“Look at Me” Fleet

Corsica to Sardinia: A foot in both worlds

Porto Vecchio

Bastia is still quite a ways up the east coast of Corsica (Cape Corse) and we had a long way to go along a coastline promising little in the way of decent anchorages until its south-east corner.  Again, it seemed most were heading north, heralding the end of August and the end of peak holiday season.  Our mission was to get to Porto Vecchio and wait for good weather to visit Bonifacio.  The Bonifacio Straits are another unpredictable wind machine, so we crossed our fingers.  Porto Vecchio was a fabulous, well-protected anchorage but we could not linger.  Besides it was Saturday and every man & his dog was out in a boat.  A race was on too; a collection of vintage craft, at least 3 gaff-rigged and certainly some timber, floated in light morning airs around the islands off the coast.  Anchorages were full of “look at me” boats, others created high wakes called “rooster tails” whilst fast ribs, full of tanned young men in speedos, went looking for bow bunnies – it was beginning to look a lot like the Amalfi Coast all over again. 

Wild landscape at Corsica's southern end

Bonifacio from the Straits

We plodded on to Bonifacio, wondering what lay ahead.  It’s quite a spectacular setting but the harbour is beyond hectic.  Still, the Cap’n took us in for a discovery run and we even noted the possibility of a med moor in a little bay (Calanque de Catena) where Odysseus’s ships were destroyed by the wild and aggressive Laestrygonians.  Now, heroic challenges came from a different quarter!  A 50’ catamaran was determined to take up the whole channel and an immense hot water boat (maybe 100’) squeezed itself onto a dock meant for something much smaller.  As GS snapped a few quick photos of this very pretty town, the Cap’n dexterously sidestepped a flotilla of craft flooding into this narrow waterway - all set on finding a berth.  

We decided enough was enough and left the chaos behind for a safer, less popular anchorage over in Sardinia.  Well, you can’t always be right – the bay was alive with nasty brown jelly-fish (no swimming) and at night the wind turned directly into the bay (no sleep).  

Cave at the entrance to Bonifacio

And the start of visible fortifications

Into Bonifacio Harbour - it looks so serene in the photo!

Fortifications and "commercial dock" for ferries

It was easy then to get up very early and make for Stintino, our launchpad for the Balearics.  A couple of Frenchies were anchored off the marina entrance there so we decided to join them.  It took a few goes to get the anchor set (sand over rock) but in the end she held.  Being Sunday, everyone was returning to their berths at the marina, and we had quite a vantage point to watch the goings on.  Eventually, the Cap’n went ashore to scout out a weather report (we’d had no internet since Bastia).  A very helpful lady at the local yacht club checked for us - still clear, with a blow (Mistral) expected in two days.  Another early start was scheduled for the next morning….

Nearing our anchorage in Capo Testa, Sardinia.  So, it's back to Italy, again!

Ridin’ the Rails....Again

Ajaccio, Corsica: In search of Napoleon

Scenic Train at Bastia Station

Rugged inland scenery (taken through dirty train windows...sigh!)

One of the reasons we chose to stop at Bastia was to take the tiny tourist train across Corsica to Ajaccio.  This narrow gauge railway was built in 1897 though has since been modernised -  an appreciated upgrade when travelling through such mountainous gradients.  We decided on the 7.52am train; thankfully the café opposite was open and we tucked into a nice selection of warm croissants - mmmm!  The ride takes you through some perfectly wild scenery although it seems that many spots are threaded by walks (to suit all skill levels).  We, however, stayed on the train.

Inventive signage.
Now we knew we were hot on the trail!

Ajaccio is known as Napoléon’s birthplace and given that his name was widely used – streets, squares, memorials and buildings we guessed that’s what we would be doing.  We had 3 hours before (the return) train departed, so it was a matter of deciding on the most important sites.  Arriving at 11.52 however, is not such a good thing.  Even as we found our way to the pedestrianised Rue Fesch, shops were beginning to close for the long Mediterranean lunch. 

Hams & Salami made from chestnut eating porkers at the local Produce Market

The Marche de Producieurs de Pays (local market) was packing up too but at least we were able to see some fresh local produce, the hams particularly splendid.  I think it has something to do with wild boar surviving in ancient chestnut groves.  (Our language skills are rather poor, particularly having just arrived from Italy, so conversation was limited!)  We’d unfortunately just had brunch too, a less than memorable experience, so sampling pies, cakes, quiches and other tasty morsels was sadly out!

Yes, that's a goat
getting a snooze in too!

Beach beside the Fort
was popular

From the markets we made a dash for the Tourist Office, hoping to find a map and some inspiration.  The recommended city walk (they were clearly used to the train day trippers) was highlighted so we bumbled around to find the Maison Bonaparte which did not open until after 1.30pm.  So it was off to see the old fort (with resident goats and donkeys & not open to the public) and a trek to the Cathedral, said to have paintings by Delacroix and Tintoretto.  Yep, closed too!  

Cathedral - also closed in Ajaccio.  Oh dear, we forgot about Med long lunches!

L'Aiglon in Place Letizia

And another rather attractive sign

On our way back to Maison Bonaparte, we passed Place Letizia where Napoléon took the opportunity to demolish houses for a small square to feature the Georgian house of his birth.  A statue of his son, L’ Aiglon (The Eaglet) stands in this green but rather unkempt area.  (We wondered vaguely how our kids would have liked being called after birds - you know - The Pelican, The Kookaburra or worse, The Emu. I digress...)  The “House” though is well patronised and contains items of interest, yet we felt it lacked a certain panache that perhaps was due to one of history’s most successful military strategists.

Maison Bonaparte Interior - a front sitting room

and Napoléon himself 

There was little time left to see the Musee Fesch.  Cardinal Fesch was Napoléon’s uncle.  He, and  brother Joseph, were the ones enabling Napoléon to purchase the entire house for his family.  In 1799, Napoleon stopped off on his way home from Egypt for a very brief visit to see the house, but was never to return.  The grand Musee (or Palais) Fesch is said to contain France’s most important collection of Italian paintings outside the Louvre.  The train left in 30 mins and we knew it was going to be a struggle to get seats for the long trip back, so instead of the Musee, we purposefully strode down to the station.

Luckily, the Cap’n used his skills (learned in India?) to push ahead and found us seats on this two carriage train - it was too long a journey to stand for 4 hours.  The trip back was just as enjoyable though, the scenery quite splendid with wild empty mountains, thick pine forests and tiny, remote villages promising “very quiet holidays”.  The train stopped at 40, mostly rural, villages along this route - it makes for a very long day! 

Remote village along the rail line

& another very quiet station too.

As a post script, it is worth noting that Dorothy Carrington, an eminent author, also lived in Ajaccio.  She used her time to investigate history and ethnography of this once wild and isolated island (I’m guessing well before any tourist boom) documenting her findings into compelling travel books.  I was lucky to lay my hands on a copy of “The Dream Hunters of Corsica” a 1999 published study of occult practices peculiar to the island that date back, certainly well before Christian times.  Her contribution to recording a practice so easily lost is exceptional.  She also wrote about Napoléon; “Napoléon and his Parents on the Threshold of History” if you’re keen to follow up on his history.  For those interested in Art facts, Dorothy Carrington was married for a time (1942-1966) to painter, Sir Francis Rose.

No Sleigh Ride

Corsica, France

We did an early morning run through the narrow passage at Porto Venere

Then waved farewell to Italy & the lovely little church on the rock

Leaving Le Grazie, we stepped out into a bit of a swell (Mistral generated) which we thought we had a handle on until it came to us that we were skidding and skipping to a NW swell meeting a SE swell.  Interesting & very strange!  Our voyage was cheered along by a lone dolphin, quite old and large, who popped by briefly.  

So, continuing to dance our way across to Corsica, we finally came to rest at Macinaggio, where we hoped the anchorage would give us refuge for the night.  The anchor was hardly wet before a rib, with 6 men-in-black (never too many, GS says!) requested permission to board.  We could hardly say no, it was after all the French coast guard and we were the only non-EU boat in the bay.  The last time we had met them was in St Barts (Caribbean) when they couldn’t wait to search Boy Wonder’s cabin…hee hee hee!  Anyway, here in Corsica, we passed muster, had a nice chat and encouraged them to apply for a job in Guadeloupe.  Another day, another dance!

These were the colours of first light that greeted us

Followed by stunning views as we motored down Corsica's east coast

Next morning we left early; even so, we were last to leave the anchorage.  A nasty swell had kicked in overnight and even the Cap’n was pleased to leave.  Sad really, as the water was so clear and the cape so wild, it reminded us of our time in the Caribbean.  Most used the wind to head north (perhaps to France) but not us; we had plans to stay at a marina in Bastia.  By now, we’ve discovered that calling ahead for a berth in peak season means there will always be a “no vacancy”, so now we boldly enter, tie up to a “reception” dock, visit the office, then smile and hope for the best.  It's worked well for us, so far!

Vieux Port, Bastia

We enjoyed our stay at Port de Toga.  Aside from the vast supermarket opposite with rows and rows of wine, we found a Thai food takeaway and even a roast chicken pop-up shop - of all things.  We skipped sushi at €35 per tray but relished the opportunity to tuck into foods we'd not had for years.  The Cap’n took the time for a sexy French haircut then we visited the old downtown precinct before having lunch at Vieux Port – loads of mussels in creamy onion sauce as only the French can do.  We also learned that Bruce is a “bateau pneumatique” (said: bat tow new mat eek!) and GS scared the locals when she inadvertently used the men’s showers at the marina.  Such girls!  Since when have the French been so modest!   

Ahhh!  We began to feel almost human.....

This large church was closed but had an interesting
structure (unfortunately not enhanced by some most
unattractive modern additions)

It also came with interesting graffiti...

with humour as only the French could have