One man, a tent and a bike: part 6

My plan was to be in Pisa around midday and meet up with a friend of mine from Aachen, Germany, who was escaping German weather for the warmth in southern Europe. I got hot quickly, and despite my lack of sleep, I was full of energy as I rode through Tuscany. I knocked back the 90 km quickly and I was at the Tower of Pisa around 1:00 pm. The last few times I was in Italy, I was always a little disappointed that I never got a chance to see the tower. I always thought it was probably just a tourist trap with a building that was not as impressive as everyone says. I was positively surprised to find that the tower leans quite a lot and it is very beautiful. Jana, my friend, arrived shortly thereafter and we sat down for a cappuccino and a chance to take in the tower more completely. We also took this time to check out Corsica, a French island that we planned on visiting.

The ferry that would take us to the island left from Livorno the next morning. Jana took the train there and I figured the 25 km wouldn’t be a problem for me and my trusty steed. Of course, it was everything but that, with obstacles like a closed bridge where I had to break through fences and ride my bike slowly through construction vehicles. However, the canal I rode along was wonderful and filled with wild ducks that would fly away as I approached only for me to come up behind them again. I reached the ferry later than expected, but still on time. Jana took care of the tickets, and shortly after, the boat left the dock and we relaxed on the sun filled deck. After 4 hours on the ferry, we arrived in Bastia, Corsica.

The city of Bastia was really quite beautiful, but we wanted to head to Calvi, a coastal town known for its hiking trails. I planned on riding there by bike, but we quickly realized that I couldn’t make it that far in a decent amount of time so we headed to the train station. Though my travel guide said taking a bike on the train in Corsica isn’t an issue, the man at the ticket counter told me otherwise. At that point, we decided to head to L’lle Rousse which was only 70 km away from Bastia, which was totally doable by bike. After leaving the city, I rode straight into a climb with a 15 % gradient which meant I had to push. I was sweating like never before, when a box truck stopped and the driver signalled to me that he would take me to the top of the hill. I almost fell to my knees with gratitude before loading my bike in the back and taking the 15 min ride to the top. He showed me the rest of the way on an old map and I was off again.

The landscape was astounding and I was happy to be hauling it downhill. When the descent was finished, I rode on into a long, but shallow climb that ended as the sun slowly set. The last bit of riding was on a country road where cars sometimes flew by dangerously close, though the Corsicans were generally very considerate drivers. Meanwhile, Jana had searched for a hotel on the internet to no avail and as I arrived at the train station she was just as exhausted as I was. Luckily, we quickly found a hotel that wasn’t in the internet and we settled down in our room for my customary Sunday pizza – a little habit I had started at the beginning of this trip. Overall, it was a great day, though very tiring.

After spending some time in L’lle Rousse, we decided to change things up once again and meet halfway on the way to Calvi at a beach for some time to relax. Jana took the train and I straddled my saddle and off we went. The beach was great and as we later arrived in Calvi, we noticed that it was the first of November which is the end of the traveling season, and many of the hotels and beach houses had closed. We ended up finding a hotel to stay in and as Jana headed off to go hiking, I took some time to relax in a café. I planned on writing, but I quickly gave up as writer’s block set in.

On our last night together we had pizza again and we said our goodbyes at the train station the following morning. Jana headed back to Italy and I rode back to L’lle Rousse where a ferry would take me to Marseille the next evening. My biggest dilemma, was trying to find out where to stay. Hotels and campsites were closed and wild camping in Corsica is strictly forbidden. I decided to give it a try anyway and set up my tent in an empty beach house. The veranda protected me from the rain that night and the house had a spigot, electrical outlet and a view of the ocean. I enjoyed a quite evening and made as little noise as possible because I wasn’t the only one in the small beach side village. I packed everything early and just missed a handy man who was heading to the neighbouring beach house. I arrived at the harbour rather quickly and sat down in a café full of locals feeling like the last tourist waiting to catch the ferry back to the mainland.