T1me to Ride

For the second evening in succession I watched the sun set on the mountains. This time I was at 1500m and the mountains even higher.  The buffet was beautiful and I ate well. I was surrounded by hikers on the GR 20 trek (I think I was the only cyclist) but almost everyone - including me - was hobbling rather than walking.  I finished dinner and headed back to my tent; by 8:30 I think I was fast asleep. The temperature fell overnight but my sleeping bag was up to the task.getting up to answer a call of nature in the middle of the night I was rewarded with an amazing night sky. I got my night sky phone app out and had a quick game of “spot the constellation”. I win.  Breakfast was a straightforward affair, buffet style, so I opted for my usual. This time however I decadently added a yoghurt to the mix.  My cycling kit was a less straightforward affair. If anything the overnight dew had made them wetter than they were before I hung them out to dry. It was going to be a cold 35km downhill

Today is a big day. And once again I’ll be chasing clocks. Dinner - and indeed my campsite - tonight is aituated at the top of the highest mountain pass on Corsica, at 1500m altitude.  It’s also 135km away from Calvi.  I’ve booked dinner, but - guess what - they close at 7pm. If I miss it, it will mean a 30km descent in the dark / dusk on unknown roads. I don’t fancy that.  And so I set an early alarm, ready for breakfast at 7:30 and departure at 8:30. I think that’ll do it.  But first a note about last night. After my beer by the sea I strolled along the boardwalk to Calvi Town, primarily to get some cash (seemingly no-one takes cards on Corsica..) but also to find a restaurant.  I paused in the marina to phone home then set about my task.  Breakfast was reasonably straightforward once I’d managed to convince my hostess that yes I really could eat 2 croissants, 2 pain au chocolat and a baguette. By this time (7:30), the sun was up and the sky a lovely light blue. It was going to be an

 How quickly we forget: breakfast arrangements in France require a PhD in guesswork. This morning’s particular gem was that I should have ordered breakfast last night. Oh, and we only take cash.  Some negotiation later I managed to procure a breakfast fit for kings. Gratefully, I left the sanctuary of my beachside campsite and carefully navigated the track back up to the coastal road. Today was a 125km day with the best part of 2,000m climbing. It was 9am and already hot. The magnificent coastline views had now disappeared as I headed inland skirting with Le Nebbio region for a while before making a steady descent to the town of St Florent. St Florent wasn't designed for the likes of me, that is to say everything about it shouts expensive, from the huge yachts in the marina to the numerous michelin star restaurants, I ploughed on and beat a hasty retreat east towards the Desert des Agriates, once an area of vital importance in terms of livestock and olive plantations but now nothin