Ridges and peaks of the most beautiful and also the toughest trek in Europe.
june 2024
The journey to the start of the trek itself could fill a whole chapter. To get used to early getting up, we arrive at 6 a.m. to the Prague airport and, with only a slight delay, land in Pisa, Italy. Apart from the famous leaning tower, known thanks to a medieval static error, there's not much to see here. So we walk from the airport to the train station with a cultural detour before heading to Livorno by train. The train ride takes about fifteen minutes.
The main task here is to buy gas cartridges at Decathlon on the outskirts. We stay near the port so we don't have to walk far in the morning. The rest of the evening is spent enjoying Italian pizza and ice cream.
We arrive at the port earlier than the required half-hour before departure. The hotel is only a kilometer and a half away, but we run another two and a half kilometers through port corridors for cargo trucks because they forgot to make a shortcut for pedestrians. From the garage area, we take an elevator that looks like an industrial freezer. I get a bit nervous when the door don't open immediately. Instead of leaving at eight, we depart at half-past nine. The sea gives us a rather wild ride and delay. With the help of two assistant boats, the captain makes it aout of the narrow harbor. When we reach the open sea the real show starts. Water sprays up to the top decks, and passengers start turning green. The boat rocks, and the waves hitting the bow shake the decks.
Against the wind, we sail slowly, and by the scheduled arrival time, we're only halfway there. Suddenly, we have too much time to study the route. A speaker system mumbles an apology and offers free water and pasta for every passenger. Another announcement: "Sorry, just water, the pasta was a mistake."
The bus from Bastia leaves at four. We were supposed to arrive at one and hitchhike to avoid a long wait. The bus has long gone, and we wait outside the port. There's a boat in front of us and another behind. Due to bad weather and technical issues and who knows what else, the port is not accepting anybody. We have to wait. After eleven hours on the boat, which should have been unloaded and back in Italy by now, they announce "free pasta." This time, it's real. We receive a paper plate of penne with ketchup.
The wait continues. We're a bit worried that this might turn into a modern alternative to the forty-day quarantine imposed on medieval sailors during the plague epidemic.
Announcement number probably 158 invites us to disembark. So, we gather in the garage and, in the atmosphere of running engines, wait another half hour for the stuck doors to open. Hooray! Everyone claps. Not yet. The captain missed the parking spot and has to reverse two more meters so we can reach the shore. The second attempt is successful, and we step onto the island of Corsica.
It's half-past ten, and by now, we wanted to be asleep in a tent at the first campsite. At the terminal, they suggest the nearest hotel, and after a bit of tension at the closed doors, we finally get a bed for the night.
At half-past eight in the morning, we board a bus heading to Porto Vecchio. Half of the bus gets off at Sainte Lucie de Porto Vecchio, which means a few small groups of hikers. We walk through the village and hitchhike on the road to Conca, the official start of the GR20. A gentleman in an off-road car gives us a lift. One of us sits on the seat, the other in the trunk. He asks in French where we're from and then, to our surprise, starts speaking Czech. He worked at the embassy in Prague in 1980 and still has perfect pronunciation. We're stunned. He drops us off in Conca at the cemetery and wishes us a safe journey.
Day 1: Conca - Refuge d'i Paliri
A day of granite fantasy and sea views.
In the midday heat, we climb through the village to the turn-off - the beginning of the marked GR20 trail. In the afternoon, we meet a few hikers going the opposite direction. They've already finished, and we have 180 km through the mountains of Corsica from south to north, to Calenzana, ahead of us.
We pass through the rock gate of Bocca d'Usciolu and can't get enough of the views back to the sea. In the distance, we can see the mountains of nearby Sardinia. We descend to the waterfall Casdade de Punta Pinzuta. Water slowly flows down the dark rock, warming up nicely in the pool. It's perfect for a first refreshing cool down. There's almost a queue for the pool. Then comes the climb to the Bocca Villaghello saddle (1065 m). Views of the sea behind us and endless rocks all around. We walk through the fairy-tale scenery of granite formations. The yellow-colored rounded rocks look like they were created by some crazy artist. Each piece is unique. We reach the forest and the first campsite, Refuge d'i Paliri.
The huts along the GR20 route are managed by the regional park Parc naturel régional de Corse. They usually consist of a stone building with a restaurant and facilities, a dormitory with a few beds, rental tents, and spots for your own tents. The sanitary facilities are basic: a few dry or eco-toilets and cold, sometimes hot, showers. Electricity is mostly solar-powered, and cooking is done with gas. There are also shelters for cooking stoves. Refuge Paliri is entirely in the forest, and tent spots are found among the trees. The bonus is the view of the valley.
Day 2: Refuge d'i Paliri - Refuge d'Asinau
The first alpine variant
On the way to the Bavella saddle, we meet chatty Australian Sandra. She's hiking alone and has most of the route behind her. She asks us to greet her two Polish friends with big dogs at the next hut.
Bavella is a road saddle with a hotel, restaurant, and small shop. You can charge your phone here while having coffee, so we sit for a while. In the 300 meters we climb on the road, about a hundred motorcycles pass us. It's a beautiful day, and the sightseers have come out. The roaring engines can be heard deep in the valley even as we climb to the forest turn-off.
GR20 has several "alpine" variants besides the main route. This means more peaks, more rocks, tougher terrain, and also more viewpoints. The first one branches off right at the saddle and leads through the rocky peaks of Auguilles de Bavella. A steep climb takes us into a cloud that briefly obscures the peaks among which the path winds. The sun prevails, and we enjoy the views. From the Bocca di u Pargulu saddle (1662 m), we descend just as steeply to the classic route that bypasses the rocks via the valley. Finally, we climb to Refuge d'Asinau. The hut with the campsite is perched on a slope, completely exposed to the wind, which is the price for the view right from the tent. We struggle to find a spot for our tent. With entrances on both sides, we're quite expansive by local standards. The showers here are only cold. Half the camp knows when David makes it. The rest are busy moving tents set up near the helipad. The hutkeeper stands on that piece of concrete like a podium, loudly clearing the area for safe landing. We're luckily far enough away, but curiosity wins. David rushes out of the shower in just a towel, only to be caught in a cloud of stirred-up dust. The guy probably just came for a coffee. There's no rescue drama, no flames in the forest. We have a new topic for the evening.
Day 3: Refuge d'Asinau - Refuge d'Usciolu
Across Monte Incudine and the Burnt Plains
This time, we manage to set off before eight and immediately warm up with a steep climb. When planning, I was intrigued by the 450 meters of elevation gain over 1.5 kilometers. Above us the Monte Incudine towers, through which the alpine variant runs. The steepest climb, however, is up to the Bocca Stazzurana pass. Here, the "alpine" variant splits off and leads over the summit of Monte Incudine (2134 m). The climb along the ridge is gentler, and soon we reach a simple wooden cross. The views are beautiful, as they are everywhere around here.
The descent along the ridge is rewarding. No steep declines and a path make it easy to reach the Col de Luana pass. We head down to the left and encounter the first herd of cows on a meadow. Just below them, at the edge of the forest, we find a spring that wasn’t even on the map. We still have plenty of water, so we continue down to the river. It’s a few hundred meters of hopping over roots in a beech forest.
A bridge is marked on the map. Its remnants lie in the middle of the riverbed. The water can be easily crossed by hopping on stones. Before we attempt this, we take a coffee break on a fallen trunk of a several-hundred-year-old tree.
The next few kilometers are among the rare exceptions where the GR20 trail follows a comfortable grassy path. First, we cross several fairly recent burn areas. Blackened stumps alternate with a golf-course-like lawn and meandering streams. It’s amazing.
From the crossroads, there’s a climb to the ridge. Before reaching the rocks, we pass a well-maintained spring, Source de la Bocca di l'Agnone. You could even camp on the meadow below it.
The path climbs above the vegetation, and the granite ridge resembles the Tatras. From the notes of those who walked before us, I remember a warning that reaching the refuge takes a long time. At first, it doesn’t seem so, but in the last two kilometers, I acknowledge they were right. Hopping over rocks and scrambling from one side to the other takes quite a bit of time. We see Refuge d'Usciolu from a distance and keep looking at it for a long time before getting closer. The hut is nestled on a slope below the ridge, with tents on wooden platforms below it. All the white rental tents here were bought at Decathlon and only fit on the wooden structures. With our own tent (called "bivouac"), we have to find a spot a bit lower, so getting to the shower and back means meeting our daily stair climbing goal according to our watches. One of the four showers is warm. Anyone who comes out says "bouillon."
Not far from the tent, we have a shelter with water and a gas stove. These are in most campsites, so if you dare to rely on them working, you could travel lighter. In any case, we have too many gas canisters.
Day 4: Refuge d'Usciolu - Relais San Petru di Verdeo (Col de Verde)
The weather teaches us a lesson
Until the next refuge, there is no water, so we stock up sufficiently before departure. The trail along the ridge is described as taking about six hours, and you really won’t find any water.
On the way, we climb to the bonus peak Punta della Cappella (2041 m). We leave our backpacks in the bushes by the trail and hop over granite boulders to the summit cross. The next refuge is in sight.
We descend from the ridge a bit before Refuge de Prati. "Prati" translates from Italian as "meadows," and the name fits. The refuge is located on a grassy plain, with horses and donkeys. We refill our water and sit down for a snack. A horse comes right up to the table and sticks its head straight between us, satisfied even with the crumbs on the wrapper of one of the instant delights. We have to descend over 500 meters from the nearby Bocca d'Oru and cross the road at Col de Verde. The views are sinking into the clouds. According to the last available forecast, a few drops are expected this afternoon, but nothing big. People in raincoats are climbing up towards us. Soon, those "few drops" force us to also cover up with waterproof gear. The tavern at the pass is quite full. A group of cyclists is drying off by the fireplace, so we join them. It’s raining more and more outside, so we decide to stay here at the campsite. The original plan was to reach Bergerie de Gialgone, but we can afford to wait for better weather. They have hot water here, and even a fairly decent spot for our tent.
Day 5 - Col de Verde - Bergerie d'Alzeta
Catching up on our delay, no point in rushing
The forest after the rain is full of water, but the path is quite comfortable. The classic GR20 route mostly follows forested slopes and between Bergerie de Gialgone and the Capanelle hut, it doesn’t have much elevation gain. We opt for the alpine variant, and this time we take a bit of our own route. The goal is to climb Monte Renoso (2352 m) and descend from the northern side onto the classic route. We climb via an unmarked forest shortcut towards Bergerie des Pozzi. The entire way is up along a stream, and just before reaching the hut, a view of meadows and mountains opens up before us. Bergerie des Pozzi is an abandoned hut with a beautiful view and a source of water. It’s a romantic spot just for a coffee break.
The Crête de Pietradione ridge includes several peaks between Punta Cappella and "our" Monte Renoso. We climb towards Monte Torto. In the valley below us, the stream spreads into a thousand little lakes, creating an original pattern on the meadow. The path along the side of the ridge is quite comfortable. Only the final climb to Monte Renoso turns into classic hopping over boulders and rocks.
Below us, Lac de Bastani glistens, and the northern slopes of the mountain are still full of snow. We descend around the lake to the Refuge d'E Capannelle. The ski resort with three lifts is accessed by a mountain road, so the shop is stocked a bit better. It’s 12 kilometers to Vizzavona, mostly downhill, with no climbing, but not very fast either. We set off in the afternoon, knowing that there are still two Bergeries and one a bit off the main trail. We continue along the path through the forest, slowly losing altitude. We’re approaching the next hur. From the forest, we can hear the braying of a donkey, so we expect there would be someone there. Bergerie d'Alzeta is marked as a refreshment stop on the map, but no one has sold sausages here for a long time. There’s a rusty lock on the door, and the water source is neglected. So, I take water from the stream below and filter it for drinking. The tent fits just before the building, and we have dinner at a table with a view almost to the sea. It’s perfectly quiet here.
Day 6: Bergerie d'Alzeta - Vizzavona - Refuge de L'Onda
Bread Day
We wake up just in time of sunrise. We quickly pack up the tent. Even before six, the first hikers are passing. It could be just over an hour for them from Vizzavona. We’ll go down the same way. The motivation is breakfast in “civilization”, so we descend hungry. The road between Corte and Ajaccio divides the GR20 route into the northern and southern part. We’ve just completed the southern part. Those who traverse only one half arrive here by train or leave for the station after the hike. We meet some of them at the campsite. They wanted to go south but had to change plans due to a injured ankle. They offer us crampons for the snowy northern slopes of Monte Cinto, but we refuse with thanks. The boy summed it up perfectly: “Those who had crampons said it was impossible without them, and those who didn’t have them said it was doable without them.” There is a small shop at the campsite, where you can sit under a pergola with coffee and charge your phone. Charging electronics is one of the logistical issues of the trek. We carry power banks and a small solar panel. Most huts have charging facilities, sometimes for a fee, but always with a long queue for a single extension cord with a few outlets.
After a big and tasty breakfast and with some extra goodies bought, we set off at noon. This time we choose the classic route to avoid missing the Cascade des Anglais. The climb alongside the L’Agnone stream starts gently and gradually increases in steepness. The blue pools in the white smoothed rock invite a swim. But we’re not the only ones. The river is crowded with tourists from Vizzavona. Among the small waterfalls, only one is named. Cascade des Anglais. There’s a queue for photos on the rocks in front of the waterfall. A classic “Instagram vs. reality” situation. Further up, there’s no one around. And the river continues to be just as beautiful. We soon find our own spot for a swim. The water is just right for cooling off in the midday heat. Just to spread out on the rock and spend the afternoon here... We’d happily laze around for the rest of the day, but we need to cross the pass to the next hut. And there’s still some climbing ahead of us. A hundred meters higher, we’re sweating as if we hadn’t just cooled off.
The red and white stripes lead us up steeply on granite slabs and steps. The bushes we’ve been pushing through thin out and we finally reach the pass, only to groan at what lies ahead.
To the right is Monte d’Oro. That’s part of the alpine variant that detached just above Vizzavona. We still need to cross Pointe Muratello (2081 m) and then descend down there to the Onda hut, which is over seven hundred meters below the ridge. The path branches off as it descends steeply among bushes and freely cascading boulders. The direction is clear, the markers are occasional.
The Refuge de L'Onda hut is located a short distance below the ridge, on the edge of the forest and sheltered from the wind. From above, we see a round wooden fence. People are camping inside, and cows are grazing freely outside. We join this little zoo and find the last flat spot for our tent among piles of rusty gas bottles. The large ones are used to heat water for showers, which surprisingly work. Small bottles are for stoves. There are two here. Four out of three burners are so rusted they have no chance of burning. The remaining one has a queue until midnight. I’m glad we have our own gear. Within minutes, we have dinner. Well, one of the variations on “pour hot water, wait a bit, eat.”
Almost every hut offers half-board. Dinner is a three-course menu and breakfast is a baguette with jam, complemented by a sweet drink with a straw, packed in 200 ml, so explicitly “mountain solution friendly to nature.” Dinner usually has to be ordered by 5 p.m.; otherwise, you miss it. If you don’t mind doubling the cost of the trip, it’s a way to save weight in the backpack.
Day 7: Refuge de L'Onda - Refuge de Petra Piana
Monte Rotondo with views and an ice swim
In the morning, it’s pleasantly dry. We don’t need to wipe the tent from the condensed moisture. We buy some local cheese from the hut keeper and we descent into the Manganello River valley. Halfway down, we pass a water source. From there to the bridge, the path is drivable by a 4WD vehicle. Then we cross the river over a new bridge. After ten minutes, we arrive at Bergerie de Tolla. We order coffee and a pancake from the open window and enjoy them at a table in the shade of the trees.
The walk along the river is quite pleasant. The water has carved pools of various shapes into the granite bedrock. Cooling off in the midday heat is almost a necessity, especially in such a natural bath. The climb, of course, becomes steeper as we approach the Petra Piana hut, where we arrive shortly after noon.
We plan to climb Monte Rotondo, which rises directly above the hut. Leaving the tent at the campsite, we realize that our tent needs poles, but we want to take them with us. So, we leave our gear under the tarp, secure it with pegs, and leave behind. We just warn our neighbors that it looks weird but it’s fine. With almost an empty backpack, we climb directly from the campsite on a path marked by stone cairns. We have about 750 vertical meters to go straight up, and it’s relatively clear. About two-thirds of the way, we cross a ridge and below us, there are a few snow traverses. It’s afternoon, the snow is soft, and it’s easy going. This gets us to the moraine of Lac de Bettaniella, Corsica’s largest lake.
There is still some ice floating ion the surface of the crystal-clear water. A perfect cool down. The refreshment lasts until the beginning of the scree slope climb. We reach the final ridge, and with the favorite "monkey" style, we hop to the summit. Just below the summit rock, there’s the bivouac Abri Helbronner.
The view from the summit is definitely worth the effort. The name Rotondo might refer to the view all around. You can see all of Corsica and the sea in the distance in all directions. The visibility is absolutely fantastic. The only higher mountain on the island is Monte Cinto, and it’s less than a hundred meters higher. Behind us, we can see everything we’ve passed, and to the north, the peaks we’re heading toward.
We descend the same way and arrive at the campsite in the evening. Horses from supply caravans are running between the tents. Their curiosity fortunately skips our pile under the tarp.
After dinner, there’s a disco party at the hut. Although there is no electricity, solar panel batteries power the speaker, which makes quite a noise. The hut staff supports the dancing hikers until late hours. Apparently, they do this every night and then get up to prepare breakfast. We won’t find out how long such a worker lasts.
Day 8: Refuge de Petra Piana - Refuge de Manganu
We need to slow down...
The morning is longer than usual, so we leave even later than the others. We climb to the Bocca Muzzella pass. On the map, it didn’t look so bad, but the terrain is a series of jumps. We move slowly and there will be several passes like this today.
Below us we see lakes Lac de Rinoso. Two more larger ones will follow as we gain altitude. Lac de Melo and Lac de Capitello. The passes are named Col de Rinoso, Bocca and Soglia, Breche de Capitello, and Bocca Alle Porte. We see all this in front of us and just guess how long it would take.
We pass hikers coming from the opposite direction. I automatically greet every pair of shoes with “Bonjour.” I can’t see much more. I look at my feet and focus on each rock I jump over. David loses focus for a moment when avoiding a pair of French hikers and misses his step. He falls backward into the bushes between two large boulders. It looks scary, but fortunately, he lands in soft stuff and lies there like a turtle on its back.
The traverses continue alternately over rocks and short snowfields. The path is visible. It’s quite hot, so it’s fine in low trail shoes. Some people use crampons. At one of the passes, we have a snack. We need to finish the local cheese from yesterday so it doesn’t spoil… though it can’t get any moldier. As we sit down, a raven flies over. It hops around and waits for crumbs.
We scramble up to the highest Bocca alle Porte, from which the view opens up on the other side. The descent is a slalom between boulders and a bit on snow. The descent is steep. After a steep section, it becomes gentler, and we enter the vegetation. The path winds among low flowering bushes and occasionally streams. Sometimes we search for the markings.
The stream spreads into a meadow and then falls down rocky steps. Below us, we see the Refuge de Manganu. David has some stomach problems. Today’s plan was to reach Col de Verghio, but it doesn’t seem feasible to continue to the next hut. There’s no point in continuing today. We have time in reserve, so we stay here, even though it wasn’t the plan.
David spends the rest of the afternoon in the tent while I wait for the shower, the stove, and everything else. When I wake him with dinner ready, he doesn’t say much. He puts down the spoon and falls back asleep. Good thing there’s no party like last night.
Day 9: Refuge de Manganu - Refuge de Ciottulu di i Mori
Easy terrain and the lake
The free afternoon helped, and David is able to continue. After two kilometers of quite comfortable walking, we arrive at Bergeries de Vaccaghia. I’ve read many recommendations not to sleep here but to continue to the better-equipped Manganu. It’s a Balkan-style house, surrounded by mess, and behind a large boulder, there’s a fire with the typical smell of burning plastic waste. They have homemade cheese, so we buy one and move on.
In the previous days, we didn’t have a signal to update the weather forecast, and the last one was fine. This does not match the black sky and the rumbling sounds behind the hill. No, it’s not a plane; a storm is coming our way. We don't want to go back to the hut, so under a leafy tree, we change into waterproof gear. We wait a bit until one intense wave passes and then continue. We were lucky, and the main storm missed us.
We cross a gentle hill and arrive at Lac de Nino, the second-largest lake in Corsica. Around the shallow lake full of aquatic plants, horses and cows graze. This stage is probably the easiest of the entire GR20. No climbing, no boulders, but meadows, a path, and calves running around. Amidst this idyllic scene, we stop at a water source and make coffee with fresh cheese. To make it not completely a walk in the park, we cross the Bocca a Reta saddle. Two hundred meters of altitude gain is not even worth mentioning by local standards. Just enough to look at the lake a bit from above and descent to the Col de Vergio.
The Castel de Vergio restaurant and hostel are not directly in the saddle. The road passes through, but it is not a main route. On the slope, we find two tiny ski lifts. The adjacent campsite is private, not managed by the nature park administration. Maybe that's why it looks more maintained and contrasts with the next hut. Around the open Bergerie de Radule and the waterfall of the same name, we climb to Refuge de Ciottulu di i Mori, the highest hut on the route. Coming down towards us on the rather challenging terrain is a line of pack horses. The horses have a lot of work with the rocky steps. The path climbs along the river to one of the former bergeries, where it branches off into the slope. A cloud catches up with us, and for the rest of the ascent, we can only see ourselves. Ciottulu hut is one of the simpler and less maintained ones. When cooking, I ask a German couple where the toilets are, and they warn me not to even go there. We manage to secure a spot for our tent on one of the last patches between the rocks.
Day 10: Refuge de Ciottulu di i Mori - Paglia Orba - Refuge de Tighiettu
Summit above the clouds
In the morning, the mountains and valleys are covered with clouds. Everything is wet from the falling mist. The forecast promised good weather. The clouds occasionally part, hinting that we should set off. We leave the tent as a flattened heap and, still in the swirling mist, head towards Paglia Orba (2525 m). In my opinion, it’s one of the most beautiful, although the nickname "Matterhorn of Corsica" doesn't quite fit its shape. In any case, the ascent from the Col des Maures saddle is an enjoyable scramble among the rocks. The path is marked with cairns, but sometimes you need to use your imagination. Just before the summit, there's a short descent, and then it's a straightforward push to the cross. These are usually simple wooden crosses, but the views are simply incredible.
Back at the camp, we pack up the tent and continue on the route. The descent into the valley is often feared, because a stream runs over the rocky slabs, making everything slippery. We are lucky to go down in dry conditions. On the way down, we meet a Czech group again. They plan to reach Bergerie de Ballone and go down to the bus the next day to avoid the snow-covered Monte Cinto. Many people choose this detour. Bergerie de Ballone is at the beginning of the climb under Monte Cinto. Unlike the higher Refuge de Tighiettu, it is warmly recommended. We prefer to climb the 240 meters in elevation today, so we head to Tighiettu. The hut is in a beautiful spot on the slope with no space around. The few rentable tents are scattered on platforms wherever possible. It’s a struggle with our own tents. In the end, we go all the way down to the path and take a spot by a large boulder. Rather than go up to the hut for water, I scramble down the rocks to the river. For a cold shower, I choose the same solution. We have a beautiful vantage point, sheltered from above. But at night, a strong wind comes up from the valley and shakes our ultralight tent vigorously. I’m a bit worried it might not survive. We don’t sleep much, but fortunately, there’s no material damage.
Day 11: Tighietu - Monte Cinto - Asco (Refuge d'Ascu-Stagnu)
Cinto is not easy
We are facing one of the most dreaded stages of the entire GR20, which leads over the highest mountain in Corsica. Previously, the route lead through the technically challenging Cirque de la Solitude. After tragic landslides in 2015, the route was changed. The path was de-marked, chains removed, and the main route was diverted over Pointe des Éboulis, a saddle below the summit of Monte Cinto. From here, the highest mountain on the island looks close. At least on the map, but don't be fooled.
From the hut, we hike up the gravel slopes to the saddle. David seems as if someone showed him the menu of a restaurant in Asco. He ignores the slipping gravel under his feet and steadily gains elevation. We reach the Bocca Crucetta saddle, where a view of Lac de Cinto opens up. To swim, we would have to descend about two hundred meters. But we don't even consider it. The wind is so strong we can barely stand. The path seems to lead straight along the ridge, and people are coming from the opposite direction. We cautiously set out, so the wind doesn't blow us into the lake. But it's a mistake. Those coming from the opposite direction have also realized this. The markings here are quite confusing. The path runs along the southeast side of the ridge, and you need to climb down a few meters. At least the wind is not so strong there.
We get back into the wind before the Pointe des Éboulis saddle. We leave our backpacks here because it's supposedly just a short way up. Apart from the camera, we don't take anything. For me, the biggest mistake of the trip was not taking anything to drink.
However, the path doesn’t follow the ridge as it seems to. We descend and then climb again. It takes ages. The almost hour-long climb to the summit feels endless. I’m starving. The view of the entire island, which is almost a given by now, somewhat compensates. Far below us, at the end of the mountain road, lies the village of Haut Asco.
The dreaded snow on the descent turns out to be the best part. Apart from a few groups struggling with crampons, walking on the snow is comfortable even in hiking shoes. The soft surface saves the knees and doesn’t slip as much as the scree that follows. The crumbly rock on the steep slope is not pleasant. Fortunately, we are going down. It’s a better direction.
The first stream that crosses the path doesn’t even reach it. It disappears somewhere in the scree just before and reappears a few dozen meters later. The next descent is brutal for the knees almost all the way to Asco, the local ski resort. We pass several restaurants and arrive at the Refuge d'Ascu-Stagnu. People are even camping on the ski slope, and clothes are drying on the lift poles. There’s no space left for us in the forest, so we also set up a tent on the gravel slope. The hostel looks more like a prison.
Day 12: Haut Asco (Refuge d'Ascu-Stagnu) - Refuge Carozzu
Plenty of time...
We get up late in the morning and pack even more slowly. After yesterday, we chose a slower pace. We leave the camp last, heading straight to the local restaurant for coffee, where we sit for another hour. The mini-shop is better stocked than the camp’s, so we buy cheese and some fruit to take to the viewpoint at the saddle. The climb to the Bocca di Stagnu saddle (1980 m) starts off steeply. Although there are no chains, it’s one of the steepest climbs in our direction. The rock is solid, the markings are clearly visible, and the only thing that slows us down a bit is avoiding those descending the few harder spots. After an hour and a half, we are at the saddle. The view of yesterday’s Monte Cinto is magnificent. And then lots of other Montes and Puntas, as we’ve gotten used to.
The end is approaching. From the nearby Muvrella, I can see Calvi and the sea. From the saddle, it’s about twenty minutes of hopping over nice rocks to the summit. And the view is definitely worth it. I leave David at the saddle with the backpacks and picnic. I run down just for the coffee, which ends up spilling off.
Today, there’s no rush; we’re only heading to the next hut, Carozzu. We continue slightly downhill and to another saddle, Bocca di a Muvrella (1987 m). The rock arch tempts us to go through, but there’s an abyss behind it. The path leads just beside it. From here, it’s only downhill. And of course, steep. From above, we see Lac de la Muvrella, from which the Rousseau della Spasimata flows. We descend along the side of the beautiful canyon. Fortunately, it’s dry. The whole time, there’s no place to get water. At the first pool we pass, I manage to jump in and soak my entire shoe. Luckily, it dries quickly. A bit further, we get close enough to the river to climb down to the water. We scramble down a few rock steps to a luxurious pool. It would be a pitty just to walk around. The water has warmed a bit from its journey from the snow.
We cross the hanging bridge, Passerelle de la Spasimata. On the other side of the river, we climb slightly to the Carozzu hut. Across the valley, we admire incredible slabs of smooth rock. Our jaws drop even more at the heliport built on stilts protruding from the forest. There isn’t a flat piece of land anywhere. The hut’s terrace is in a similar style, and finding a spot for the tent takes a while. And we don’t yet know that there are squirrels here that chew holes in socks at night.
The shower queue splits into hot and cold. The latter goes significantly faster, and the soundtrack for a horror movie could be recorded here. In the evening, we celebrate (almost) crossing Corsica on the terrace. Tomorrow, we plan to connect two stages at once and reach the finish.
Day 13: Refuge Carozzu - Calenzana
A demanding finish
There are two stages left, each planned to take around five hours. After a fairly easy day yesterday, we decide to skip the last Refuge de l’Ortu di u Piobbu and go straight to Calenzana. It’s a climb up, then two descents. This shouldn’t be too challenging for us. We start with a climb to the saddle, through several saddles that we don’t even bother to count. The highest is at around 2000 meters, under Capu Ladroncellu. We later read that this was where a rescue operation took place at the end of May for two hikers lost in a snowstorm, which did not end well. Every year, the mountains take their victims. Some underestimate the terrain, equipment, or weather, others overestimate themselves, and some simply have bad luck. Up here, the wind is cold, but it’s sunny. The morning clouds have cleared, and we’re grateful for the pleasant weather we’ve had over the past two weeks. Thirteen sunny days, with just a few hours of rain and one short storm. It’s been unbelievably good. The mountains are even more beautiful with the remaining snow, there’s no shortage of water, and the slopes are colorful with flowers.
We begin a long descent. More and more stunning views of the sea, Calvi, and the valley we’re descending into open up. Around two in the afternoon, we pass by Refuge de l’Ortu di u Piobbu. Most hikers spend their first night here on the GR20. We pass many of them as we descend to Calenzana—some clean, fresh, and full of enthusiasm, and others, just a few hours into their hike, exhausted and asking how far it is to the refuge. The lower we go, the more interesting characters we meet. There’s a guy in underwear with branches instead of trekking poles, others with fishing chairs strapped to their backpacks, or a guy with a huge umbrella. Hanging pots, ladles, and bottles are standard. Since we haven’t seen such overloaded backpacks further in the mountains, we hope they’ll reconsider before needing help. We see the last of them just above the village with enormous backpacks. Then, we descend into Calenzana alone.
There’s no grand entrance, just a sign marking the start of the GR20, which we’ve just completed. We’ve made it! Over two hundred kilometers of rocky ridges and 16.5 kilometers of elevation gain. We deserve a big dinner in the village. Calenzana is small, so we easily find a restaurant named GR20. Where else, right?
After a hearty meal (I’m full, and David says he could have another burger), we head to the campground at the edge of the village. Most hikers start here, but we’re washing off the trail dust from the bare slopes. After the fires a few years ago, grass and colorful flowers are growing back, but the bare trunks will remind us for a long time that there used to be a forest here.
A bit of culture and travel mishaps
We’ve completed the GR20, the crossing of Corsica from south to north with several alpine variants and bonus ascents that were definitely worth it. Grande Randonnée was definitely not easy. There aren’t many places where you can just walk without watching your steps. The reward is endless views of mountains and the sea everywhere, and it’s never boring.
For the last time, we pitch our tent in a mulberry garden at the municipal campground. As a souvenir, we have the entire bottom of our ultralight tent covered with fallen fruit. A mix of soil and purple mulberries sticks to our soles. There’s still enough left on the trees for breakfast.
We hitch a ride to Calvi, where we spend the next two days relaxing. We take a stroll to the sea and explore the fortress. On Sunday morning, we board the train to Bastia. During weekends, it’s the only option. Corsican trains arrives on time, so we have time for another fortress in Bastia. Although our ferry is only an hour late, Italian trains have a surprise for us: a railway strike. Unfortunately, this delays us in Livorno, where we arrive just in time to see the train that’s not continuing. The next possible train is at 3am. We share a taxi to Pisa with other travellers, where we spend the remaining hours before our flight. Ending the trip in a city jungle is, at least for me, more exhausting than the days in the mountains.
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