Corsica!

The campsite at Porto Pollo occupies an island connected to the mainland by a small sand bar and seems to be fairly popular with windsurfers. The campsite obviously used to sprawl across the whole island but is now limited to the southern end with the northern part left to return to nature. It’s a nice setting but rather scruffy as well. After cold porridge and packing the tent we took a walk around the island, spotting wild leeks, lizards and a long brown snake. The rocks by the sea have been carved into crazy shapes by the sea and look like Henry Moor (unsure of spelling) sculptures.

Just as we arrived back at our pitch (where we had left the bikes) the campsite called on Sally’s mobile phone to see where we were. Obviously worried we might have done a runner!

I had some work to do and the wifi at the bar was quite good, so we had a coffee and some fresh orange juice before heading off up the hill (overtaking much younger people riding unladen bikes) to the main road to Santa Teresa Gallura and the ferry to Corsica. Fortunately it wasn’t as busy as we had feared and most drivers were considerate, though the lorry that gave a friendly warning toot did make us both jump. Stopped off along route for lunch shopping and arrived at the port around 1pm. Two singles to Bonifacio cost a hefty €53.10.

It was very hot at the port with almost no shade but we set up lunch camp between the ticket office and cafe. We were soon joined more cycle tourists - a German couple and 2 chaps from Cagliari and the campsite was complete (picture to follow when wifi found again).

The ferry ride to Corsica was probably less than an hour but did provide an opportunity for some battery recharging for Sally and laptop recharging for me. My dynamo hub has been doing a great job keeping my phone and garmin running. Bonifacio is very impressive from the sea - houses and castle walls punched at the top of very high white cliffs and a great view from the deck of the ferry, though it was extremely windy and the salt spray covered everything.

Off the boat and no passport control or customs, just straight onto the quayside and up the steep, steep hill to the old town. Tourist hell hole but very beautiful and probably not best done on the bike due to the small alleys full of people and the many steps, so after getting a flavour of the place we left on the road to Porto Vecchio to find our campsite a few miles out of town. Thunder focussed the legs on pedalling hard and continued whilst we put the tent up, however the expected storm never arrived and a pleasant evening was had in the bar and restaurant.

Quite a relief to be at French campsites, with there order and attention to detail. Quite a contrast to the haphazard style of the Sardinian campsites.