I wake up in the middle of the night that it's blowing heavily outside. Voices in the dark outside. People are apparently out to secure their tents better. I can hear a tent that has been taken by the wind flying by the other tents outside at high speed. My tent stands rock solid. I creep back into the sleeping bag, more worried about the cold than by the wind.
There is a lot of activity in the camp in the morning. The tents that have played dragons in the wind during the night are all gathered together down by one of the fences, all of the type that you can rent at the refuge. No one rented these this night anyway. The wind is quieter now in the morning hours, but it's still blowing quite a lot.
Up towards Bocca Muratello from Refuge de l'Onda.
Then my day is blown away, but not by the wind. But by my camera, which appears quite dead. I'm in a little bit of shock actually. Words can't describe what I feel, to me taking pictures while I'm out and walking is a way of process immediate memories. Whatever I do, I can't get the camera to life. It's quite clear that it's the battery that is the cause, I can only guess at the reason. I fear the worst. That the battery is broken, but I hope that it's only gone flat during the night (though it was almost fully charged yesterday evening).
Memorial of an alpinist that died trying to do the GR20 on skis in April for a couple of years ago. He disappeared in the gorge above Refuge de l'Onda, together with his dog.
I'm so frustrated when I leave the Bergeries de l'Onda that I start out at a very high pace; I need to walk my frustration out of my body. And doing so, walking all too fast pass the magnificent landscape that is being revealed on the ridge above the cabin. It's significantly more wind up on the ridge, giving me some few additional lifts on the way upwards. Below goes the valley down towards Bergeries de Tolla, which is hidden behind the trees far down below from here. Behind me some wanderers are going over 'le crêtes' towards Petra Piana.
Further up I pass a memorial for an alpinist that died here for a couple of years ago, when he tried to do the GR20 on skis during winter. Which is sad, but it's kind of sadder to hear that he took his dog with him in death. The wind lifts me the last meters and I come up to Bocca Muratello where the sun is awaiting me with its warm light.
View back towards Petra Piana and the mountains behind, the path over 'le crêtes' visible on the ridge.
My mood is a little better when I'm up at the pass and can look out over the valley that leads down to Vizzavona, and halfway on the GR20. The sun is also helping, and after all, it's not the end of the world. But, still, it's an abstract shadow in front of today's great weather. Instead, I use my cellular phone to take some pictures, but that camera isn't very good.
Monte d'Oro is now even mightier above me to the east of me and the other wanderers gathered here at the pass. And it is then I hear someone saying 'it was you' behind me, 'it was you that sat outside our tent last night and talked about the stars'. I turn around and find myself looking into the smiling face of a girl (from Netherland) that I've got to know a little bit earlier on the GR20. After yesterday's evening consisting of a little bit more beer and wine than planned, I ended up sitting outside with two others and a bottle of wine, and apparently talking a lot about the stars.
The ridge up towards Monte d'Oro, with the summit above. I let go of my original plan of going to the top. Kind of stupid, the view would have been great.
I start walking down towards the valley a little bit happier at heart, but I drop my original plan of going to the top of Monte d'Oro. Something in me wants to get down fast to check if it's just the battery that is flat. I receive a lot of compassion from other wanderers on the way down. The mountains on each side of me just look down at me with no emotion at all. The path is now going back and forth down in the valley. Trees are getting closer and closer before I can see leaves above in addition to the blue sky.
Looking back up at Bocca Muratello.
A river emerges between white and grey stones; I'm at the start of the Cascades des Anglais. It's quite tempting to take a bath, but I seems to a have caught a cold, however a small one. That I'm not far from Vizzavona is confirmed by the number of tourists beside the river. The English waterfalls is a common tourist attraction, it's not hard to see why.
The valley down towards Vizzavona, steep down towards the little village that separates the northern and southern parts of the GR20.
Mountainsides on all sides in the valley.
I stop for a beer and something to eat at the bar that lies at the bottom of the waterfalls. It's now just one hour left of walking before I will be at Vizzavona and the end of the northern part of the GR20. The last part takes me through the woods before my feet touches asphalt yet again.
And then I'm going into Vizzavona, I can see the sign for the GR20 north and south. The road leads down to the railway station. I pass by a large and majestic building that lies in ruins, with trees growing in the windows. There is a camping area for wanderers next to the railway station. But I haven't planned to sleep in a tent now, due to the cold I've caught. Instead I treat myself to a room at the Hôtel I Laricci. That is, the first thing I do is to check if I'm able to charge the camera battery.
Cascades des Anglais with Punta del Ceppo in the background.
The relief is indescribably when I see the charger status on the display of my camera turn to life. I Lariccia is a charming little hotel with squeaking floors, each floor has its own color. Blue in the first floor, red in the second floor, I receive a red key. First hot shower since Haut Asco.
Refreshed and with my mood back, I go to take a closer look at the dilapidated building. The ruins is the former Grand Hôtel de la Forêt, not much left of the splendor of old times. I go down to a bar next to the railway station where I meet up with some wanderers I've met on the way, the beer tastes real good. I get news that one of the Englishmen that I've met on the GR20 came down to Vizzavona with a nasty cough and has decided to go to Corte to see a doctor. His tent was flooded with water during the period of heavy rain earlier; apparently he's never quite recovered from that.
The ruins of the former Grand Hôtel de la Forêt. Nothing much that reminds about old glory now.
I almost feel like I'm a veteran from a typical American war movie where I'm sitting by the bar, sitting and watching as a party of new arrivals of walkers is getting off a bus. Know that many of them probably are thinking, 'and now what?'
The railway station in Vizzavona, clouds are covering the mountains above. On the way to Calvi I stepped out of the train here and took and look around. In my mind was the thought that I in a couple of days I would be coming down from the mountains and come here. Now I'm here.
I eat dinner at the hotel, which is included in the price. In the evening it starts to rain, quite a lot. I'm happy to sleep inside now in a good bed, and not outside in the tent. I've finished the northern part of the GR20, and quite satisfied with that. Tomorrow I'm having a rest day, my body needs that. Mysterious lights in the hillside above the hotel.
<- l'OndaVizzavona ->
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