Stage
4: Pioggiola to Calenzana via Speloncato,
Felicito, Muro, Avapessa, Montemaggiore.
(42.7kms.) Thursday 10th May 2007
By the time I
made it down to breakfast, most of the other guests
had already left. I was in no great hurry to leave,
so instead sat out on the vine-covered patio and
tucked-in to a hearty breakfast while planning the
days' route. After yesterday's long climb, how about
a less-energetic ride today? Good idea, John.
At 10:45 I am
ready to leave Auberge Aghjola. I say goodbye, once
again, to the two French motor bikers and thank
Valerio and his wife for their fine fare and
hospitality. The first half hour's peddling consists
of a very steep climb, amid chestnut trees, to the
Col de Battaglia (circa 1100 metres). Wow! What a
view - I look down upon clouds and Speloncato
clinging to the mountainside 500 metres below and
the coastline away in the distance.
I had re-charged
my phone overnight, but was unable to pick-up a
network at the auberge. Here on the Col de Battaglia
my phone comes back to life and reveals a text
message sent last night: It's my son, Ben, telling
me that he won both his heats in the school swimming
gala and came third in the final, plus first in the
relay. I text back how proud I am of him, but sad to
have missed the event. Home suddenly seems a very
long way away.
I cycle through
Speloncato on my way down the mountain then join the
D71. The brake pads are warm after 14 kms of
downhill. On through the villages of Feliceto and
Muro. Near the village of Cateri, I turn left onto
the D151. The landscape changes as I climb gently,
the narrow road clinging to the hillside with gorse
and scrub on both sides. Rounding the next bend, I'm
suddenly confronted by a para-glider preparing to
take-off right beside the road. Another couple of
Para-gliders are already airborne and climbing the
thermals. The guy takes three or four steps then he
too is airborne. I dismount and spend the next
twenty minutes watching, jealously, as they rise
higher and higher. And there, soaring with them,
high above are two eagles! What a fantastic
experience to be floating hundreds of metres above
the ground. I did a couple of tandem jumps in Turkey
one year - absolutely fantastic. mind you, the first
time, I did feel a little motion sickness, which
surprised me, so took some medication before the
second jump!
A little further
on, I come across the village of Montemaggiore,
perched on a rocky outcrop. There's not much to this
tiny village, although it used to be a major centre
for olive oil production. For centuries the whole
area was renowned for its olive trees; however in
the 1940s fires completed wiped out an area of over
35,000 hectares. Estimates put the population now at
a mere hundred. The same fate befell the town of
Lama, there the population dropped from around 400
to a mere 60 in only a few years.
I grab a late
lunch - al fresco - at Chez Francoise while
indulging in that age-old pastime of watching people
walk by, not that there is much happening at 3 in
the afternoon. A small tour party and their guide
head off in two cars, and the street is quiet. Not
for the first time on this journey, I find myself
thinking how cycling is definitely the best mode of
transport if one wants to fully appreciate this
island (or probably any other). The group of
sightseers climb into their air-conditioned vehicles
(presumably, or the windows are stuck closed!) and
continue their air-polluting ride. Oblivious to the
many different and constantly changing smells of the
countryside, the subtle changes in temperature at
different altitudes and whether in full sun or
shade. Oh well...each to his own.
A gentle descent
for about 6kms followed by a gentle climb into
Calenzana. The perfect ride to allow my lunch to be
fully digested. In the middle of the village, I
notice a cafe/bar - the GR20 - and stop for a
coffee. The time is 4:25pm. Today has almost felt
like a 'rest day', with only 43 kms on the clock. Oh
well...I don't feel guilty. I'm sure there will be
some tough ride days ahead.
I locate a gîte
d'étape just a few hundred metres further on
and pitch the tent in a small field with only one
other tent for company. A fairly new shower block
and washroom is a welcome site, but my optimism is
quickly dashed when I discover it clearly hasn't
been cleaned since last season. Worse still, no hot
water! Following a cold wash for both me and my
clothes, I peg-out my clothes around the tent and
then head for the reception. The bad luck continues
as I discover the site's internet connection is
down. I was hoping to make contact with home,
however texting will have to suffice.
On my way here, I
noticed a small supermarché so I walk back up
the road to buy my evening meal, can't resist also
buying tomorrow's breakfast, a nice big box of
muesli!
With calorie
intake out the way, I decide to head for bed. Once
again the joys of camping live up to my
expectations. I have unwittingly pitched the tent on
a slight slope, so find myself sliding down the mat
and on to the ground sheet. At some time I must have
fallen asleep because at 3:45 the peace is shattered
by the sound of glass smashing and raised voices.
Suddenly I feel very vulnerable inside my tiny tent.
I tentatively peer out into the dark trying to
ascertain where and what is the cause of all the
commotion. My immediate thought is a bunch of
drunken lads are coming down the road, which runs
alongside the field, throwing bottles over the fence
into the camp site. Bravely I venture out into the
night. The drunken lads turn out to be the local
refuse collectors going about their work!
I crawl back into
my tent and drift off to sleep.
>>> Stage
5:
(coming soon[ish]) |
