I was awoken in the morning by drops of rain on my tent. The rain had not really started yet, but off to the west it looked to be rather heavy. I went to Markus's tent to warn him that we were going to get a bit wet, then went back to pack up my gear. We stowed our packs under the eaves of the refuge just in time before the downpour. We also tried to stay dry under the narrow eaves (the small refuge bunk house was already packed). When the rain let up a bit we found that the back porch of the bunk house was dry and a bit more roomy. We got on the trail pretty early since the rain only lasted about 30 minutes and we had packed up in such a hurry.
Immediately after leaving the refuge, the trail heads straight down the steep slope into the valley. We soon passed the solo Brit hiker, who as always was one of the first to depart and was going at his own pace. The trail started to flatten out a bit near the vacant Bergeries de Gialgo, and we lost the trail trying to leave this cluster of stone buildings and livestock pens. We generally followed the valley and soon found the red and white blazes. Descending a bit farther past several cascading streams and an abandoned bergerie, we came to the longest, flattest stretch of our walk so far. This walk through the laricio pines of the valley forest brought us eventually to the Bergeries de Tolla where we stopped for a long rest, bought some of the fresh cheese, and watched the family attend to their chores. The weather had turned quite nice after the morning storm, encouraging some day hikers to walk up the valley, enjoy the scenery, and visit the bergerie (and take many pictures). Once on our way we soon crossed the Ruisseau de Manganellu and started heading uphill again. For a while the trail followed an old road. Narrowing to a footpath again, the trail weaved through a predominantly deciduous forest as it climbed up the valley next to the Ruisseau de Grottaccia. We arrived at the Bergeries de l'Onda at noon.
I would guess that about half of the GR20 hikers take the high (alternate) route from Refuge de Petra Piana either to the Refuge and Bergeries de l'Onda or to Vizzavona. This keeps the walk up in the mountains and bypasses the significant loss in altitude along the official low route. Had we known ahead of time we might have taken the high route ourselves, but I'm glad we stayed on the low path since it offered more variety.
We got a room in the Hotel Restaurant I Laricci, reserved a table for dinner, then washed off the trail grime. It was my daughter's birthday, so I called home to wish her Happy Birthday and tell my family we had finished our trip a day earlier than expected. Meanwhile, Markus bought us each a celebratory 2-liter mug of Pietra, which we managed to finish just before dinner. We didn't talk much during dinner we were so busy eating. I can't recall what was served, other than the green peas that I inhaled. Having no reason to get up early the next day, we walked over to the local pub, where much to our surprise sat Tintin and Snowy. They had doubled up the stages as well, walking the high route from Petra Piana. We made plans to take the train to Ajaccio the next day to see what the place was like, and to find an ATM that would accept my Visa card.
We got up pretty early along with the rest of the refuge (another benefit of sleeping in tents). This allowed us to take our time getting started, giving us a chance to take some pictures around the refuge. We also stopped for a while by a high field with some pozzi, although the light wasn't too good for pictures. There hadn't been any rain during the night, but the grey sky had returned. We climbed up toward the Breche de Capitellu on terrain that was more typical of Corsican hiking than what we had been on the day before. After a short stretch of gradual elevation gain among scrub, then a flatter bit following a stream bed through high bush, the trail became a boulder crawl, finally turning into a steeper climb up scree and snow to arrive at the highest point on the GR20.
Up in the col a small crowd had gathered to consider their next hundred or so paces. The trail went across a snowfield that sloped steeply to the left and then dropped straight down about 50 meters into the Lac du Capitellu. If the snow gave way or you lost your footing, there as really nothing stopping you from a fatal plummet into the lake. As much as I wanted to put off this challenge I decided I'd rather not wait as other people slowly made the traverse, so I went across as quickly as I dared, then watched as Markus did the same. We took a snack break on the rocky slope to calm the nerves and enjoy the spectacular views of the twin lakes of Capitellu and Melo, the mountain peaks surrounding them, and the Restonica valley below.
The trail across the ridge was one scramble after another. We'd go down steep rock gullies, then up rock slab. Along the way we passed a Brit, hiking solo, who we'd seen the previous few nights. We stopped and talked with him for a while about the hike, about the weather, and about his scarred knees, which he said he'd ruined by many years of skiing. We had noticed the previous days that he was always one of the first to leave the refuges in the morning, and usually one of the last to arrive. It's pretty impressive that he was doing this hike at all given it's difficulty and the state of his knees, but he knew his abilities and always made it to the next stage.
There were some good tent sites on the broad shoulder of rock where the refuge is located, so we pitched our tents and arranged for dinner at the guardian's hut. That left plenty of time to sit on the porch of the hut, where we talked with an older Dutch couple (they were the ones who used caribiners in the Cirque de la Solitude) who told us about their excursions on and near Mont Blanc. A while later Green Tent showed up, and we invited them to join our card game (they were both British). We hadn't seen them for three nights, and thought they had either left the trail or dropped back a stage. Actually, the night we were in the Hotel Castel di Vergio they had camped just outside of the PNRC in the Golo Valley. While we were at the Refuge de Manganu they had stayed near the Bergeries de Vaccaghia.
Hotel Castel di Vergio offered a wide range of supplies (at a rather high markup), and since Tintin and Snowy had showed up we had enough money to restock our lunches. We were getting a bit tired of the standard fare (especially the sausage and cheese part), but these along with our store of protein bars provide the best calorie and fat content for their weight. Another long hike was ahead of us, and the weather report called for some rain.
When my family came to Lac di Ninu the previous year we saw just a handful of wild horses, who were generally staying clear of the people. When Markus and I got there the mountain pasture was full of small horses from the nearby bergeries, as well as a few wandering cows. The rain stopped as we descended to the lake, and the sun made an effort to break through the clouds. We stayed in the area for a long time, watching the horses and taking pictures. There were a few groups of day hikers, but not as many as would be expected on a sunnier day.
The trail crossed a broad flat before climbing gradually toward the Refuge de Manganu, with long views back toward Paglia Orba and ahead to the Breche de Capitellu. The clouds had mostly cleared by the afternoon giving us a warm, dry walk for the last few miles. Most of the other hikers with tents had arrived at the refuge, so we couldn't find a decent tent site. Since the weather report showed a potential for rain we decided to experience a night inside the refuge. Even with the long hike and extended stops we had many hours of the afternoon left to relax on the refuge porch, have a few Pietras, and play rummy. We ate dinner at dusk, then most of our refuge-mates started going to bed (some had gone to sleep long before sunset). Perhaps everyone else was acclimated to the in-refuge environment, or maybe they tolerated it because they didn't want to carry a tent. But the small burden of a 2 lb. lightweight tent is more than compensated for by the peace and quiet that it provides.
After packing up our tents and eating a small breakfast of bread, jelly, and hot chocolate we headed out for the long day's hike. We passed horses that had brought supplies up to the bergerie the previous evening, then headed into the shade of pine trees as we descended the valley. Somehow, once the trail started climbing again, we got caught among a group of 6 or so hikers who were maintaining a very fast pace. We kept up for a mile or so, but Markus decided he had no interest in joining the "Pyrenees Racing Team", which became this group's nickname. I wanted to try to keep their pace, at least for a while, so I took a walking break, eating a protein bar when the terrain allowed it. In addition to the beautiful vistas — up toward Paglia Orba, across to i Cinque Frati, down the valley toward Calacuccia — what kept me going was the thought of the cool, juicy apple I had in my pack for lunch. I managed to stay with the group until they stopped for a rest where the trail crossed the crystal clear Foggiale stream. That was enough racing for one day, so I took some pictures while I waited for Markus.
So we took the official route across scree and through scrub towards the Refuge Ciuttulu di i Mori, then stopped for a long lunch at the refuge. We debated hiking to the summit of Paglia Orba, the second highest peak in Corsica and purportedly the best vista point on the island, but in the end decided just to hike up to where the Golo River starts, between Paglia Orba and Tafunatu. Some day hikers had climbed high up on Capu Tafunatu, threading the needle on some narrow dangerous path, and we watched as they made slow progress down.
Heading down off the ridge towards the Golo River the trail gets steep and suffers from massive erosion. This is perhaps the reason many hikers followed the alternate route down the opposite side of the valley. Once the trail met the river the going was much better, and there were many opportunities to stop for a rest at large rock pools. My family and I had visited this part of the valley on our trip the prior year, and it was nice to be in somewhat familiar surroundings. The following two days would also be in regions that we had visited on our previous trip.
Stage 4 is all about the Cirque de la Solitude. As we got ready to head out for the hike, we were greeted by a French woman — I think her name was Marie — who had been hiking solo. She had joined a group for dinner the previous night, and apparently their excitement at dinner was due to some news from the Cirque. Snow on the steep path had kept the Cirque closed up until the previous week. Two days prior someone had broken his hip in a fall and had to be extracted. She knew that we did not speak French, so had missed the discussion. Marie was considering bypassing the main route. She had walked the GR20 before, so she "had nothing to prove." Part of the guided group had already decided not to hike the Cirque, which seemed the right thing to do given their obvious difficulties negotiating the steep and narrow around Muvrella the previous day. A few of their group were going to try the Cirque.
The path going down was clear of snow, since it faces predominantly southward. Still, it took some care choosing safe footing, especially as the path turned to scree toward the bottom. Once we reached the lowest point in the Cirque we took a break for a snack. Also at the bottom were a group of British hikers walking south to north — they had been among the hikers who were told to reverse the route in order to miss bad weather in the north, and in order to increase their chances that the Cirque would be open when they reached it. We talked with them for a bit about what each of us could expect on the trail ahead. They told us that Hotel Castel de Vergio did not accept credit cards (and none of the refuges or bergeries do either); that Vizzavona had three buildings: a hotel, the gite d'etape, and the bar (where credit cards were OK); and that when we got to Vizzavona we should get "starfished", which was a new Britishism to us.
We took our time hiking down to the bergerie. Upon arrival we secured our best tent sites of the trip, grabbed the obligatory Pietra, and took in the beautiful surroundings. Just next to the main building the owner had set up a dozen identical blue tents, each with two thick mattresses. These were conveniently located, but I think our tent sites were better situated among the trees and boulders, with the Ruisseau de Crucetta flowing nearby. I decided to make some use of the satellite phone since I had carried it all that way, so I called home. The only news was that my grandmother had suffered her second stroke, and would not survive it. She'd had a long and full life, which is the best one can hope for. Although I was sad I wouldn't be able to see her again, her death was not unexpected.
The prior evening we were joined at the refuge by a group of ten or twelve hikers, traveling with a guide, his son, and their dog. As we discovered that morning, this group had started from the old (now alternative) beginning of the GR20 in the Forest of Bonifatu. The group had arrived a bit late in the evening, but the guide had reserved their place at the refuge in advance (which was why we couldn't join the main dinner).
Continuing on, we soon reached the first (and smallest) alpine lake on the GR20, the Lac de la Muvrella. This was just about everyone's spot for lunch, and there was plenty of space for each group to spread out, eat lunch, and enjoy the warm sun. We all watched as, one by one, each group finished their rest and started the short, steep climb up a gully filled with snow to the gap near the peak of Muvrella. When it was our turn we proceeded slowly, step by step in the rotting spring snow. We stopped in the narrow gap to take pictures, joined soon after by the young couple. Markus commented on how quickly she had ascended, and the young German made a comment like "yah, she's a real snowbunny". We explained to them how we had started to give our fellow hikers nicknames, and of course her nickname was now "Snowy". Although it took us a few more days to come up with it, we gave him the fitting nickname "Tintin".
The descent from Boccu a u Stagnu was even steeper than the descent the previous day, although it was shorter and we had Haut Asco (and Monte Cinto) in view the whole time. The last part of this stage was through a welcome stand of laricio pines, the only shade we'd had since the morning. I did a fair job of getting us a room with two beds (it only took two tries). We stashed our gear in the room, then went down to the Hotel porch to watch hikers arrive and to have a Pietra or two.
I slept well for the most part, but the last few hours before sunrise I spent huddled in my sleeping bag, my tent practically flattened by the wind that was roaring down into the valley. I had pitched my tent perpendicular to the direction of the wind. I rose with the sun, which was a bit delayed because it had to crest Monte Corona and the ridge behind us. As soon as the sun was up, the wind died down but it was still chilly. Markus was getting up too, so we packed our tents and went to the refuge for something warm to drink and a bite to eat. When Markus had looked out of his tent in the early morning, most tents were being tossed around by the wind. One exception was a Quechua tent that was apparently rock solid. The owners of this tent were therefore nicknamed "Good Tent", who as it turns out were my French "translator" and his wife.
Ten minutes on the trail and we'd lost the route among the poplar forest above the refuge ("Refuge d'Ortu di u Piobbu" means "refuge of the garden of the white poplars"). It just required a quick backtrack to find the proper path, and soon we were well above the refuge looking back at what we'd covered the previous day. The green tent was still there, quiet as before. The Mediterranean Sea was in view toward the West as we reached the local height of land, stopped for a snack and some pictures, then checked one last time on the green tent — still there, although just a small green dot at this distance.
The following section of the trail was completely exposed and very interesting. Lots of up and down through very rocky terrain, but not boulders or slab or scree. We stopped along the way for lunch, then continued on through this amazing landscape to the Bocca Carozzu. Looking down from this viewpoint onto the Forest of Bonifatu below gave a sharp contrast to the rocky scrags we'd just finished. But an even greater difference from the mid-day hike was the rather steep trail going down to the Refuge. We ended the day's hike as we'd begun it — off the trail in a forest of alder and birch, then backtracking to find the proper route.
Weather was not a problem for us that day. There were few clouds in the sky, barely a breeze, and the temperature was hot but bearable. We walked for about an hour, up to a nice vista point where we could just see Calenzana and the Mediterranean Sea beyond. After a quick snack we walked another hour or so, to a short section of the trail shaded by some tall pine trees. This first half of the first stage is steadily and unrelentingly uphill. While it's no small task, in some ways it is a gentle introduction to what's to come in the days that follow.
Having decided to pitch tents, we went in search of good sites. We probably got the last two (marginal) spots. Not surprising given our departure time, my delay in reserving a site, and the fact that we were sharing the refuge with a large south-north hiker contingent (in addition to our fellow north-south hikers).
Getting to the northern end of the GR20 in Calenzana is fairly straight-forward. There are daily flights from Nice to Calvi (also from Paris, Marsielle, etc.) and it's a short €20 taxi ride from the airport. Since Markus's flight wasn't arriving until after 6PM we planned to stay in a hotel for a night (near Calvi), then start walking the next morning.
My plan for training was simple: Walk as much as possible. I started out just walking with a full camelback, then gradually added more weight until my small day pack was full. Meanwhile I did some research for a new backpack and single person tent. Also, I had never used trekking poles before, but Markus made a good case for them. I got a pair of Black Diamond poles and added them to my training walks, to my surprise shortening by about 10% the time it took to complete my usual routes. Once my new pack arrived I started packing it with real gear — sleeping bag & pad, tent, first aid bag, and clothing (and 2 liters of water). Over time I added other items I'd be carrying, like the guide book, some maps, flashlight, small towel, camera, protein bars, and eventually a 5 lb bag of sugar (a proxy for the food I'd be carrying). By the end of April I was carrying about 25 lbs.
In addition to the Cicerone guide I wanted to have some good maps. The IGN Top 25 maps are very detailed, and beautiful to boot. In hindsight they were extraneous, but they helped me get my bearings before the trip and I'm glad I have them now just to look at.
A common thread among many of these hikes was the white and red blaze of the GR20. Our day in the Bonifatu was spent along the old first stage of the GR20, where we came within shouting distance of the Refuge de Carrozzu. We hiked in the Restonica Valley to the Lake of Melo and looked up the grey cliffs toward the Breche de Capitellu, the GR20's highest point. Hiking from the Niellu Valley we reached the Lake of Nino where we saw the Corsican Army training along the GR20. And lastly, we followed the red and white blazes up the Golo River to have lunch and take a quick dip in the cold cascades coming down from the shoulder of Paglia Orba.
With tickets booked, a friend to accompany me, and a basic outline of the trip I contacted Pascale, our guide from Vallecime, to get basic information about the refuges, weather, and food/water availability we could expect. Even in early 2006 there was very little information on the web about the GR20 (and even then mostly in French), so having an expert contact in Corsica was a critical addition to the Cicerone guide.