Traverse of Turret Head and Seven Sister Ridge

The Seven Sister Ridge from Turret head to the West Peak of Mt Earnslaw has always interested me since I had a close up of it years ago in spring, bivvying on top of Turret Head. When I suggested we should have a closer inspection Peter was keen. We met on Friday evening in Queenstown after a medical course and drove up to Dan’s Paddock in the lower Dart Valley. Here we parked Pete’s car and set off up the obvious spur to the right of the creek draining Turret Head. I knew there was a marked route up the spur from my previous visit but it took some time to locate it. At 900 meters we reached a nice flat open area still in the bush and bivvied there. There was no wind and it was pleasantly warm and we slept soundly.

Next morning it was calm and clear as we set off early and climbed rapidly to bush-line. Then it was up tussock and scree slopes to the couloir on Turret Head. There were several hundred feet of hard frozen snow as we climbed up carefully to a small headwall where we dry tooled up some rock to the crest. This brought us onto a wide snow col and from here there was another short climb up rock to the summit at 2350 metres. There was a cold wind blowing from the north as we dropped down towards a breche on the Seven Sister Ridge. Here we did a short abseil and continued on down to a snow gully that dropped towards the Earnslaw Burn. Then it was a slow hot climb up softening snow back to a col 2240 metres. Above this there was a pyramid of snow and rock and beyond that a steep buttress of rock and snow slopes that had been wind-slabbing. We clearly did not have enough time to complete the climb and the weather was showing signs of a change for the worse.

From the snow col on the Seven Sister Ridge we set off down a short rock cliff onto snow and scree slopes on the Dart side. On down we went trying to sidle right to Spaniard Valley but cliffs and bluffs blocked our way forcing us to descend about 1000 meters directly down into a maze of steep sided gullies caused by eroding streams coming down the face. Eventually we found a lead across these and had to drop almost to bush-line before we could cross the last one. Then it was across tussock slopes sidling towards Spaniard Valley. Closer to it we could see some steep gullies on the outer rim of it and on one of them was a goat or deer trail which we followed successfully into the valley. From the lip of the valley I picked up an old cairn marking the trail down the cliff to the huge rock bivi. Pete headed off to get some water off the route and then we pulled into the welcome bivi for a rest and peaceful night.

The bivi is from the deer culler days when lone hunters would climb up here and hunt deer for the government. Year ago I climbed up here one winter with Mick Hutchins and Dave Waugh on our way up Pluto. I remember we lit a fire that night and Mick told us the history of the area as shadows danced on the dark walls and enormous roof. At 2.00 AM we set off across Spaniard Valley to climb up the Pluto Couloir in deep snow.

Next morning I was up early to seek water that necessitated a climb back up towards the lip of Spaniard Valley. It’s aptly named as there are loads of Wild Irishmen on the hillsides! After a leisurely breakfast we set off and descended the indistinct ridge running to the SW of Velpy’s Pass. Then it was a slow descent down to Chinaman’s Flat and back to Dan’s Paddock.

An ascent of Turret Head and the Seven Sister Ridge on 4/5 December 2010 by Peter O’Neill and Stan Mulvany

An ascent of Mt Pembroke from Thurso River

I had little warning of this climb. On Thursday night Simon rang and asked me if I was free for the weekend as the weather would be perfect for an ascent. The ideal conditions not only meant fine weather but also calm conditions for the 14-kilometer paddle there and back plus the landing on an open surf beach. I readily agreed as this was new territory and had the making of a great adventure. Years ago I climbed Pembroke from the east via the Lippe Couloir and this was a memorable climb too.

We decided to leave on Friday evening and stopped for dinner with Sue Lake in Te Anau before carrying to Homer Hut where we spent the night. The sky was clear as we left there at 4.00 AM for the final run to Milford Sound. We drove to Fisherman’s Wharf at Deep Water basin and quickly loaded our sea kayaks. Then we were paddling out in the dark past Mitre Peak towards the entrance to Milford Sound. The night faded when we were abreast of the Stirling Falls as we flew our sails and moved swiftly along to Dale Point. The Milford Wanderer passed us as we turned the point and we headed north to Thurso. The sea was calm with a small chop and we landed at the beach through a modest surge. Here we changed into our mountaineering gear and carried our kayak up the beach and tied them to a large driftwood log.


Thurso River was open and bouldery for about a kilometer when the bush closed in. Good deer trails took us up the river to the 500-meter level. I was moving along quietly when I saw a large gray deer staring at me a short distance ahead. It had spikes of antlers and ran towards me to see me better which startled me. Simon hissed and it suddenly took off. We climbed up the right hand side of the main creek and then swung around up the face towards Pembroke. Good deer trials took us up to the 1000-meter level where we left the bush and climbed up slabs and tussock to camp at 1100 meters. As the tops were in cloud we postponed a summit bid till Sunday. Simon went off to check out his old route up a pinnacle ridge further south on a previous unsuccessful attempt.



We set the alarm for 5.00 AM next morning and started climbing shortly afterwards. Easy buttresses and snow slopes led to the ridge at 1779 meters. Then it was an easy glacier walk to the summit at 2015 meters.


The day was perfect with almost no wind and clear visibility from Mt Aspiring in the north to Mt Tutoko to Mt Coronation in the far south. At 9.30 AM we left the summit and quickly descended to our camp and loaded up for the descent. This time we took a more direct route to the valley floor that went well though we did descend some small cliffs. After an uneventful walk back to Thurso Beach we launched our kayaks each of us collecting a wave in the face as we broke out to sea.

The sea was calm to Dale point with a gently westerly as we flew our sails. However in the outer fjord we ran into a very strong onshore wind that rose to maybe 30 knots and made sailing impossible. Simon is more relaxed in these conditions but I had to work hard to stay upright. Great gusts of wind would sweep up behind me and skew the kayak broadside on the wind waves. A swift stern rudder would correct this. At 8.00PM we finally made it back the wharf.

An ascent of Mt Pembroke via Thurso River by Simon Marwick and Stanley Mulvany on 30/31 October 2010

Adventures in Iceland

Iceland is a large island about the size of England situated on the Mid-Atlantic Ridge just south of the Arctic Circle between Scandinavia and North America. It lies on a fault line where North American and the Eurasian tectonic plates are pulling apart causing frequent massive volcanic eruptions, the most recent being Eyjafjallajokull which grounded air traffic across the North Atlantic shortly before we arrived.

Belinda has been keen to visit this country for a long time and indeed I have been curious to see it as well so we decided last year to travel there in June 2010. As a warm-up I went first to Corsica to traverse the GR20. We left on 7^th June and flew from Heathrow to Keflavik, took the airport bus to Reykjavik and booked into the Salvation Army hostel, which run a basic self-catering hostel. We spent 2 days exploring Reykjavik that is an attractive modern city.

We found that the best value in getting around Iceland was to buy a circle bus ticket which at 53,000 Iceland Kroners was not cheap. We went first to Vestmannaeyjar or the Westman Island to Heimaey. First though we had to get a bus to Porlakshofn and then a ferry. Once we cleared Reykjavik the landscape was lunar, a dramatic change. The ferry terminal was crowded with children and at first we were told the ferry was booked out but when I went back later they said they could take us. The journey out took 2.5 hours and was uneventful. I tried ringing guesthouses but could get no reply. We shouldered our packs and walked to the campground that was situated in the bowl of an extinct volcano. In the evening we set out and climbed Blatindur ( 273M) that was steep with lots of nesting fulmars on its cliffs. We traversed around to the next hill east and down to the town.

We got a hamburger and headed back to camp. It rained during the night and was still drizzling next morning. We set off to walk to the end of the island to see puffins but there was not much to see. We walked back to town and visited a Norwegian Stave Church down by the harbour. This was presented to the Heimaey people by the Norwegian government in 2000. We walked up through the lava area created by a massive eruption in 1973. This destroyed 360 houses and created a new mountain Eldfell. Advancing lava threatened to close the harbour and strenuous efforts to pour cold sea water on it worked stopping the lava 175 metres from the harbour mouth. We climbed up Eldfell which is a red cinder cone and found hot air vents on the summit and a cave heated by steam where we spent a while out of the freezing wind.

We returned to camp to find a strong wind blowing and a nearby tent being destroyed. We moved camp into the lee of the toilet block but this did not help much in the katabatic winds. Eventually we were forced to take down our tent and sleep in the toilet block. Next day we decided to return to the mainland. We got on the 8.15 AM ferry back to Porlakshofn on a calm clear day. Then we got a bus back to Reykjavik where we had a meal at the bus terminus, did some internet business, got some money out of an ATM, and boarded a bus to Skogar. There is a camping ground at the base of the Skogafoss waterfall beneath the Eyjafjallajokull icecap. This was nicely laid out below the falls that are very high and impressive. Belinda went off to take some pics of the falls while I got camp sorted out. Later I went for a walk and noted a thick layer of ash on the track by the waterfall. It rained during the night.

Next day we caught the bus to Vik, a small town further east on the south coast. It was drizzling again and we stayed at the Gistihus Arsalir in sleeping bag accommodation in a room to ourselves. There was a nice kitchen and it was very comfortable in the wet weather. We visited the folk museum and saw an interesting video on the Katla Volcano thought to be nearing another eruption. This volcano is beneath the Myrdalsjokull icecap nearby. Its previous eruption was in 1918. An eruption is expected to release 200,00-300,000 tons of ice/water per second. We were going to walk up the hill behind town but the weather was too miserable. Belinda went off and photographed a colony of Arctic Terns.

We had a comfortable night at Gistihus Arsalir and decided to travel on to Skaftafell. We left our packs there and went for a walk up the hill for a better view. We met a nice French couple in their 70’s. Cloud covered the icecaps and there were good views along the coast. At lunchtime we got the bus onwards passing enormous glaciers of the Vatnajokull icecap. We arrived at the park HQ at Skaftafell where there is a nice campground.

The views were superlative. As it was sunny and warm we decided to head off after pitching the tent for a walk up Skaftafellsheidi, the mountain behind the campground. The track climbs up through low birch forest to an open heathland with great views of Skaftafelljokull ice stream. It climbs to a place called Glama at 650 m. that is a fine view point. Belinda took a shorter route back and I carried on around the base of Kristinartindar to another view-point at Nyrorihnaukur. From here there was a ridge walk back to the campground. We cooked dinner and discussed plans for the morrow. Belinda graciously said I was free to do an ascent of Hvannadalshnukur (2110m) the highest peak in Iceland that was now clear rising above the Vatnajokull.

I awoke at 4.00AM and it was daylight of course as there is no darkness in June in Iceland. I had some food and stole away from the tent and walked 14 kilometres to Sandfell where the track up the mountain starts. I missed the turnoff at first and had to backtrack. There were 3 glacier guide vehicles parked there and no sign of anyone about. I started up the track at about 8.00. This sidled up rocks and then loose scree onto a grassy upland. Higher up the track headed for a rocky ridge that climbed up to the left onto a rocky ridge. Here there were some stone cairns to follow but these eventually disappeared. I carried on up to some stony hills and beyond them lay a glacier partially clouded in. Thankfully there were steps up the glacier that I followed. The view was obscured by cloud higher up and the glacier gently climbed into this. The going was easy in neve ice but higher up I reached soft snow and the footprints were old so I was kicking steps from then on. The cloud thickened and I was concerned it might snow and put paid to my climb. At about 1900 metres in mist I suddenly met a roped party descending led by a female guide. We exchanged pleasanteries. They were obviously startled to find a solo climber seemingly inadequately dressed ( in shorts) and sporting an ice-axe and leki pole ascending alone. Then I was on the plateau of the Vatnajokull and level walking in whiteout to the west for maybe 20 minutes till all of a sudden it cleared revealing a magnificent glaciated peak right in front of me. I easily climbed up steps on steep slopes to the wide summit reaching it at 14.15.

It had taken me 6 hours to climb 2000 metres. There was an extensive view all around of the Vatnajukull ice cap and cloud filled all the valleys and coastal plain. I took a few photos and started a rapid descent. At the edge of the ice cap was the cloud that I entered and made fast progress down this to the rocky ridge. Lower down the cloud was quite thick and I had to guess my way down the ridge. Then suddenly I dropped below the cloud layer and could make out my ascent route. Out on the sandurs, braided streams sparkled in the westering sun. I reached the car park at tea time where I stopped to change into my road shoes as my mountaineering boots were too painful to wear on the return 14 kilometer walk. I returned back to camp at 20.00 after a 15 hour day pretty happy with the effort. It was good to see Belinda and she had had an easy, enjoyable day though she found her walk a fizzer.

The next day we caught the bus to Hofn, a town to the east of Skaftafell. At Jokulsarolon we stopped for an hour. There was a large lake filled with ice bergs calving off a vast outwash glacier of the Vatnajokull. A River carried them into the sea. It was windy and cold.

Arriving in Hofn we walked to the Hvammur Guesthouse to find there were several building in town by the company and our accommodation was at the other end of town. The directions we were given were vague so we set off and of course could not find it. Eventually after considerable trouble we found our accommodation that was very nice and modern. The following day we caught the next bus to Egilsstadoir and in the middle of nowhere we had a flat tire. It was windy and wet as the poor bus driver had to change the tire only to find the spare did not fit. Luckily some locals stopped to help and took the tire away and got it fixed. From Egilsstadoir we caught another but to Seydisfjordur. The ride was spectacular as we climbed over an alpine pass covered in deep snow and frozen lakes and then plunged down into a gorgeous green valley with a colourful town in the fjord.

We stayed at the youth hostel and unfortunately we had an elderly fat American woman with a handicapped son in our room who made a lot of noise all night. We left the next day for lake Myvatn.

The bus journey was interesting as we crossed quite barren landscape and then seemed to reach a green, warmer land of lakes and small volcanos. Accommodation was limited so we opted for a campground on the north side of town. I was concerned about the wind and whether it would affect our tent but it seemed to be OK. Late in the day some people arrived and camped near us wakening us up. I slept poorly.

We woke to another good day. We hired mountain bikes at the campground and on the way out dropped into a local hotel and enquired about hiring a car for the next day, a fortuitous decision in retrospect. We visited Hverfell that is a symmetrical Tephra Volcano. We climbed it and walked around the rim.

Then we biked on to Dimmuborgir that are lava fields with weird arches and pillars where we went for a walk. Further south we came to Hofoi that is a forested headland on Lake Myvatn.

It was warm and sunny as we went for a walk around it. There were lots of birds on the lake diving for fish. Further on was the town of Skutustadir. Here there were clusters of pseudocraters. Then we were biking up the western side of the lake on narrow tar sealed roads. About 5 kilometres from the campsite I skidded on the side of the road and crashed heavily onto the hardtop. The crash was so unexpected and violent I was just stunned but one look at my left hand confirmed my worst fears. In addition to a laceration there was deformity to the base of my little finger very suggestive of a fracture. Blood dripped off my face and my shoulder did not feel good. I managed to get to my feet and then found the front axle of the bike was broken so I wheeled it all the way back to the camp 5 kilometres away. I then pulled out my first aid kit boiled up my surgical kit and stitched up the wound without any local anaesthetic. We found some cardboard that we fashioned into a splint.

The following day we picked up the hire car and drove to Akureyri, Iceland’s second city on the Eyjafjordur fjord. It was about 100 kilometres away. Once there we found the hospital and went to the Emergency Department where I had my hand x-rayed that revealed an angulated fracture of the left 5^th metacarpal bone. I saw an orthopaedic surgeon there who gave me a local anaesthetic and manipulated it and put it in a plaster. I paid the account and left. We drove to Husavik where I had booked accommodation in the Adalbjorg Guesthouse. A pleasant older couple ran it. Belinda went off on a whale watching trip while I cruised the town.

After a pleasant night we left early next day and drove north and then east to Asbyrgi that lies in the Jokulsargljufur National Park. We parked our hire car there and went for a walk up on the Eyjan Rock Island. This was interesting but by no means spectacular. We then continued south to a barren plateau to visit Dettifoss, Europe’s biggest waterfall by volume. It is 100m wide and 45m high and a powerful sight. It tumbles over a cliff creating its own rainbow and its mist nutures mosses on the surrounding cliffs.

Then it was on to Krafla to see the steam vents and an active thermal field with boiling mid holes. Belinda went to see the bird museum and then we climbed Vindbelglarfjall 529m and a great viewpoint over Lake Myvatn. We camped that night at the other campground at Bjarg beside the lake.

Next day it was back on the bus to Akureyri that left in the afternoon. We picked a nice place to stay there up the hill from the bus terminus called Gistiheimilid Sulur. This had a nice room and guest kitchen. Once we checked in we took off and found the Public Library and spent an hour on the internet. Then we picked up some food for dinner back at our accommodation. Belinda was feeling unwell so did not eat much. Our next jump was to Isafjordur in the Westfjords. We had to make 3 bus connections to get there. On the way I rang all the guesthouses and they were either full or too expensive so we decided to camp. The camping ground is a lawn outside the Edda Hotel that only operates when the local high school is in recess.

On Wednesday we took the boat to Hysteyri in the afternoon. We planned on a 5-day tramp in Hornstrandir, a huge mountainous peninsula between Jokulfirdir and the Denmark Strait. We bought 5 days food in the local supermarket and left surplus gear at the Information Centre and caught the boat in the afternoon. Its quite a way across the fjord which took at least an hour. When we arrived we met an American called Henry Romer who was also planning a tramp there. From Hysteyri we followed a track along the side of the fjord and then climbed about 230m onto a plateau. The route was marked by giant cairns. Snow lay deep upon the surrounding flat-topped mountains. Eventually we reached a pass called Kjaransvikurskard 410m. On the far side we descended a valley to a green coastal plain at Hloduvik where we set up camp beside a mound covered in Angelica, site of an abandoned farm.

The coastline was littered in drift logs washed up from North America. We had a leisurely start and walked around the coast to Budir where there was a house and campsite. I was unsure at that stage if we were allowed to freedom camp but no one seemed to mind. There were a number of campers there who waved to us. I recognised one tent belonging to the not so secret “widdler”. I had the misfortune of walking past that tent one morning back in Isafjordur when the female occupant decided to have a pee in the vestibule of her tent not realising it was pretty obvious to passing traffic! The track climbed up a steep hill over a pass at 300m and then contoured along an upland plain past tarns and snow drifts to the Atlaskaro Pass.

From here we dropped to the sea and walked around the coast to Hornavik Bay. We passed a red emergency shelter like a space capsule and then past Hofn we continued along to the river that we waded across and camped by a volcanic dyke. There was a cold wind off the sea and there were lots of bright flowers so it was not all grim.

It drizzled during the night and was cold but we were snug in our sleeping bags and tent. We awoke to a pleasant day though still cloudy. The pressure was high at 1017mb a promising sign. I got up first and got breakfast ready. Then B got up. We decided to collapse the tent in case the wind got up and left our surplus gear for our day hike out to the Hornbjarg. This great hook like peninsula has one of the largest sea bird colonies in Europe on it vertical cliffs and is a ‘must see’ in Hornstrandir. We walked along the beach past a farm house towards the far end of the peninsula and then climbed up a track to 200m where the cliffs start. Just then an arctic fox popped up from the cliff in front of us carrying a large white bird in its mouth.

It trotted past hardly noticing us and headed off down to a dip on the ridge to feed its young. We gingerly peered over the edge to see lots of birds mostly Brunnicks Guillemots, Kittewakes, some Puffins and Fulmars.

Belinda was in her element photographing madly. We climbed over Midfell. There were great views over to a sharp crennleatd peak called Kalfatinder. Off to the south cloud was layering and spilling over the main divide peaks.

We dropped down to the coast and walked back to our campsite. There we packed up and walked back to Hofn to camp among the drift wood there.

Hofn was a pleasant spot with some large driftwood logs and a nice camping area with some toilets. There were a few people camped there including Henry, the American. He joined us for dinner which we had sitting on the grass behind a log sheltering us from the ever present wind. He told us of a nice Icelandic movie called “ Children of Nature” which we could not find prior to our departure from Iceland. An Arctic fox paid us a visit quite unafraid. I think one of the locals feeds them.

The next day was fine and I suggested to Belinda we return by a different route to Hysteyri via Veidileysufjordur, the next fjord to the east of Hysteyrarfjordur. It was a pleasant morning though a cold wind blew off the sea. We said goodbye to Henry and set off for the Hafnarskard, the pass through the mountains to Veidileysufjordur. A path led up the valley and then petered out but I guessed we had to climb up to the upland plateau to find our pass. Sure enough when we reached it a line of tall stone cairns tracked off towards the mountains now covered in cloud. B was not happy because her pack was heavy so offloaded gear onto me. We eventually found the pass and crossed over to a gorgeous sight of the fjord below us.
We photographed a golden plover on the descent. We walked around the coast to camp at Steinolfsstaoir, a deserted creek by the sea. We had a wash and set up camp. There was no sign of a track over the mountains but I had a hunch where the route would go.

The map shows a route swinging to the north beside a stream and then trending off to the west to cross over a mountain to the Kjaransvikurskard. There were no guiding cairns but the route was straightforward. The highest pint was 618 metres, a flat snow-covered windswept plateau. Once we reached the pass we had crossed on the way in it was a straightforward descent back to Hysteyri.

Arriving there we spied people getting on the boat across to Isafjordur so we asked if we could go a day early. This was a good move as it was blowing quite hard and I think we might have had some difficulty pitching the tent. Back at Isafjordur we booked into the Gistihusid Gamla. We went to a nice Thai restaurant for a meal and then bought some groceries plus a huge tart. Back at the guest house we shared a room with a Swiss couple on their honeymoon.

We had a restless night as it was hot where we stayed. We got away to the information centre where the bus leaves from only to find it had just left. The bus time table said 9.30 but in fact it left at 9.00. Then Daniel and Merlesse, the Swiss couple who shared our room turned up in a hire car and invited us to spend the day with them. Their boat to Hornavik was out of action. So we left our surplus gear in the Information Centre and drove out Bolingarvik to the road end where there were a few houses and a desolate beach where we went for a walk. On the way back we walked up a gravel road to the top of Bolafjall where there was a great view out across Isafjardardjup to Hornstrandir. Back in Isafjordur I treated our friends to a hot drink and a pastry. Then we retired to the library to use the internet for an hour. We decided to camp that night at Edda.

We now had another two days to spend in Isafjordur till the next bus out. That’s the problem with buses in parts of remote Iceland in that the bus service is so infrequent. Finally on 30^th we got the bus south. Belinda did a side trip to Latraberg to see puffins while I took an earlier ferry across to Stykkisholmar. The hostel there was full so we camped just out of town. Next day we carried on the Olafvik hoping to climb Snaefellsjokull that is a glaciated volcano at the tip of the Snaefellsness peninsula. It was not a good day as B wanted to go there despite a bad forecast and then refused to camp in the rain and insisted on staying in a hotel. As it turned out it was great value at 8500 ISK about $95 NZD. It poured all day and blew a gale so we spend most of the time indoors.

After a nice breakfast we caught the bus to Reykjavik as the barometric pressure was low though there was some sun and blue sky. We stayed in the Salvation Army hostel there and then flew back to London a week early. And so ended our Icelandic trip. My lasting impressions were of a unique landscape, an inspiring climb to the top of the Vatnajokull, the magnificent cliffs of the Hornbjarg and a broken hand.

An account of a trip to Iceland 7/6/10-3/8/10 by Belinda and Stanley Mulvany

The GR20_ Traverse of the Mountains of Corsica

Corsica is a large island in the Mediterranean, a department of France. Down its spine lies a rugged range of granite mountains and along the spine is a rough track named the Grand Randonne 20, 190 kilometers long and with 25,000 metes of ascent and descent. It is without doubt one of the worlds great high alpine treks and for this reason I set off in May 2010 on a solo quest of this great route.

I flew via London where I stayed briefly with my cousin Theresa and her partner Phil at Dulwich that is sort of a second home for me and then caught a Ryanair flight late in the day to the small airport at Figari in southern Corsica. After I crossed the English Channel we flew over a thick cloud layer all the way to Corsica. It was just about dark as we landed and trying to rain. At the airport I latched onto a Brazilian chap who was hiring a car and who offered me a lift into town miles away. But as there was a long queue at the car rental place I abandoned that idea and headed to the taxi rank. There I met 2 poles talking to the taxi men who wanted 70 euros to take us into Porto Vecchio. This seemed extortionate so I went to the information office in the airport and they told me there was a navette leaving at 21:00 for town. Instead I paid 10 Euros and got dropped off close to my hotel.

My hotel was the Hotel L’Aiglon who was a bit grim and expensive with an included breakfast that I could not have as my bus left early. Still it was great to lie down though I slept poorly due to all the adrenaline I’d been pumping all day. I was up at 6:30 and went out for a recce to see if I could fine St Catherine’s car park where the bus to Bastia left from. It was a nice morning and after wandering up some steep narrow streets I located it not far away.

At 8:00 I boarded the bus for the 3 hour run north to Bastia. We drove along a coastal plain through pretty Mediterranean style villages to the bustling city of Bastia. I had a map I copied off the internet of the town and located the bus stop for Calvi outside La Gare. As it was not due to leave for some hours I checked in my pack to the Left Luggage at La Gare and wandered off to the Information Office where I asked about getting ‘Alcohol a Bruler’ for my Trangia stove. I was directed to a sports shop in a lovely plaza of old buildings but it was closed till the afternoon. Then I had a brain wave and hunted down a large supermarket on the north side of town and with the help of a kindly Frenchman found the elusive fuel.

It was now lunchtime so I had a nice meal there and went off to inspect the citadel that was not nearly as impressive as the one at Calvi. Then I got the bus to Calvi and got stuck in a long traffic jam for ages arriving at 7:00 at Calvi. There were some Americans on the bus that I spoke to and a very loud, opinionated Frenchwoman. Arriving at Calvi I immediately got a taxi for 38 euros to the Gite Municipal at Calenzana, a mountain village at the start of the GR20. I was so happy to arrive there after such a circuitous route from New Zealand.

The Gite Municipal I had read about and it was most pleasant place and only cost me 15 euros for a bed in a room with several other beds. I parked my gear there and went for a walk up the road to the village where I bought a pizza and a drink in a small restaurant. I felt relaxed and as happy as I could be knowing the mountains were close by and tomorrow I would be up there. I wandered back in a light shower and had a wonderfully refreshing sleep.

It was Saturday 15^th May, my first day on the GR20. It rained during the night but cleared up by the time I got up at 7:30. I made breakfast in the large kitchen and then packed up and started up the steep street through the village. I stopped at the Spar supermarket to buy some ‘chestnut spread’. My pack was heavy with over 7 kg of provisions, 2 liters of fuel, tent, stove, crampons and ice-axe. It was cloudy on the tops with occasional spits of rain. It is 20 kilometers and 1610 meters of ascent to the Refuge d’Ortu, a hard day according to the guide. It took me 7 hours. There was cloud on the tops with the odd clearance. I saw some wild goats high up. I climbed up a scrubby slope with ever expanding views of the village below and the coastal plain.

Then over a pass and into another valley climbing up towards high rocky mountains. Up and up through pine forest and over a pass and then a sidle on the far side through Laricio pines to climb up small cliffs to another pass the Bocca a u Bassiguellu. This was a pleasant grassy pass with forest a short distance below and looked like a good place to camp though it is forbidden on the GR20. The day had brightened though cloud hung around the tops and valleys.

A path to the left climbed gently past tall pines and then sidled on the right side of the ridge. I climbed into mist and wondered how long this was going to take. Eventually I arrived at the Refuge d’Ortu di u Piobbu at 1570 meters in a clearing.


I met some Frenchmen there but was too tired to communicate with them. There were 2 bunkrooms and I took the back one that had only 1 other occupant. I had a nice dinner, wrote my diary up and had an early night and great sleep.

I awoke at 7:30 to a better day. It was cool and there was snow on the tops now clear. I had a quick breakfast, left 1 liter of fuel and set off as the others were getting up. The path dropped down to the creek and then sidles up and around the low angled ridge ahead. This was covered in leafless birch trees and further on dropped into a side valley. Here the route ascended the bouldery valley among banks of snow. Higher up it crossed the creek and up rock walls on the true left and seemed like it was going to cross a pass up ahead but alas this did not happen. Instead it wandered all over the place and then shot off to the left up a long snow covered slope to a pass called Bocca Piccaia at 1950 meters. There was an awesome view on the other side of sheer rock peaks across the Ladroncellu Valley. I plonked my pack down on the snow and had a bite to eat.

I was a bit shocked by the view that looked like hard mountaineering.
With steely resolve, I climbed up snow-covered boulders onto the shoulder of Capu Londoncellu. At 2020 meters the route sidled off to the right over easy snow slopes to a pass called Bocca d’Avartoli and after more sidling to Bocca Carouzzu. The sidling was up and down rocky gullies and snow slopes. Thankfully this was the last pass and from here it was down to Alder bush in the valley floor. It was here I saw my first Mouflon, the Neolithic wild sheep of Corsica. Further down I heard a crash in the bush and then spotted another Mouflon on a rock above me. Shortly after I reached the Refuge de Carozzu situated in a spectacular location surrounded by sheer rock walls with a wooden terrace with tables and benches outside overlooking the valley below. The mattresses stacked outside and a sign advising no one to stay there as it had “anti-bacterial treatment”!!

As it was warm and sunny I had a hot chocholate and some biscuits and went off for a wash in the creek where I also washed some clothes. As I was cooking dinner I got talking to a German hiker called Deok from Turingen and got distracted. Next thing we noticed the wind had blown the flames of my stove and melted the tube of my Platypus bladder. What a nuisance! I then borrowed a sharp knife and managed to splice the tube so I could still use it. At 19:30 I went off to sleep on a mattress I had pulled into the hut and slept soundly with the aid of a sleeping pill.

On Monday I awoke at 7:00 and left at 8:10 dropping downhill through stately tall pines to a suspension bridge over the Spasimata Gorge. Then it was up the Spasimata slabs that had chains on them in places. It was nice scrambling though hard with my heavy pack. Up ahead were impressive rock peaks now bathed in sunlight against a background of blue sky. The German party passed me moving fast with their small packs. I climbed up into the sunlight and some warmth up small cliffs and then moved further over to the left into the shade and up leafless Alder bush to a level platform above tiny Lac de la Muvrella at 1860 meters. This was frozen in a hollow below and beyond was a steep show slope leading up to rocky gap at 2000 meters on the side of Muvrella Peak.

I had a spell here and noted the track led downwards and then left across a rocky partially snow covered slope to a pass called Bocca I Stagni. Here I caught up with the Germans who went off to climb Muvrella. I had lunch and then set off down a rocky track to the tiny houses far below that was Haut Asco.

Haut Asco is a ski resort with a hotel and a huge Refuge Asco-Stagnu. It has road access and I could see some cars below, a disappointing sight after the ruggedness of the previous 3 days. There was an impressive range of peaks across the valley and among them was Monte Cinto, the highest peak in Corsica at 2706 meters. I wandered into the Refuge that was enormous and found it empty so I picked a small room on the top story.

Then I wandered around to check out the scene and had an ice cream and coffee at the hotel le Chalet bar. I went back and had a shower and washed some clothes. In the evening I had a three-course meal at the restaurant for 20 euros. I slept poorly maybe because I wanted to get away early and climb Monte Cinto and also the place felt like a morgue.

I started at 5:45 up the track to Monte Cinto. Needless to say it was very quiet as I stole out and up the lonely track winding up the pines towards the high peaks. This dropped down to the creek on my left to cross a bridge and then climbed up rocks to a valley with an odd leaning tower of rock ‘La Tour Penchee’. The track continued up the left hand side of this valley to the snow that was frozen. On the way I startled some Mouflon above me.

Higher up I lost the cairns and paint flashes so decided to cut out onto snow slopes leading towards the head of the valley. I climbed some small cliffs and then stopped to put on my crampons. Up ahead was an old moraine wall that I climbed and on top found a marker cairn.

Directly above me was a huge rock and ice face and to my right steep snow led around the base of these cliffs to a steep snow/ice face. I move off to the right up increasingly steep snow slopes. The higher I got the more exposed it seemed. Directly above were rock walls riven with ice leads that looked quite technical.

I remembered I had on my light-weight Grivel alloy crampons and light weight Aerotech ice axe so I did not feel confident I could scale this safely. The alternative was to crab sideways to easier slopes and this is what I did. Then I was on easier slopes and I climbed straight up to an easy snow ridge at 2600 meters.

The snow on the other side was very soft and way off to the left lay the summit ridge. There were no footprints here so it seemed like no one had been up for some time. I climbed along towards the summit and eventually came to a subsidiary summit with some wooden markers tied to a block of stone. There was a steep rock face dropping to the ridge a hundred feet below. Without the help of a rope I did not feel confident descending it solo. So I back tracked to the ridge and tried to get around this tower of rock. Alas the snow was diabolical so I decided to retreat.

Back along the ridge and I descended the steep snow face down the middle. This was quite intimidating as it was very steep and frozen and necessitated in me front pointing almost the whole 1000 feet down to easier slopes. Then it was an easy walk down the valley back to Haut Asco. On the way I caught up with Deok and his Austrian friends and had exchanged pleasantries. Back the Hotel le Chalet I bought some supplies and had dinner back at the Refuge.

On Wednesday I woke to a cloudy day. I was sluggish and made a slow start. It was very quiet as I made breakfast downstairs in the huge dining hall. There was a chill in the air as I closed the door on the refuge and started down the steps. I had not even left the village when I remembered I had not packed the bottle of fuel. Where could it be? So I dumped my pack and ran back up to the refuge and crawled under the bunk to retrieve the overlooked bottle. Near one that!! Then 5 minutes later I realized I’d not seen my cellphone so I pulled everything out of it to find it at the bottom of the pack. This was a poor start for the day and did not bode well.

The track gently climbs up the valley through forest to an open area with high mountains at the head. Looking back I could see it was raining down valley and I was worried about crossing the Cirque de la Solitude up ahead. The path wandered across an open slope of juniper scrub and spiny broom. It was a slow grind up to Col Perdu flanked by brooding dark peaks with cloud descending to their tops. Deok passed me going fast and we exchanged pleasantries. Then I was climbing snow to a small pass and below me was a frozen tarn. On the other side I could see Deok climbing up snow slopes to Col Perdu. At 2183 meters it looked like it would rain any minute so I pressed on as fast as I could.

Standing on the col the view down to the cirque did not look too bad. There was a straightforward descent on rock and snow. I could see some climbers heading up steep snow slopes on the far side towards some cliffs.

The route higher up was difficult to see. As there was a line of steps I took my crampons off for the descent. It now looked grim, dark descending clouds beginning to spit and I’m alone in the cirque. I hurried along climbing the steps to chains on the cliffs above. I moved over slabs to the left onto snow slopes that went straight up to a col, the Bocca Minuta.

What a relief, almost an anti-climax. On the other side were easy snow slopes dropping down to a valley. It was trying to snow as I set off following footsteps in the snow. Later I dropped below the snowline and eventually arrived at the Refuge de Tighjettu. I heard it long before I arrived as workmen were using a generator and doing some work on it. I continued on down the valley on a good track and presently came to the Auberge U Vallone. There was a house there and a large marqui style tent. No one was about so I carried on in pleasant conditions down the valley. However once I turned the corner into the Foggiale Valley, the weather deteriorated with rain and later snow. Some Frenchmen passed me as the rain came on so I stopped and put on my shell gear. I stopped in the lee of a tall pine tree for a spell as it now blew horizontal rain up the valley and got very cold.

Above the scree and bouldery slopes the paint splashes ascended cliffs into whiteout. Suddenly Deok appeared. He told me he had lost the way and it was too dangerous to proceed. However though conditions were miserable I decided to push on. Now it was snowing and I reached a gully running with water. Up this I climbed to snow fields where I found footprints. Higher up they disappeared just as I reached a col. The guide suggested one had to ascend to 2050 meters so I climbed further up from the col and stumbled onto a track covered in snow but with steps. In a full blown blizzard I hurried along wishing the Refuge de Ciottulu di I Mori to appear. Then after some time I spotted it and arrived absolutely covered in snow. I had to take off my pack and jacket and knock off all the snow before I entered. There were quite a few people there. I got a hot drink and wrote up my diary. There was a French-Canadian man and his partner in the refuge and they said that they would head down to Castel di Vergio where there was a hotel. I was told t was only 2 hours away so I decided to pack up and leave too.

I sped off into the mist and fierce wind and shortly regretted this decision. I was freezing as I raced along almost running. Then the track dropped down slowly to the Golo Valley where I caught up with the pair who left earlier. On and on we went for several hours down the sodden valley into forest where the path wandered all over the place. It was a 3 hour ‘run’ to the Hotel Castel di Vergio which we reached just on dark. I booked into the Gite in the basement of the hotel. What a welcome sight. The room had only another couple and was warm and spacious. I pulled my wet pack apart and hung my damp clothes on the radiators to dry off, had a hot shower and crashed minus dinner after a 14 hour day from Haut Asco.

This was old territory as the previous year I had walked down from here to Albertacce from this hotel. I did not intend to leave early but everyone seemed to be out the door by 8:00 so I got under way early. The storm had cleared and there was a bright sky though the air was cold. Just down the road was the track to Bocca San Pedru that climbs up through the woodland. The forest was of Laricio pine and beech trees with dappled sunlight on the forest floor as I climbed slowly up to San Pedru. It was a pleasant climb though the wind was cold. There was a small shrine on the col. Here the route is up the crest of the ridge to re-enter the forest higher up. Above bushline on the ridge I stopped for some food and took photos. From here it was a path on the side of a rocky slope that climbed to the grassy Bocca a Reta.

The day had warmed up and the sun was shining on the surrounding mountains. Ahead the land dropped down to a gentle valley containing a blue lake, Lac du Ninu.

Snow lay on the ground but the green grass showed though in many places. I ambled down past a small shrine and across the flats. Further down the path lay along the banks of the Tavignanu River where beech trees grew. I contemplated heading off down to the creek and camping which in retrospect would have been a good move but instead I carried on. I crossed a grassy plain, the Pianu di Campotile and then up the next valley to the Refuge de Manganu. It was closed due to maintenance so I pitched my tent nearby. It was sunny with some cloud and I had a restful afternoon. At one stage I was startled by a ? large cat that came into the vestibule but I did not see it clearly. It scampered away when I sat up. Later some French people arrived and went into the hut.

In the evening the wind got up but that night a full gale was blowing and it was difficult to sleep. The tent flapped unmercifully and I eventually put in ear plugs to try to get some sleep. In the dark I awoke and noticed a lighter area in the side of the tent and I thought to my self “that’s strange” and when I reached out my hand found a hole in it. I was shocked and switched on my headlight to discover several food bags gone. Then the chilling realization struck me I’d had a visitor, a feral cat or fox had torn the tent and taken food out. I jumped up and raced outside to discover my scattered food bags, all torn and supplies strewn about. I gathered them up and noticed only the bag of sweats were missing. Back in the tent I repaired the hole with duct tape and left my light on as I was uncertain if the scavenger would return. But the gale was as bad as ever so I collapsed the tent and moved quietly into the refuge where other climbers were sleeping on mattresses on the floor. I lay down on my thin air mattress and slept fitfully for the rest of the night on the frigid floor till dawn.

As most of the climbers were still asleep I pulled all my gear outside to do a proper pack and to check I had not forgotten anything. I had a quick breakfast and was away by 6:30. I was not feeling great what with the poor night and lack of sleep as I climbed up the valley. Although I was first away soon the other caught up with me travelling light. I met a guide and his client coming back who stopped for a chat. They had left in the early hours of the morning in case the weather turned bad. Thomas, the Czek passed me. Up ahead the track was on the side of a stream on the true right and at the head of the valley snow slopes climbed to a notch in the ridge the Breche de Capilellu at 2225 meters.

On the pass I stopped for a spell and talked to Thomas. He seemed ill prepared for the steep snow conditions and made heavy weather of the scrambling on rock lower down. There were footprints in the snow leading off to the right and down along a ridge to another pass called the Bocca a Soglia.

Down to the left were the frozen lakes of Lac de Capitellu and Lac du Melo. There were footsteps across snow-covered slopes to the left of the col and higher up we eventually came to the Bocca Renosa. From here it was a gentle climb across snow to the Bocca Muzzella with extensive views to the south.

The snow was soft as I descended the Stazzanelli to the ridge overlooking the Refuge de Petra Piana. There is a choice of two routes here, a low level route via the Ruisseau de Mangatellu and up another valley to the Refuge de l’Onda or a high level one via the Serra di Tenda. Thomas dropped off to Pietra Piana and I continued on down to the Bocca Mangellu and climbed slowly up the long ridge to Punta Murace. I did not feel well and suspected I was developing a viral infection. There were quite a few summits along the range and an awkward loose descent off one peak. Then for the last peak the route was up a steep snow face and here the steps were went in different directions and it was obvious people had difficulty on this section. I decided to head straight up so put on my crampons and my ice axe. Over the crest there was an easy path almost level for a while and then dropping to Bocca d’Oreccia. I could see the Refuge but as it had only a small number of beds I dropped down to the Bergerie below it and camped in a paddock there.

Saturday I awoke to a nice sunny day but felt tired and had a cold. I had breakfast and slowly got organized and then headed up the hill. I climbed up slowly gaining height up to the ridge about 700 meters above me. Off to the left was the summit of Monte d’Oru that I was keen to traverse but I felt too sick and tired to do so. Near the ridge was a plaque to a young Frenchman who had perished in a snowstorm at that spot years ago. The photograph showed him standing high up on a snowy peak with a dog. It was very sad. From the ridge the route went left down the ridge before leading off down snowfields to rock slabs and alder scrub. Lower down the path entered pine forest and dropping beside a beautiful rushing stream. I met Thomas the Czek again and we moved on down the valley. In the Cascade des Anglais there were day hikers and eventually we crossed a few bridges and arrived at Vizzavona.

I was uncertain of where to stay and eventually booked into the Gite in the Bar/Restaurant de la Gare. This was OK but not great. There were inadequate washroom facilities. I met a nice German couple, Thomas a medical student and Sophie, a teacher who were staying there. I had a miserable night with my nose that ran continually and kept me awake.

I felt dead next day from lack of sleep and my viral infection. Thank goodness I did not have to walk today. At breakfast I asked Chris, the Canadian to let me use his Blackberry and sent an email to Belinda. I had not been able to find any internet at Vizzavona. After a breakfast of bread and coffee and I saw Thomas off on the train to Corte. I then decided to camp in the local campground as I felt uncomfortable in a Gite with my runny nose and cough and spreading germs around.

It is beside La Gare on the other side of the tracks but there is no toilet that was a nuisance. Despite this it was in a sunny position and quiet with shade under the pine trees. I tried my cellphone again and to my surprise it worked. Earlier I could not get any connectivity. I sent a text to Belinda and got a reply that raised my spirits no end and exchanged several more. I also sent a text to Fisch advising him not to bring an ice axe or crampons and less food but he was already on his way. I went to the Epicerie in the Bar/Restaurant and bought some food. I bumped into Deok and that evening joined him for dinner at the Hotel I Laricci. We had a nice three-course meal. I slept soundly that night in my tent.

Monday morning dawned another fine day. I switched on my mobile and got a message from Fisch that he was in Ajaccio and would be in on the morning train. That was great news. I packed up and met him on the 9:10 train at La Gare. He looked great and was in no rush to hit the trail and that suited me fine. We had a leisurely coffee at the La Gare Restaurant and then booked into the Hotel I Laricci.

We said goodbye to Deok who was still there. We went off for a walk and then had lunch at the hotel and then checked into our room. It was on the third floor and was in its original style and a delight. The Hotel must be very old and exudes great character. The staff was very friendly and helpful. We went for a walk on the Sentier Achaeologique to a cave where Neolithic hunter-gatherers lived 7000 years ago in the very heart of Corsica. There was not a lot to see. We had a nice meal that night back at the Hotel and went to bed early.

I felt a bit better next day but by no means fully recovered as we set off up the hill. Thankfully it was an easy gradient all the way through beech forest and Laricio pine to bushline. From here there were extensive views back to Monte d’Oru as we reached the Bocca Palmento at 1645 meters. We contoured around a spur to the Bergeries d’Alzeta. The path continued to contour around further spurs now in beech and later tall Laricio pine forest. Finally there was a zigzag climb upwards to a road and the Refuge d’E Capanelle. It was quite small and we should have probably stayed there but instead we descended to a gite lower down the Gite d’Etape U Fagone. Here we were given a very cramped room of 4 bunks. We shared it with a nice French couple.

Across the small valley where we stayed was a ski lift and our route next day was upwards beside it. It gradually climbed to a partially frozen lake, Lac de Bastani beyond which was the summit of Monte Renosu. We climbed up snow slopes to the summit ridge and then it was an easy stroll to the crucifix on the summit at 2352.

Behind us was a stream of people and soon the summit was overwhelmed. It was time to move on! We stayed on the ridges all the way to Punta Capella and from there took our own route down to the junction of the GR20 and the variation via the Bergeries des Pozzi. We had a leisurely lunch and then carried on to the Col di Verdi where there was road access and all that entails. We scoffed a penache and then set off for Refuge de Prati. There was a steep climb up through pine forest to a higher valley of birch forest and then a bouldery slope led to the Bocca d’Oru. A short while later we reached the Refuge sited on a grassy plain to find it bursting with people, a guided party complete with mules and guides. We camped nearby.

Woke early with cloud below us on the coastal plains and no wind. We slowly got organized as a large party fluffed around with their guides and mules. We had breakfast and broke camp. Soon we were climbing up a steep track to a high point on a ridge. The route then continued along sloping rocky slabs on the left side of the ridge before zigzagging back to the crest of the ridge. A party of French soldiers passed us. The track contoured along the ridges and in 3 hours we descended to the Bocca Laparo that was pleasant spot with verdant beech forest.

A strong westerly was now blowing as we made our way along the east side of the high range ahead. Oddly enough the east side was cloudy and the west clear though very windy. Then we were climbing up steep slopes of Punta Bianca and Monte Furmicula. The latter is bare rock and very barren. The route wandered along a rocky ridge with many ups and down among small cliffs. It is called the Crete d’Acqua Acelli. At the end of it the route descends into a valley to the Refuge d’Usciola at 1750 meters. There was a gardien in residence and the refuge was decorated in Tibetan prayer flags.

We stayed in the refuge. I must have picked up a stomach bug as I had stomach cramps all night and some diarrhoea.

Further on the ridge continues as the Arete a Monda that is a long rocky ridge with a few summits interspersed. Below to the right was a village called Cozzano a long way below us. At the end of the ridge we dropped to the Bocca di l’Agnonu in the bush. Here we stopped for some food and drink. The path continued in forest dropping down to the left to a ‘source’ that is a supply of drinking water usually a pipe out of a spring. In the beech forest we saw lots of pigs and some wild bulls. The route eventually leaves the forest for the Plateau du Cuscione. This is an extensive grassy and scrub covered plain where the locals graze their animals in summer. The path leads to a footbridge over the Ruisseau de Furcinchesu and then up to the site of a former refuge at I Pedinieddi Aire de Bivouac. This is the only place on the whole of the GR 20 one is legally allowed to camp. We stopped here for a while and met a pleasant German couple called Stephan and Sissi also walking the trail. Stephan was from Freiburg and was studying internal medicine and nephrology. I think Sissi was a teacher.

Further on was a big climb over Monte Alcudina 2134 meters which was now in cloud and uninviting. It was a matter of first gear and switching off as we ground our way upwards. The summit had a fallen concrete cross on top. We did not delay and carried on along the ridge to the steep descent to the Refuge d’Ascinau at 1530 meters in the next valley. Across the valley I could see the Aiguilles de Bavella that were very striking.

The refuge was crowded and I vacillated between camping and carrying on. In the end I found a quiet place near the refuge to camp in so we stayed. We had a penache and later cooked our meal in the refuge. The gardien was aloof and told Stephan not to use his gas burner in the hut. People kept arriving and I was so pleased we were camping outside.

We left early and had planned on a high level crossing over the Aiguilles de Bavella. This proved to be a hard grind up to the aiguilles. Once there it was an interesting route around the aiguilles with a delicate climb up a steep slab with a chain in one spot.

The view all around was of steep pillars of rock and Laricio pines. Then there was a steep descent down a loose rock gully to the Col de Bavella where we were overwhelmed with the tourists with numerous cars and buses. There is a village here where we stopped for a meal. As it was quite early we pushed on to Refuge d’ l Paliri in misty conditions. We left on a road and then a narrow path climbed up for several hundred meters to a narrow gap, the Foce Finosa looking eerie in the mist. From here it was downhill and then a sidle to tall pine forest where the mist cleared. Shortly afterwards we came to one of the most spectacular refuges on the whole trip, the Refuge d’ L Paliri situated at 1055 meters on a ridge with spectacular views all around of pink granite perks and gorgeous Laricio pine forest.

We lazed around, then had a cold shower and slept in the refuge with a room-mate who snored abdominally.

Our last day was a long haul to Concha, the village at the southern end of the GR20. We dropped all day into the maquis that is the low bush and herb all in flower. The day was warm and off to the left the blue Mediterranean beckoned. On we marched loosing height, down and down meeting large numbers of hikers making their way upwards. At first we traversed to a gap past spectacular pinnacles of rock and then to the right descending in pine forest to suddenly climb to a rocky gap, the Bocca di u Sordu. The path then continues to the ruined Bergeries de Capeddu where there was an incongruous skip of rubbish in the woods! From here we dropped through open scrub to the Ruisseau de Punta Pinzuta that we crossed and then down its true left bank.

Further on the route crossed the creek and climbed steeply over another ridge and sidles around the head of a valley and then down its right flank to the Bocca d’Usciolu. Below were the terracotta roofs of Concha. We arrived at 14:30. We went into the Gite d’Etape La Tonnelle and had a penache. Fisch was in high spirits. We booked into the Gite, demi-pension and spent the afternoon roaming around the town that was deserted being a Sunday with everything closed. Our room was very cozy in a lovely house behind the main building. Next day we took the navette to Porto Vecchio.

Next morning we had the usual French breakfast of bread and coffee. On the navette we struck up a convervation with a couple called Jean Baptiste ad his Chinese wife Xiaowei.

They live in Paris and he worked in a bank and Xiaowei was an underpaid architect. As we had no plans for Porto Vecchio we decided to spend the day with them till their bus left for Figari. Boy could they eat!! We found a nice room in a hotel and had a 3-course meal in the citadel that evening. Next day I saw Fisch off on the bus to Ajaccio and later that evening caught my bus to Figari and my flight back to London.

An account of the GR20 running from Calenzana to Concha, a distance of about 190 kilometers, across the spine of Corsica. The first half was walked solo by Stanley Mulvany and from Vizzavona he was joined by Fischer Thomas 15-30^th May 2010.