Corsican Beginnings

Wild, Rugged Corsican Forest

Our Mountain Road

The Beauty of Corsica

Wild Boar Trophy

Wild Boar Gallery

When I asked Lorraine why we were headed to Corsica, I didn't really get much of an answer beyond, “Because it was sort of on the way.”, but we have come to appreciate the stunning natural panoramas that we have encountered on our drives through the Corsican mountains.

We have described many beautiful countries in our travels and of course, cities like Venice, Rome, San Gimignano, Lucca and Paris could each claim the mantle for top honours, but Corsica has surprised us with a beauty that is rugged and profound.

It seems as though each tree is determined to show its individuality, to show its profile and stand out from the splashes of colour that surrounds it. The mountains thrust out of the ground and rise aggressively out of the forests. Each mountain wears a mantle of greens, yellows, ochres, and reds to complement their sheer stone cliffs. Every once in a while the mountains host a little village, with its grey houses, orange tile roofs and ancient church spires. The scenery compels you to look at it and drink in its beauty.

It did not begin that way. As our ferry docked in Bastia in the 36 degree heat, we went down to drive the car off as they lowered the ramps and other cars moved off. Entering the garage area, where the hundreds of cars were stowed awaiting to exit, we were met with a wall of heat and humidity that had the car thermometer showing 45 degrees Celcius. (That's 106 degrees in US$). We sat in the car for 20 minutes, waiting for God knows what, in danger of drowning as the sweat ran off us and began to pool on the floor of the car. Then, once we were out of the car, we had to endure Bastia, which has to be the armpit of Corsica, with bumper to bumper traffic, and 100 kmh multi-lane roads sudden merging into one stand-still road (still supposedly at 100 kph??)

Only once we turned off the road towards Tallasanee did we begin to really appreciate the Corsica countryside. Ruggedly spectacular.

On the way up the tiny country lane, we noticed what we thought we black sheepskins on the fence posts beside the road. We found out later that these were the pelts of wild boars. Hunting season had just opened and hunters would skin the boars they shot and leave them as trophies on their fences. Much of Corsican cuisine features wild boar – and it is delicious!

Our first night we ate with our hosts, Brain and Patrick, a charming couple who run our BandB Maison Borghetti. The fare was light and delicious.

This little village has only one other place to eat – at the “Club” - where we are now proud members. We had only just sat down, when with a boom, all the lights went out. I mean ALL the lights went out. Remember, we were on a mountaintop looking down over villages all the way to the cities ringing the Tyrrhenian coast. Not a twinkle. Turns out there was a major fire and explosion in the main electric plant and thousands of people were in the dark. It lasted over an hour. The “Club” had no candles, let alone backup power, so we spent the next 75 minutes or so getting to know our neighbours at the next table, who graciously offered to walk us home as they had flashlights in their car.

When the power finally resumed, my meal arrived. True Corse (Corsican) fare indeed! The Hungry Heifer would have been put to shame. The meat covered the dinner plate to a height of about 4 inches. On the bottom was a huge cutlet of pork, covered with a steak red and bleeding inside, covered with... wait for it..., a side of bacon. Not strips of bacon, not a few rashers, a whole side of bacon.

Needless to say, I couldn't even put a respectable dent in it.

Tomorrow – guitar, song, and beautiful music.