly, we came across a big ol’ pile of rocks and, our stomachs rumbling, we decided to have an early lunch. I even think it was before 12:00!… We had the loaf of bread that I stole from Usciolu the previous day. We cut into it and shared it out. Fresh bread, yum! We could feel our spirits lifting. The morning through the damp cloud and heavy fog had depressed our spirits, but now they were returning. I wonder if there is a correlation between visibility and moral… Hmmm… Or maybe food and moral… Hmmmmmmmm…


Having had lunch, fallen off the rocks, scratched our legs up on the undergrowth and laughed out loud once more, we set off again. The heavy grey ceiling had also cleared up a little over lunch and we returned to white puffs scudding across blue skies. We shed our waterproofs and jackets and then continued on along the trail, heading south. Beautiful, wide vales and glens spread out around us and golden trees and the susurration (a great scrabble word: susurrus. Not to be confused with Sisyphus) of the little streamlets filled the silence. Autumn was in full bloom around us.



We slowly spread out and I walked along with Rob, chatting, for a wee bit until we came to another suspension bridge across a river. We made our way across and sat down, waiting for Flora and Reidso. Soon, they showed up and we had an impromptu coffee break. Always the best type of breaks. Before us, we had the last serious uphill of the trail. Up over another mountain, and then that was us finished with mountains really. How is the end sneaking up on us so soon already!?



Finished with coffee, I bid the others adieu and set off by myself. I was feeling like some time alone with my thoughts. Always a pleasure. I made my way up the hill, pushing. Ragged breaths and straining muscles, I pushed on. I love a good uphill climb. There’s just something so great about conquering a hill and working your body. Clears the mind, presses all the teeming thoughts to the back and you can focus on one foot after the other.
I made my way up to the col in the growing sunlight. Looking at the map, I saw that this col was called Col de Luana. What, not ‘Bocca de Luana’?? Shock horror. Still, at this col, the view was pretty great. Pretty darn amazing in all reality. Once again. There was a great big valley right in front of me, deep, with a white frothy river running down the centre, filled with yet another Autumnal forest, golden and red. A little sparse in places though. At the end of this valley, over on the right (southwards), was Monte Incudine, tall at a little over 2100m. It’s head was crowned in clouds and it sat immobile, waiting for us. Eagerly, I grinned, and turned towards it. Another mighty effort. Lessgo!

I set off once more, heading steeply uphill. Every five to ten minutes, I paused, breathing deep. Away down below me at the col, first Reid arrived, and then Flora, and Rob. I saw them each arrive at the col, pause, take a photo, take the scenery in for a moment, nod in appreciation and then head on upwards, coming up towards Monte Incudine as well.
The day had massively improved and the blue sky was still high above. We each climbed towards it, step after step up this mountain. After an initial steep climb, the path levelled out and started a very gentle final ascent through a boulder field towards the peak, still wreathed in clouds. On this path, I met a German couple who asked if ‘this [was] the way to San Pedro’s chapel’ to which I replied with an apologetic shrug. I believe this couple asked each of us this question as they came upon us. First Reid, then Flora, then Rob. From here though, I made my way through this boulder field and finally reached the top of the mountain as the clouds blew away, clearing the peak. On top of the mountain was an almighty cross. Pretty awe-inspiring I reckon, if you leant that way. From an objective point of view, still pretty darn cool.



I got to the top and sat on the rocks under this massive Christ cross. For the next twenty or so minutes, it was just me, the wind, and the ravens on top of the world. I sat on the boulder and watched a couple of these ravens playing in the wind, dipping in and out of the cloud. There is something about that, about sitting on the very top of the mountain with a soft but persistent breeze in your hair and watching the silent ravens playing on the thermals. This whole setting got me thinking existentially (oops, sorry). Bruce Chatwin says in his book In Patagonia ‘If you walk for long enough, you’ll find your God’. This resonates to a certain extent with me. Not so much the theological part, but the time and immersion in the natural world, watching ravens play on the wind, these really throw your life into perspective. It gives you an appreciation of life, and acceptance. Religion has always been an interesting concept to me and I think ultimately it gives people peace with themselves and the world. Hiking, exploring and spending time outside do the exact same for me.
Anyways, deep thoughts aside (no need to get this existential this early in the morning), Reidso soon arrived and sat beside me, also watching the flock of ravens, wheeling around on the breeze. The clouds danced on this ridgeline, monuments in the sky, sculptures uncapturable by human hands. It was a moment frozen in time for us all I believe. Rob and Flora also arrived and we sat for a while here, taking some photos and sitting in the warm sunlight, talking deep thoughts.



Eventually, the trail called to us once more, and so we headed on. We descended down from Monte Incudine half a kilometre where we came upon a junction. Here, we once again bumped into Pablo. He had taken the other route, the ‘new’ GR20 one. Good timing though. There were also a couple guys heading NoBo who had just set off when we arrived. They were definitely thru-hikers though. Hyperlight packs and vivos. Oh yeah, hardcore.
We descended down once more from this junction. Our destination for tonight was refuge Asinau. This was literally just down the hill from here, in a deep cloud-filled valley, not far at all. Maybe 2km? A little less? But all downhill so in theory, not much effort. However, Rob Reid and I, we first sat up by this junction since we needed to organise logistics at the end of the trail. That’s right, we had not organised anything beyond the flight. Namely, we needed somewhere to sleep the night before our flight (which was at, like, 07:00 in the morning or something). Using the little data that we had at the top of the hill here, we managed to book somewhere in Porto Vecchio before long. Price wasn’t too bad either. Helps I am Genius Level 3 on Bookingcom… Mwhahahaha
Having booked a room, we heaved ourselves up and set off. Whilst we had been sitting there, we had had a wonderful view of the some craggy red sandstone peaks, poking themselves out of the cloud coverage. Stunning. As we set off once more, the clouds slowly peeled away, leaving the raw ragged red massif uncovered. A gentle throwback to the northern part of the island.



We dropped down this steep hillside. Our knees at this point obviously having felt the 12,000m of altitude we had climbed over the preceding nine days. We gently gently headed down this hillside, taking it real slow. I have no idea how at the beginning of this trail I had run down the slopes. Unreal. It was another truly beautiful valley we dropped into though, the cloud clearing out of it at the same rate we were dropping into it. More green and golden trees with red undergrowth. We were also hearing the sound of a chopper (cue Arnie) and we saw it flying up and down this valley. Strange. We had no idea what was going on, was someone hurt? Evidently not though since this helicopter kept shuttling back and forth. Maybe it was something to do with Asinau refuge?

Indeed, as we dropped down the valley and Asinau came into view, we saw that the helicopter was picking packages up and taking them down the valley and back towards civilisation. Things like pallets of crates, empty (?) gas cannisters, metal rods… Evidently this is what happened at the end of the season when they cleared out the refuges. Maybe this was happening across the entire island!
We walked into Asinau refuge and were greeted by Morgan. He filled us in on a number of things. Firstly, there were a bunch of workmen here who were clearing up the refuge, tidying it away for winter and taking things away by helicopter, confirming what we had seen. His second piece of news was less welcome however. Asinau refuge was being rebuilt and hadn’t been finished yet. Instead, we were left with… A portacabin. Oh this is grim. We checked it out. Maybe the size of the small bedroom in the Green? Like, 3x8m? 2x6m? Probably the later because I could lie down and my head and feet (my height is 189cm) would nearly be touching both walls at the same time… In other words, really not that much space. Additionally, there was no kitchen that we could easily use… Great. Asinau was just a bit of dump in all reality. Not going to lie, very disappointing.



Well, time to check out what food had been left. Rice, OK. Gherkins, not for me. That’s it? Oh goodness. Well… Can you guess what we made? Yep. You guessed it, Flora Rob and Reid set about making 1kg of pure rice, and then they added the gherkin juice and sliced up gherkins and that was their meal. I’m sitting here typing this and nearly retching thinking about it. One of the most feral dinners I have ever seen. And I think that’s saying something personally. I settled for the last of the cous. I could not believe they would actually manage it, but they did. I think I had the leftover (plain) rice that they didn’t eat. They may have eaten other stuff, but even the fact they had this as part of their meal says a lot…
Afterwards, when the helicopter was finished and we were left to our own devices once more, we all settled into the portacabin for sleep. Darkness fell quickly after all. We lined ourselves up, all six of us (Morgan, Pablo, Rob, Reid, Flora and me), shoulder to shoulder like sardines and squeezed in to the small portacabin. And we cracked the window as well of course, otherwise we would die of asphyxiation during the night no doubt.
Before we did sleep though, we chatted about the next day. Firstly, the original plan had been to head all the way to Conca and finish the trail. However, we noted that our flights were still a while away and Reid proposed that we stay one more night on the trail before finishing. To quote Reidso, ‘GR is fun.’ Couldn’t agree more. Therefore, destination determined (the final refuge Paliri), we then discussed another item that needed to be addressed. The weather. At Usciolu, Lois and Julie had decided to quit the trail partly because of the incoming weather. Indeed, there was a very large storm that was due this evening and for the entire of the next day. What to do? At the junction, at the top of the hill, we had checked the latest forecast. Apparently, the storm was peaking in intensity at midday the next day, with possible chance of thunder and lightning from 09:00 onwards. This worried us all. Therefore, we determined that the best thing to do was get an early start tomorrow morning, out ahead of the storm, and push as quickly as possible to Paliri before the main bulk of the storm hits us. We settled on waking up for 05:00 and setting off as quickly as possible, no breakfast until down the trail a wee bit. The morning settled, we headed to sleep at 20:30.
Day 11 | Tuesday 08/10/24 | 15km | 800m | Asinau – Paliri
Honestly, not a single one of us slept well. And there was one reason and one reason only. There was a hellhound loose. A hunting dog spent the entire night sniffing out the refuge area. Hunting dogs were let off lead and free to roam. They were radio tracked by the hunter, and somehow, when they caught the scent of wild hogs, they would let the hunter know somehow. However, until that moment, they were free to roam across the entire island seemingly. On their collar was this radio set and an unforgivable bell. A bell! So there we were all night, window open, trying to sleep and this ‘ring ding ding ding’ would pass by the portacabin every ten, fifteen minutes or so, waking us all up. Oh gods, it was the worst ever.
Additionally, it rained most of the night. We all decided to get up at 05:00 in the end as we had planned and we were soon under way, sleep deprived and unhappy. It was pitch black as well at this time in the morning, meaning that we were hiking down this valley by the light of our headtorches. Drizzle as well. High overhead, dark clouds scurried across the sky and in the rifts between them, we could see the small, cold twinkling light of the stars.
We galloped down this valley. It wasn’t steep like we had seen before, but instead we mainly contoured along the side of it, pointing south the entire way. We were mainly in a large fir tree forest, their needles coating the ground like we had seen further north. Water was everywhere once more, dripping all around us and we were al in full waterproofs. As we went along, I fell into discussion with Reid, talking about all sorts of physics. It started by asking about physics of lightning, before moving on to General Relativity vs. Special Relativity, AC and DC etc., really enjoyed that. Although I will confess and say that a lot of what I said was half remembered knowledge paired with my intuition and logic. Still, it was fun.
Before long, 09:00 ticked past and the storm was meant to be getting heavy from here on out… And it didn’t really… Instead, it kind of just remained this wet and drizzling day. Waves of sideways rain at points, but no real thunder and lightning and not ever super intense. In fact, there were even points of clear skies. Weather for islands must be very difficult to predict. So many factors, and so variable. I think this is the reason why forecasts in the UK and on islands like Corsica are always usually, shall we say, less accurate. Switzerland however, they can see the weather systems rolling towards them and make very accurate predictions. Also helps that the Swiss government have just invested massively into a new supercomputer for weather prediction as well.


This valley we were making our way down, it opened up into the southern ‘flatlands’, towards Porto Vecchio and Figari. I say ‘flatlands’ because in all reality, they were now like rolling hills rather than the layered mountain ridges. Nothing is flat in Corsica, come on. The valley opened out into this area though, but we were wanting to stick slightly east, so we rounded one of the arms of this valley end, and headed now due east towards the small town of Bavella. As we rounded the corner of this valley, the trail led uphill once more, and we once again bumped into Pablo who had fallen. Oops. He was alright, just a little shaken (not stirred) I believe. However, now that we were a group of five once more, we decided to head on up to Bavella together. The rain also really picked up around here and visibility started dropping significantly. The storm had finally caught up with us? However, Bavella really was not far at all, and so we pushed on at a quick pace, hoping to find some shelter there, and food.


On one of the final uphill stretches before Bavella, we were climbing up scraggy hillside. We were all tired, and knackered and wet. I stopped and turned around part of the way up this slope, and made sure everyone was there. Pablo, Flora and Reid I could see, but through the terrible rain, I couldn’t see Rob in his red jacket. We stopped and waited for him, but he didn’t show for a bit. Reid and I dropped our packs and headed back downhill for a bit. Just a little worried now. However, we found him within sixty seconds. Classic miscommunication. We had thought we had lost him, but he couldn’t see Reid up ahead us in this shockingly low visibility, and he’d stopped and started searching around to see if he had fallen. We thought we had lost him, and he had thought we had lost Reid. Laughing, knowing that we were all OK, we headed on up once more, picked up our packs, and made the final slog into Bavella.
Bavella was this tiny little town with about three shops, three hotels and three houses. Mainly catered to tourists passing through, and GR20 hikers I believe. However, out of season right? So all the shops were closed! Tragedy! However, Pablo approached the main épicerie, and convinced them to open for us. Super kind of them. We left our wet gear outside and only trudged our wet selves into the small shop. Flora and I bought a whole packet of pasta again, along with some veggies and sauce. Dinner! Rob and Reid followed suit, as did Pablo. All variations on a theme, but centred around pasta for sure. Mainstay.
Lunchtime though, and so after our week shopping spree, we headed across the road (after the suggestion of the épicerie owners) to one of the hotel bars and sat down for some sandwiches and drinks. Nice place, very upstanding. We had to leave our packs outside. But these sandwiches we were served, the bar staff were not mucking about. Hunks of cheese between slabs of bread? Yes please. And for dessert? Chestnut pie, noice! I will say though, there was a TV in the corner playing the French equivalent of MTV or something, and it was just very weird having that in our vicinity once again. Ten days without any form of film or video, and it was a vague shock to the system.


Soon though, the restaurant started getting busy with some regulars and people staying there. After all, we had had a very early lunch (I think around 11:30…), and the official lunch menu was only available from 12:00 onwards. We cleared out, restoring the place back to it’s respectable nature. I think we were only really allowed inside due to the horrid weather outside.
We set off once again, and the rain was off and on, having lessened in intensity. This last stretch to Paliri should be a total cruise. We headed out of town, through a motorhome park and back into the forest. We were super cold setting off once again. Inactivity and tiredness getting to us I believe. We warmed up slowly though as we cruised along this next section to Paliri. And cruisy it certainly was. Tall fir trees swayed in the growing wind and raindrops fell all about us. There was that dark green Mediterranean scrub about us once more and the soil was all a sandy red. Real nice hike though, a good hour or so of brisk walking, mostly flat, until we finally reached our destination, Paliri.


It was 13:30 when we arrived and we ducked into the refuge as soon as we arrived pretty much. There were a couple people already there. Firstly, Morgan had already arrived ahead of us. But then there was a Belgian guy, Joe, who was heading north. He was a professor and researcher in forestry which seemed cool. And incidentally, there was another guy there called Paul. Big German guy who actually was studying forestry as well! By listening to their conversation, I got the impression that as part of the a forestry degree, you actually get given land and told to plant trees and maintain the land, balancing profit and environmental impact. Alternatively, I could have totally misunderstood that conversation that I eavesdropped on… Additionally, there was another Belgian guy there called Simon who had just started and was planning on doing the whole thing in seven days. He was a waiter in Paris but was soon heading to Oz before long.
We had our group of people for the afternoon, and we sat around all afternoon, chatting to each other. The weather got truly foul at around 14:00, a little while after we had arrived. I think this may have been (finally) the centre of the storm, washing over the island? The rain battered against the roof and windows and the wind whipped the trees around us into a frenzy. Good thing we were safe inside! I had a wee midafternoon nap (as did everyone, I believe) and spent some time looking at the photos of the trip so far and listening to music. Sometime around tea time, Flora and I made a brew and we all engaged in a discussion about AI (not Al, as in Alasdair, but AI as in Artificial Intelligence). Really interesting discussion and incredibly relevant. And growing in relevance as well. I still don’t trust it. Mainly due to the fact I once asked it for information and references for that information, and it proceeded to give me false and fake and made-up references that did not exist. I know though, it is improving every day, so maybe in a couple years’ time, it will be better…

Once the storm had subsided in the late afternoon, Paul also took Flora mushroom foraging and showed her how to identify and cook them. Joe made an incredibly smoky fire and we all started the slow process of making dinner. My approximate, personal rule is to never start making dinner before 18:00, but I was watching my watch and as soon as it ticked over to 18:00, I got started. Starving! Flora and I ate our large pot of pasta together, and then before long, we all headed to sleep, ready for the final day on the GR20.
Day 12 | Wednesday 09/10/24 | 13km | 500m | Paliri – Conca
Final day of GR. A true sadness, but all good things come to an end. I got up at 07:00 after a bad nights sleep. There’s just something about sleeping in refuges that never sit well with me. I felt the same on Te Araroa, never slept well in the huts. Actually, I think we all feel this way. Still, we were sheltered from the storm and I got a chance to see a nice sunrise before sitting down and having couscous for breakfast. And yes, you read that right, couscous for breakfast. You know, because I had run out of oats… Oh dear haha
Before long, everyone filtered out of the refuge and went their separate ways. Joe, Paul and Simon all headed north, and Pablo and Morgan both left before us to head down towards the end of the trail at Conca. After a leisurely breakfast, we also left the hut at 08:30. The storm had blown through Corsica the previous day and through the night, leaving it clean and fresh with the same open skies once more. Real nice hike outta the refuge and downhill. Oooooh yeah, it’s gonna be downhill alllll day, going to be so good.
We made our way through these same pine forests with the sandy red soil all around us and just slowly made our way down. Reid and I chatted for a long time about all sorts of thing as we went. I actually asked him for tips to improve this website. I am not particularly happy with it at the moment, I think a lot of it can be optimised. Particularly, the email alerts (never been reliable), the blurring at the bottom of photos, the whole layout as well is getting difficult with so many entries. I need to sit down one weekend with a web developer and just get it all sorted I feel! Additionally, we talked about just, like, how website design actually works, fundamentally. Because I have zero intuition when it comes to computers and coding and all.


The terrain we were walking through slowly evolved from this wonderful forest into more rugged terrain, a final call back to the northern section of the island. No sections with chains, but the rock formations reminded me of pictures of Utah or Arizona or something, like Deadhorse National Park. Stacks of red rock, shaped out by the wind. But more greenery. I bet those stacks would be wicked fun to climb as well… It was nice to walk along though, real scenic. There was a warm, salty breeze off of the sea, just away on our left. Real easy.



We caught up with Pablo after a couple hours of gentle walking. We trouped along with him until we arrived at a set of pools, a couple kilometre away from the end. Heaps of interesting chats with Pablo as well, a real nice guy. Really personable. We decided to stop at these pools and wait for Rob and Flora, a little behind us. Naturally therefore, Reid and I sat down and dangled our feet in the pool, up to our knees. Our feet stank so bad. It was actually kind of embarrassing, but completely expected after hiking for twelve days straight, using only two pairs of socks! They needed a thorough clean. Flora and Rob soon arrived and before long. When they saw where we were sitting, they cheered and came charging up and didn’t really stop at all before dropping their packs and leaping straight into the water. Rob was a true Tarzan once again, minus the beating of chest and howling. Pablo, encouraged by their display, also leapt into the water and they all swam about for a while. The water was freezing, or so I was told. I figured I would have a nice hot shower later that day myself…


Clean, fresh and washed, they got clothed again and we set off once more along the final stretch of the GR20. Andiamo! Feelings at the end of a trail are always strange. Bittersweet almost. It had been such a good time, but the whole point of the journey was to make it to the end, and the end always came. A sense of suppressed euphoria as well though, knowing that we had conquered the ‘hardest trail in Europe’ in only twelve days, when the suggested length of time was closer to twenty. The trail really had thrown everything at us though, and we had come through it all together, and with smiles still on our faces. The terrain had been brutal up north, and the altitude that we had been required to climb was out of this world. The logistics were also something interesting, especially with our resupply box never having arrived. But once again, it all worked out. The weather was on the whole very good, but there were points of horrendous rain, that required us to make tricky decisions. Namely at Manganu, but also at Asinau. And finally, for my part, injury. I have complete faith in my body, but sometimes that faith is shaken when I get a small, part-time injury. Like this foot thing I had on the approach to Vizzavona. I had it on Te Araroa as well, over Christmas at Whanganui. The injury really made me question if I could continue and my spirits will always plummet when something like this occurs to me. Still, stretching, tape and a ten-hour sleep works wonders.
We crested the finally bocca, Bocca d’Usciolu (yes, really) before we wound our way down to the outskirts of Conca. We passed families out for a walk before finally coming to the final paved road that ran all the way into Conca. We passed villas with cork trees, their bark stripped, before we arrived at the end point, the GR20 bar. It was closed. Typical, out of season. Still, we had arrived, and we had finished. GR20? Completed it mate.



From here, we headed to a gite on the outskirts of town. It was lunchtime, and not a single one of us had any food left. Some would call that foolish. Some would say that it was perfectly planned. Having arrived at the gite, we proceeded to get some ice cream sandwiches and then called a taxi to take us to Porto Vecchio. Hefty price, but what had to be done had to be done. Pablo said goodbye to us here since he was going to hitch into town and then hitch up to the ferry at Bastia.
The taxi arrived and we bundled in and were taken to Porto Vecchio. We checked into the hotel which I had booked the previous previous evening, just below Monte Incudine. The lady at the reception took one look at us, asked if we were GR hikers, and then told us to put our bags and belongings in a plastic bag which they kept downstairs in the luggage storage. Evidently we smelled that bad…
We were shown our room, four beds and an ensuite bathroom, and you know what we did next? Yep. Showers all round. Good to be able to wash our hair and bodies again with actual soap. Next job on the list? Food. We were starved, the ice cream sandwich not working for us beyond an hour. Therefore, we headed out into Porto Vecchio town proper and found a cheap panini place. Food done, we walked around town, doing a spot of shopping for gifts, before heading to a burger place for dinner. I inhaled my burger. Reid burst out laughing because he had looked down at his plate of food, and then looked up again and my burger had vanished and my cheeks were packed to bulging. Burgers are so good.
We headed to sleep that night very late at around 22:00. Rob, Reid and I had a taxi booked for 05:30 to take us to Figari airport. We were all catching the same flight to Paris, and then from there we would go our separate ways. I think it’s safe to say that we all slept very well that night.
Day 13 | Thursday 10/10/24 | 0km | 0m Altitude | Epilogue
Rob, Reid and I got up and met our taxi at the appointed time. Flora was staying and checking out of the hotel at closer to 11:00. She had her travel plans overland once more, going to the ferry at Bastia and then trains allllll the way back to the UK. She waved us goodbye as we left in the taxi, still bleary-eyed.
The flight was easy, a lot less choppy than the flight to Corisca. I think we all snoozed before we arrived into Paris. From here, I had until just after lunchtime for my train back to Lausanne, and Rob and Reid had their flight to Berlin in the evening from Charles de Gaulle airport. Reid was spending some more time in Europe with Rob, before heading to Amsterdam and then up to Sweden before flying home to NZ.
But, until my train, we had the morning to kill in Paris. This was Reid’s first time to Paris, so Rob and I showed him some of the sights. From getting off the metro at Isle de France, we headed to find a café and get some food. We then took him on a small tour, showing him the Louvre, Place de la Concorde and the Arc de Triomphe at the end of the Champs-Élysées. And then the Seine and the Latin Quarter before I bid them adieu and headed to Gare de Lyon. I have no idea when I will next see them, but hopefully we will work out some future plans to do together one day.
Until next time.
Once again, thank you for reading all of this. Very much appreciated. Thanks to Rob, Reid, Flora and Pablo for letting me use your photos. I hope I have done our adventure justice. This trail was truly amazing. Everything about it was perfect. Being on trail with these guys is always the absolute best experience and I truly cannot wait until we are out there again, buffooning around.
But until then, thanks again for reading this. I have several trails coming up later this year. The two immediate ones, this April, are the Tamara Coast to Coast and the South Downs Way, both in England. Lessgo!
Reid
Karen McLeay