This Article first appeared in
AAC(UK) Newsletter 185
published Spring 2010
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A Corsican High
by Irmtrud Gerstel (OeAV Sektion Salzburg)
Do you know Corsica? This small piece of earth lying like a rare gem in the Mediterranean Sea is called Island of Beauty. I have the chance to climb its highest mountain – Monte Cinto 2706m. For me and 10 members of the AAC (UK) this day is the highlight of our holiday.
We have breakfast all together at 05.30. Each one still looks a bit tired — but also excited for what happens today. We have carefully observed the weather forecast several days before and chosen the best day for our project. While it is still dark a mini-bus takes us to our starting point. On serpentine roads we drive inland far from the camp. We pass tiny sleepy hamlets clinging to the steep slope of the mountains. It is curious that the driver has never driven these roads so he often asks for directions. After two hours of mad driving I am glad to get off the bus at the Refuge of Haut Asco.
Majestic mountains surround me and give me a feeling of respectful admiration. Which one of these rugged mountains is Monte Cinto? Today we are in our best condition, but we all seem nervous and tense — yet eager to start moving up.
At 08:30 we start walking. Passing the AV-hut we follow an easy path through a wood of high and mighty pines. A single huge polished rock with ‘Cinto’ and an arrow painted on it gives us the direction of our path.
The first scrambling passage splits us into two groups: some climb fast, some climb slower. Each one waits patiently until the next one gets the best position. The rock is gripping well. The route marks are red points which are hard to spot. Some of us look out for the next mark while the others have a little breather. After an hour we leave the shade. We are immersed in sparkling sunbeams, dazzling our eyes. What a wonderful feeling walking in the sun. Step by step we leave the green zone of low alder bushes. Now we only have stones and rocks around us. The pleasant silence is only interrupted by the ‘tak-tak’ of the sticks. We climb up passing short gullies. The leader searches for the best step and surest grip on the rock so that the next one can easily follow. Walking amongst these gorgeous people makes me feel very cosy and safe.
We separate into groups of 3 or 4 and again join together and have fantastic views of amazing walls of rocks all around us. The adventure gets more and more exiting as our path climbs steeply and we walk very carefully. Loose stones make it difficult to move quickly. Our path is bordered by tiny purple cyclamens. It is a joy to see coloured points amidst grey and rough stones. On difficult passages each one stops talking to focus on the next step. With the rising sun the route seems gentler. My feet want me to run up. I have so much power in me.
After walking for 3 hours we finally reach the highest point of a corrie. We take a big well deserved rest. Each person looks for a comfortable seat on one of the big granite rocks. All around us are ragged and pointed mountains, but the atmosphere is quite calm and silent except for gentle well known voices and drizzling stones from a slope. We notice immense cobwebs dancing close to our faces and tickling our noses. Behind us we can see the peak of Monte Cinto and a good view of our path. We imagine already standing at the top. Monte Cinto is calling to us.
We resume our climb across a large field of scree where we concentrate and take only small steps. Instead of the red marks cairns indicate our route from now on. These are not easy to spot in this huge sea of other stones. Leaving this rather dangerous trail behind, we reach a little tarn called ‘Lake of Silver’. Above I notice a small field of snow and cannot resist forming a snowball and throwing it against……? Our breather is interrupted as someone shouts “I can see Elba!” Far away in the north-east a mysterious shadow emerges from white haze. We recognize the vague contours as the top of an island. Everyone feels glad seeing this tiny little miracle. I catch it with my binoculars and I also keep it in my heart.
We cross another large field of scree. Nobody talks much just listening to the breathing of the man in front and looking at his boots to put yours into his footsteps. Passing by a threatening boulder we take some adventurous but delightful scrambling tracks, helping each other over some risky passages. How happy everyone looks as he masters his problem. As a reward for fearless climbers a splendid view awaits us. We have reached the main ridge of the mountain chain.
The midday sun warms our faces. We know that the summit of Monte Cinto is near and that one of the spikes in the west is our one. We think that in half an hour we can stand at the top. That’s what we think — but no idea! Some faster climbers walk ahead to find the marks. Two men and I scramble up a short gully to an unnamed peak. We hope to choose the right path, but notice other higher peaks next to us. This climbing is ineffective but amusing and easy for me. In the meantime some people walk further downwards and spot the marks again. We walk a long way along a slope underneath the summit feeling more desperate. We cannot win altitude for all our efforts.
At our next rest we feed ourselves and a very fussy and curious alpine chuff. Continuing climbing each person tries to find his own best way. Slowly but surely we approach the summit. Just a few steps up and at 15.00 we stand at the top of the highest mountain of Corsica. Overpowered by my emotions and full of thankfulness I touch the insignificant, simple wooden cross. What a breathtaking view you have from a mountain surrounded by sea. Light blue sky, clear air and a special kind of silence is all around. The panorama is singularly beautiful. On the horizon where sea and sky meet you can see a hazy bright line. In the distance we recognize the shadowy contours of the coast. Villages and towns are misty little white spots.
We quickly take group pictures and then we get ready for descending. We have a long way to go. The path should lead us down the south flank of the mountain chain. The marks are not easy to find, but fortunately three other mountaineers have done the same trail that we did. Without hesitating we follow hot on their heels. We lose precious time searching for cairns. Our group now splits into two parts. The faster and fearless ones rush forward to catch the path taken by the unknown climbers. The slower ones follow as fast as they can. Before scrambling down a steep dangerous gully the faster group waits for the stragglers. In the gully we see no definitive path so each one scrambles his own way. At the end of the gully we miss three persons. We can hear their voices, but they do not answer our calls. I scramble back up hunting for the missing people and meet them half way up the gully. But we have to get over far more difficult and hazardous places. Too many cairns make it hard to find the exact path. We take no time to notice the beautiful variety of the landscape. Some of the slower climbers miss their connection to the main group and get stuck in another gully. There is no way up or down. It seems impossible to get out. With the fearless help of a climber they cross the gully. No one else can assist in such a delicate situation. Further down a big ledge blocks our descent. With support and encouraging words everyone crosses and masters the terrible ledge.
We know it will be late before we get down to the valley and so we phone the bus driver with progress reports several times. Now the path is crags with lots of loose scree. We walk very fast but carefully. Our legs are tired but there is no time for a breather.
We just watch straight in front of us at a green wide ridge. The endless path will take us two more hours to get down. Passing a refuge made of stones we continue on our way. Walking across the ridge on a large path we watch a flock of goats. These animals reminded me of what people called me today: “She’s scrambling like a mountain goat!” I took it as a compliment. Along a twisting wide gravel road we nearly run downhill. In the west the sky gradually starts to change from light yellow to dark red. Suddenly the first stars appeared in a fading sky. High above the flat land the faint sickle of the waxing moon is perceived. It is 20.00 and it gets a little darker step by step. A really romantic moment.
Down in the villages sparkling lights appear, but we only have eyes for the road. The track is very rough with lots of furrows and gaps. Just before deep darkness completely surrounds us we can use the last short cut. Walking in the darkness makes me a bit scared because one step to the wrong side and you could hurt your- self badly. We are nearly at the limit of our power and patience and have no more desire for walking. Instead of a torch our path is lighted by the thin crescent of the moon. None of us thought we would need a torch on a bright day like today. We never expected such a long adventure. Then at the end of the road we spot lights moving towards us. We sup- pose it could be the lights of our bus. It was, but while turning the bus the driver drives into a ditch. Luckily a major accident can be avoided by some strong men. Nobody will believe our gladness as we sit down in our bus at the final point — a village named Lozzi.
On the way back home almost everyone falls asleep. In the camp we have a very warm welcome from all our friends. They feel happy to have us back safely. Some of them even cannot understand how to suffer this horrible trip. Only mountaineers understand the motivation for it. After a late night dinner especially prepared for us we dropped into our beds. I feel very tired but most of all very happy.
My sincere thanks to all the people in my group. We had fantastic and marvellous solidarity. Gladly I remember to share my feelings with people I am fond of so much. I think this long day made a dream come true for each one of us. My best summer day in Corsica was the 12 hours on Monte Cinto.
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Last updated: 20 February 2010