Corsica - the Granite Island

A pretty good view of the island from the evening Air Corsica flight into Figari airport - blue sea, deep bays, maquis mountains and sparse poulation. It was going to be a good week.

 

 

The first day dawned (as they all did) fine, warm and bright, and the pattern was set for the week.... swim at the nearby Polumbagia beach in the relative cool of the morning, returning for breakfast when the sun got too hot, walk and explore, lunch/siesta, evening swim to watch the sun go down and chill in the evening.

 

There were plenty of posh yachts but not many people in the honeypot resorts, and hardly anyone on the rest of the island. I spoke no English in the week, mostly French and heard plenty of Corsican.
It was easy to leave the world behind, and find little gems in the barren countryside where Neolithic life did not change much until a hundred years ago.

 A hill fort here or an oriu there, seemed to have grown organically from the hard granite land. The orii, incidentally, are conveniently shaped boulders that have been adapted as graneries and probably hideaways in times of trouble.

 Talking of times of trouble, the Corsican language has made a resurgence with French government encouragement, and often road signs are bilingual. The locals are, however, still critical of the French after being sold to them by the Genoese a couple of centuries ago, and after subsequent perceived underinvestment, so the French parts of the signs tend to be blasted off by shotguns.

More peacefully, the Corsican music is thriving, and I made a pilgimage to the village of Chera where Culioli lived and sang, to discover that the was long gone. 

 Dorothy Carrington told his story in her masterful The Granite Island, which was a constant guide for me, as it combines travelogue, history and culture in this new land.

While in this village I followed a sign to the chapel which turned out to be about a mile along narrow paths into the maquis, but was worth the walk.

Conditions were perfect for a bit of hill walking.  The Col de Vacca Morta is a reasonably gentle climb to good views, and made a good morning.

Second port of call was Bonifacio, surely no port is better situated.

The hotel looked out over the harbour, now really a marina - because (as someone once wrote) I'm worth it.