Well, if yesterday's hill was big, today's was going to be worse, there are 2 of the buggers, each around 1300m and dropping down in between, and a steeper gradient than yesterday. And just to make it more fun, it started raining when we left Corte. Little did we know how much unfun it was going to be.
Ever an optimist, I opted for no rain gear. First mistake of the day.
The road climbed over the Col de Bellagranajo (723m), then down passing a high railway bridge built by Mt Eiffel of Tower fame, and up to Vivario where the narrow route caused a traffic passing/incident/jam. We had a minor 'failing to start' falling out, so we got off and walked to find a traditional cafe for coffee. This time it was too early to turn into the usual lunch. We were wet and cold, and starting to feel miserable and it wasn't even the start of the big climb.
It rained heavily as we climbed up to Col de Sorba (1311m). It was grim and unrelenting. The sign was defaced by the Corsican nationalist who had painted out the french, this was common when we were in the inland region.
Then down to find the restaurant at Ghisoni where, as usual we found the peleton just leaving, they looked as cold and as fed up as us, with Paul not able to stop shivering, I was quite concerned about him. We weren't allowed to sit in the restaurant proper as we were soaking, so had plastic chairs in the covered pavement area. We kept our goretex on as any evaporation would have cooled us down! The serving lady was very welcoming though, and after a bowl of hearty corsican vegetable shop we started to feel a bit warmer, but still not warm enough.
But we couldn't put it off much longer, it was getting late. Final big hill to go. and what a b'''gg''r, in a forest, few views, dank rain and mist, lots of switchbacks. It was something out of Mordor. The Stoker piped up at one point "why did we pay money to do this when we could be on a beach?". A good question to which I didn't have an answer except silence. And not even a col signpost at the top! What was nice was that Kevin and the van kept close by and we knew they were available if he had a problem - though if the tandem had fitted in the van we would have been tempted to have asked for a lift.
So no hanging around, a wiz down to the one horse town of Zicarvo, and hang out washing on hotel line. Pre-dinner beers and pastis, and a great local meal where the stern landlady would only give us what she wanted, including her local goat's cheese scooped out of a kilner jar, made us feel better.
Its amazing how you forget the horrible things in life. Isn't the mind wonderful in doing this otherwise it would be too depressing to cycle on tomorrow..
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