Stage 15
Week 3 - Stage 15, Tuesday 22nd May
Corte to Camping Campita between Ponte Castirla and Francardo (38kms)
Total Ascent - 926 metres
Total Descent - 1,297 metres
All packed-up and ready to be on my way by 9:30am. The cost of last night's camping was 38 Euros. That's: one tent for one person, a meal with drinks and water for this morning's ride. A brief stop in Corte for breakfast. A manky place and the food wasn't much better. There's mould around the lid of the jam pot! Found an ATM and withdrew my 2nd wad of cash.
A gentle ride out of Corte, up the valley towards Castirla. Phew! it's hot today and no shade on this climb. A brief descent to Castirla and then down again to the junction with the D84. I stop for an Orangina and a coffee at a small restaurant right beside the junction. I check the map again to decide whether to climb further along the D18 or head North and East. Miserable restaurant owner and presumably his father. Why do people decide to go into a service industry if they can't be asked to acknowledge a customer and say, "Hello"?
I decide to turn off the D18 and ride along the D84. The road goes gently downhill and I pass the most beautiful field of poppies in full-bloom. Passing under a bridge I notice a railway line on my right and realise it is a continuation of the single track railway line I'd seen yesterday. On my left I can hear the sound of a fast flowing river. Just then a fisherman climbs over a fence on my left. I quickly stop for a chat. He confirms there are indeed trout in the river and that about 2 kms along the road is a campsite which borders the river. Although there are hardly any kilometres under the tyres today, this opportunity is too good to pass up.
The campsite is 'Camping Campita', quite large but I can only see one tent on the entire site?! Further more, I cannot find anyone to speak to - the site looks deserted. However, the river is running and looks full of promise. Oh well, I'll continue on down the road and stop at the first cafe/bar to enquire about the campsite and whether it is open or not.
Not far down the road I reach the 'one horse town' of Francardo with a small run-down bar. A brief chat with the lady who owns the bar and a cup of coffee later, I'm in a more positive mood as she says the campsite is open. I Thank the owner and say that I will go back later. With some time to kill and realising there is very little to see or do here, I carry on along the road and out of the village - back on to the dreaded N193. Such a contrast; only a few metres to the right of the road flows the River Golo - the longest river in Corsica (90kms). Its source is South of Monte Cinto (Corsica's highest peak - 2,706m). Whilst enjoying views of the river I concur that the danger is outweighing the pleasure and so retreat from whence I came!
Back in Francardo there is another run-down cafe/bar which I'd noticed on my way out. Now knowing there is nothing else on my route, I stop for lunch. Although the building is in need of a little TLC it is quite busy and most of the outside tables are occupied. The husband and wife owners look like retired Hell's Angels! I'm reminded of the Tom Wait's song, 'Putnam County':
I guess things were always quiet around Putnam County
Kind of shy and sleepy as it clung to the skirts
Of the 2-lane, that was stretched out like an
Asphalt dance floor where all the oldtimers would
Hunker down in bib jeans and store bought boots
Lyin' about their lives and the places that they'd been
Suckin' on Coca Colas and be spittin' a Day's Work
The 'choice' on the menu consisted of one dish and I wasn't entirely sure of what it consisted, but hey..."When in Rome...". The meal was in fact superb although its ingredients were anonymous to me. There were a number of colourful characters at the cafe providing a certain amount of entertainment. At one table sat an extremely scruffy old man with a younger strangely dressed woman who every now and then broke into song!
It's 2:15pm and I'm back at the campsite. Very few kilometres travelled today. However, if I can camp here and fly-fish this evening and tomorrow morning then that will be fine with me. The house/reception appears to now be open. I step inside the old house and met by a blind and elderly man. He is a little abrupt with me but warms when I try to speak French and mention the hope of fly-fishing in the River Golo. He hands me a large numbered tag, also in braille, for me to hang on my tent and waves a hand saying, "Camp wherever you like!"
The usual routine somewhat hurried as I'm eager to get to the river which is only a short distance from my tent pitched under a grove of trees. The river looks perfect and no sign of human activity in or out of the water. A very pleasant hour passes but no trout to show for my efforts. One last try before calling it a day, so move a little further upstream and soon rewarded with a lovely brown trout (GRHE again). That will do for now. Back at my tent, I look back over the photos taken so far on this journey. In all honestly...they are not great by any stretch of the imagination. I thumb through the pocket size instruction booklet which came with the camera hoping for some enlightening moment. It's no good, I'm a bad pupil when it comes to homework, definitely in need of photography evening classes if I'm achieve any sort of decent picture.
A couple more hours by the river seems like a better way to end the day. Two very pleasant hours pass by and two more superb brown trout caught and carefully released. It's time for a shower and an evening meal of peanuts (that meal at lunchtime was sufficient for today's short ride). A landmark today as the total distance is now just over the 1,000 kms!