WORDS AND PICTURES PAUL HARRISON
Arrivée149Autumn2020
Corsica is a magical place for those cyclists who love a climbing challenge. It also offers some heart-stopping descents where it’s wise to keep your wits about you – rather than gaze into the cavernous gorges just inches from the road. Regular Arrivée contributor Paul Harrison kept a cool head in his adopted home as early summer merged with the remnants of winter to offer some spectacular rides…
40
IT’S MID-APRIL and wall-to-wall sunshine, but it’s a nice cool start for the ascent from Lama to Pietralba and then over Santa Maria. My wife Janet and I are off on an adventure – it’s our intention to ride the Asco Gorges to Haut Asco, a mission impossible in the winter snow. A short burst on the busy N197, which can be scary at times, leads to a right turn on to the D47. This is quiet as it’s too early for the tourist season, but it’s late enough for the ice to be gone on the higher reaches. There’s a long, flat, straight stretch, then the road goes over a bridge, narrows, and starts to twist and climb.
Corsican climbs and scary chasms After 20 miles of riding we arrive in the village of Asco, go to the only café that’s open and sit outside with our coffees. Soon the café opposite opens and we suspect they’ve seen us and don’t want to lose any more trade to the competition. Two more customers arrive and there is much photographing of the old horse with a moustache standing in the road with his companion donkey. The donkey puts his head into a plant pot and starts munching. Luckily, it’s only the weeds he’s interested in. We discuss the lack of snow with the proprietor and wonder if there will be
enough to melt and feed the springs and rivers which Corsica relies upon for its water supply. He assures us that lack of drinking water is no cause for concern as they’ve got plenty of wine to drink. He goes on to say that in 1934 they had 2.2 metres of snow in the village. I don’t think he’s old enough to remember it. We continue climbing in the sunlight and it’s about as warm as a good summer’s day in England – just perfect. Occasionally passing in the shade of cliffs or under the trees, I am reminded of just how cold it was in the winter. The road goes over a bridge which, if it were in Britain, would be
